The Open Road - Classic Car Hire - Axa Classic 1999 in a Triumph TR4A

It's no place to be within a mile of taking the wheel of a Triumph TR4A for the first time. Especially not in the rush hour, as hungry drivers, the scent of tea-time in their nostrils, hurtle homeward cushioned by all mod motoring cons like servos, ABS, and disc brakes all round.

Such was my baptism of fire, peering out over a TR4A bonnet reminiscent of a relief map of Madonna; like an automotive virgin, driving for the very first time, writes Stuart Pearcey.

Still, if you're not the proud possessor of a classic car, but want to take part in the AXA Classic, then needs must. I'd arranged to hire a Frogeye Sprite from Elaine and Tony Merrygold of The Open Road, who were happy for me to do the event in it. They would eventually arrive four cars in front of us at the end, having driven their G-plate B roadster from Edinburgh.

Trouble was that Froggie had croaked; or its gearbox had, so they happily substituted the much more muscle-bound Triumph.

Those first few miles were testing, as suspension which behaved as if it wasn't there allowed bodywork and chassis to rumba together to the sound of the engine's two-litre grumble.

By the end of those first testing miles, we were getting along tolerably well, and I'd learned to play a tune on the gearbox and three overdrive options, making good use of more torque than might be found in a girls' school re-union.

Once the learning curve had straightened, daughter Ruth and I were ready for the event; she on the tulips, me as the steering wheel attendant of a car three times her age.

This unlikely trio was one of sixty Lincoln starters. Counted off the line well ahead of our correct time by a cold official who didn't care which car left, so long as someone did at the top of every minute, we soon put the city's sleepy Sunday-morning streets behind us.

With the hood down Ruth had to shout road book instructions above the noise of the engine, from which I had by now discovered how to draw a noise as glorious as a recently-awoken volcano.

At this point there was no-one else on the road, God was in his Heaven, and all was well with the world. Certainly it was cold, but we didn't know that the wind was later to bring with it enough rain to fill the cockpit.

As an 'improver' in the classic car run stakes with navigating and driving experience behind me in a Tiger, a TC, and a Riley Sprite, I thought I knew what to expect.

I was wrong. They take classic motoring very seriously, do some of these AXA Classic competitors. Very seriously indeed. Seriously enough to corrupt the lines of an XK Jaguar with a roll cage, or those of a MkII Jaguar with arches flared to accommodate enough rubber to keep a plantation in business.

Alongside us awaiting the start was a screaming red Triumph TR4, bonnet propped ajar to improve cooling; louvres cut in the wings to do the same; brake drums like dustbin lids at the back; discs up front which would have stopped the Flying Scotsman; Halda on the nearside of the dash.

Never saw him again.

Then there was the blue dot in the driving mirror which gradually grew into a bumperless TR4 somewhere in the Cotswolds. I thought I was no slouch at that point, but he still managed to snort past me, changing up as he did so.

Never saw him again, either.

And what of the red T-type MG? - couldn't tell just what type as it flashed past us, leather flying helmets flapping. To be fair, we were stationary at the time, doing an impromptu photo shoot in front of the stunning stone arch which formed someone's gateway. I caught him eventually, but as we twisted through the lanes, and the only gear-changing I was doing was in and out of overdrive top, I let him go.

He must have done some work on his engine, gearbox, and spindly steering to maintain perfectly legal speeds on roads like those; he had to have done.

You've guessed it; never saw him again.

Given the appalling British weather, why did this nation, home of nine months of miserable weather and three months of winter, build so many open cars? And furthermore, when modern cars offer year-round armchair warmth and comfort, why do we still love the old ones so much?

If there had to be just one reason, then it would be this - to take part in the eclectic mobile car collection called the AXA Classic.

Ruth and I are looking forward to the 2000 event being a real corker! SJP

Stopping places:

- Belvoir Castle; Motor Heritage Centre, Gaydon; MIRA; Millbrook.

Quotes of the day:

- "Is that a Dodge Charger or is it a Mustang..? Oh, it's a Shelby Cobra, is it?" Commentator to driver of said Cobra, who just taken it to over 140mph on Millbrook's high-speed bowl.

- "Is there much room in the back? I want something I can put my Border Collie into." Spectator as I got out of the TR4A at Gaydon.

- "We've got a bottle of very pleasant Beaujolais Villages; it's Chinese. Look at the writing on the back." Woman in Fifties costume for 'Best Dressed Motorist' contest, next to whom we'd parked in our Sixties outfits whilst her driver nonchalantly changed his trousers in front of several hundred onlookers.

Best sight of the day:

- Supercharged monster of a Bentley being reverse-parked and left at Gaydon as if it were any other car.

Worst sight of the day:

- Two men in duffel coats winning the 'Best Dressed Motorist' award in our class, after all the trouble Ruth had taken.

High points:

- Starting. We'd waited for this since entries opened in January;

- Being ushered onto the MIRA's acres of Tarmac, and invited to drive as fast as we wanted;

Low points:

- Realising the weather not only could get worse, but was undoubtedly going to.

- Putting up a reluctant hood with cold fingers in the rain at Millbrook whilst trying to stop water filling the car. Isn't it amazing how much a pullover can drink before it's full?

Would we do it again?:

- Oh, undoubtedly. Why don't more Lincolnshire Louth Motor Club members take the plunge?