A tool I remembered.

Odd, you know. The way things get stuck in your head. I thought of this tool and nothing would make me stop.

You slide your hand down there to the hole and there it is.

There’s nothing easy about a certain kind of car in 1960.

You needed a particular kind of wrench to open the bonnet.

Which got you a look at this.

Four gleaming cylinders.

And then this:

Hood up.

Tiny really, but so many incarnations. There was top up.

It had side curtains, like a Jeep. You put them on, and scratched windows slid up.

With great effort and about 160 snaps, you could put the top down.

Put the side curtains in the barn and the top in the trunk, Leaving no room for luggage.

And the tonneau version. Dad in the car with a barely open cockpit for himself.

He looked kind of F1 in that mode.

In the winter he got a hardtop. Also cool.

You think we did all of this for a two seater? no way.

We also had a back seat. Leather. My sister and I could almost fit in it.

Capacious.

My parents had nice seats too. Also leather. We always went first class.

They could stretch their legs out. Adults need to do that.

And we all got to look at the road through the windscreen with the wind blasting our faces and the engine thrumming in our ears. We didn’t need the radio we didn’t have.

Wouldn’t trade any of it for all the child carseats in the world.

P.S. Oh. The tool up top. The bonnet key. Necessary for getting under the hood, er, bonnet. Like so.

The only way you can get in there to wash and polish the engine.