CHOOSE two letters from the alphabet, put them in the right order, and you unlock chapters of life. “FX”, “FC”, “XL” or “XP” mean more than just a car.
They can trigger treasured memories. Often these are of first faltering youthful steps exploring two exciting but dangerous realities – motoring and human relationships. Equally often, therefore, they are hilarious.
The anniversary of the day in May 1953 when Holden produced its 100,000th vehicle at Fishermen’s Bend prompted Phil to call Nightline. His story is brought by the letters “FX”.
Aged about 19, he was deep into the restoration of his black beauty, so the seats had been removed. It was Saturday night, however, and Phil’s mate wanted to “go for a spin”.
Before continuing let me stress that I have an abiding commitment to road safety and do all I can on my program to cut the awful road toll. Remember this story happened in the age before seat belts and modern, high-powered engines.
Mum had a pair of “poofs” – pink fluffy stools with iron legs. They were smuggled out to the car and the intrepid pair set (carefully) off. As they were waiting at a red light a car pulled up alongside. The motor revved an obvious challenge. Good intentions evaporated as the light turned green.
The FX lurched forward. Phil’s hapless passenger executed a neat backward somersault into the rear of the vehicle. As his friends legs passed through his field of vision, Phil himself was also shooting backwards, held upright only by his grip on the steering wheel.
Phil’s backward momentum took his legs off the pedals. Mercifully the only damage was to the likely lads’ pride. Mind you, there was the small matter of explaining to Mum why the legs on her “poofs” were nearly horizontal.