Author: Charlotte Vowden
Photographs: Charlotte Vowden
For classic car adventurer Charlotte Vowden road tripping with her dad has been a journey of discovery…
Dad can’t function first thing without a cuppa
It’s the oil to his cogs in the morning. He doesn’t just like to drink it, he needs to drink it in order to sharpen up and think straight after a good, or bad, night’s sleep. It also makes him less of a grump. I’m exactly the same, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, except coffee is my cup of tea. Which is why we never travel anywhere without a stash.
Telling me how to drive doesn’t mean dad thinks I’m a bad driver
But oh how he loves to impart his wisdom. It’s taken years of sitting side by side in my 1960 MGA, including a few fallings out, for me to understand that he’s not criticising my ability, he’s trying to improve it. He wants me to be the best that I can be. Delivery though is about tone and timing, which can be tricky because patience and tact aren’t virtues with which he’s been blessed, and I take everything to heart. I do value his guidance though, because without it I’d never have tackled some of the UK’s toughest roads, including Hardknott Pass. With gradients of up to 33%, steep switchbacks and unguarded drops, “if I didn’t believe in you, you wouldn’t be doing it,” dad said to calm my nerves at the bottom of the track. You can see how the challenge unfolded, here.
It’s important to look after each other, as well as the car
In the past we’ve prioritised the MGAs health over our own and have an acute awareness of how happily and effectively she’s operating; both mechanical expertise and intuition playing a part. Over the years though, as our expeditions have become more ambitious, and as a result more physically demanding, we’ve come to realise that our wellbeing is imperative too. Illness and accidents are inevitable, but prevention is better than cure. From enduring a heatwave that saw the MGAs cabin temperature soar to 49°C, to embarking on a 1500-mile excursion when I was five months pregnant, each trip has its own unique set of circumstances to manage. Eating well, staying hydrated and packing a comprehensive first-aid kit are base-level musts, particularly in locations where medical facilities are sparse.
A classic car is no place for heroics
Neither of us drive with an ego, we never have and never will, but until we started doing challenges in the MGA – such as completing a non-stop 2,000-mile drive for charity in less than 48 hours – we’d never felt the need to formalise any specific rules. For example, I’m sure there are many of us who’ve got behind the wheel feeling stressed, tired or following a blazing row, but being emotional or fatigued means mistakes are more likely to be made. Take stock: don’t set off, or find a safe place to stop. The destination will still be there tomorrow. When dad and I are long-hauling it in the MGA, we we carry thermal overalls to kip in. Needing to sleep isn’t an admission of defeat, if only he didn’t snore like a bear.
Everyone else on the road is an idiot
Who are the worst drivers? In the blue corner: we have the elderly. In the red corner: we have the young. But, when you drive a classic car everyone gives cause for concern. I find the lack of common sense among drivers of contemporary cars baffling – of course a 65-year-old car is going to take a bit longer to speed up and slow down – and that’s why we drive like we’re about to be ambushed. “Trust no one,” I’d recommend taking heed of dad’s advice.
It’s important to have a plan…
…but the best moments are often borne out of spontaneity. Adventuring in a classic car involves hard work and preparation, but it’s liberating to make decisions without thinking too much. As two relatively uptight and hard-working people we’ve discovered the joy of letting go and saying yes to invitations and opportunities that manifest along the road. Less mulling over our options, means less hype and more room for magic.
I’m not a spoilt brat, but…
Overlanding across Europe with dad has highlighted the fact that I’m guilty of being a bit blasé when it comes to the simple pleasures of exploring pastures new. As a single parent and seven-day-a-week grafter, for him, taking time out to travel was a luxury he hasn’t been able to afford until now. Making up for lost time together, I’ve been enlightened because I get to see the world through his eyes. Desperate to soak up every detail, he’s so awake and so aware. He jots down his observations in a notebook and on occasion jots down his musings in my journal. Treasured entries containing particulars that I’ve overlooked and missed.
It’s always the expensive gadgets that get left behind
Epic landscapes deserve to be photographed, especially when they’re framing a super sexy chariot red, chrome-edged classic like mine. Apologies for the not so humble brag. To do so, I use multiple devices, including a camera, a GoPro and a phone, and have, on occasion, left one of them behind. It was on a remote forested road in Sweden that thanks to my forgetfulness my husband’s expensive camera was flung from the MGAs leather roof. I only realised my faux pas when I saw it in bits on the tarmac via the rear view. A discontinued model, the chance of a successful fix was slim, but dad was up for the detour to seek first aid.
The only camera shop in that part of the world was two hundred miles and one border crossing away, but our perseverance paid off – they had the lens I’d broken in stock. Parting ways with the ex-display part for £50 quid, it was a miracle that was very reasonably priced, when you don’t factor in how much the diversion cost us in fuel.
We work better together when we’re working separately…
Teamwork is all about delegation and taking responsibility. With different skillsets – dad is principal mechanic and I’m in charge of logistics – we don’t compete to be chief. Trusting each other’s judgement is an important element of harmonious road tripping too.
I’m turning into my dad…
The signs have been there for a while, but road tripping with him for up to 20 days at a time has highlighted the inevitable – we share many habits and traits. Apparently, the shift to embracing this hits around the age of 43, so at 37 I’m ahead of the curve, but if I can ‘grow up’ to be half as cool as he is, then I’m glad to be putting in the miles.
What lessons have you learnt on the road? Share them by emailing hdc@hagerty.co.uk!