That was when I passed my driving test and started to drive on my own, in a secondhand car manufactured in late 1962 that my parents had bought for me.

Before becoming a driver, it was important to know a few things about cars. You started them using a choke lever inside, usually on the dashboard, before turning the key. This was attached to a cable that kept the airflow to the carburettor restricted, allowing a richer fuel mixture to make the engine start. Once the engine was running, you moved the lever back in halfway, and set off. Then you had to remember to fully close that lever as soon as the engine was warm enough, or you would flood it with too much fuel and it would stop dead.

You were expected to know how to change a tyre in the event of a puncture. How and where to place the jack to lift the side of the car once you had loosened the wheel nuts. The alternative was to pay a hefty annual fee to a breakdown serice to come out and change the wheel for you, or worse still have the car recovered by a local garage at high cost.

Electrics in old cars were not as reliable as they are now. Bulbs blew frequently, as did the fuses on the panel inside the car. So you carried spare bulbs and fuses, and a few basic tools like screwdivers and spanners, changing those bulbs and fuses yourself. And if you ever travelled in country areas that were unlit, a torch was essential to see what you were doing in the event of a breakdown. Mobile phones didn’t exist, so it was wise to know the location of local phone boxes so you could ring a relative or friend to come and help you if you were unable to fix what was wrong.

Many of us learned how to replace a fanbelt, as they frequently wore down and snapped, and to carry a spare in the car somewhere. If the starter motor made an ominous ‘clicking’ sound as you turned the ignition key, you got out, lifted the bonnet, and hit the thing hard, hoping to unjam the copper and carbon brushes inside. So we all kept a hammer in the car as a matter of course.

In the main, car batteries were smaller and less powerful than they are now. In cold weather with headlights on and the heater running they would soon lose power, and have to be charged. That involved removing them from the car, taking them inside the house, and attaching them to a home charger known as a ‘trickle-charger’. You had to be careful when topping up the battery cells with distilled water, so as not to let any battery acid leak out, and to turn off the charger at the right time, to avoid the dreaded ‘bubbling over’.

In harsh winters, it was advisable to completely cover the windscreen and back window with cardboard or similar, as the screen blowers on car heaters were not very powerful, and you would be scraping ice for ages before you had a chance of moving off and being able to see through the windscreen. I was also taught to cover the whole engine with a blanket at night during winter, so the various parts would stay warmer than the outside temperatures, and you would be able to start the car normally the next morning.

Fast-forward to 2026. Even my eight-year old fairly basic SUV has fuel injection, so no choke to worry about, or carburettor to get blocked with dirt. The battery is a ‘sealed unit’, and only replaced when it dies completely.

Fanbelts have been replaced by electric fans, bulbs tend not to blow until the car is exceptionally old, and I don’t even know where the fuse panel is. The fan blower clears the screen better than they used to, and the rear window has a built in heater.

I still have a jack and wheel brace, as well as a spare wheel under the boot floor. But my premium bank account gives me membership of a motoring organisation that will come out and change the wheel for me, should I get a puncture. And at my age, I would call them.

They will also carry out simple repairs, and sell me (and fit) a new battery if that is the problem. If all else fails, they will recover my car to a local dealer, where I can then phone for a taxi home. I no longer carry any tools in the car, as the whole engine bay is covered by a large panel, and there is no chance of me accessing anything that might need repair. My only option is to get it into a dealership where they will plug in the ‘diagnostic computer’ before they fix whatever is wrong.

In 1969, I used to grin like an idiot whenever the car started first time, with no fuss.

Yesterday, I climbed into the car and turned the key, and it didn’t even cross my mind that the car would not start.