My $1500 first car budget did not extend to a ready-to-drive 1962 EJ or a ’66 HR, however my love for vintage cars never waned.

I settled for a 1962 Morris Major.

It was my pride and joy and, in my mind, beat a fellow student’s Volkswagon Beatle as the coolest car around in the College car park.

The joy I felt driving it – and still do – is difficult to explain to those who do not foster a love for cars; from the beauty of old-time craftsmanship and design, the smell, inside and out, and the sound to the feel of the steering, the heavy throttle and the vinyl seats burning your legs in summer.

Then there were the quirks (no speedometer did not matter much – it didn’t go too fast anyway). There was that time the indicators stopped working and my friends and I were forced to put our arms out the window, the countless times I flooded the engine in Canberra winter as I mastered the use of the choke, that trip we did about five miles per-hour up the Clyde Mountain, and the time the wheel nuts came loose and the wheels nearly fell off driving up Hindmarsh Drive.

The simplicity of the build and the engine can only be appreciated in times like these, making for easy problem diagnosis and (usually) easy fixes.

But my love for that car goes much deeper.

There were the hours spent with dad learning how it worked, fixing it, polishing it and trawling the internet and wreaking yards to find parts (happy Fathers Day dad).

It is knowing that heads turning and strangers waving or giving you the thumbs up, is acknowledgement of your hard work.

It probably sounds trivial, but to those who do not understand, cars can be much more than a means to get from point A to point B.

Such is the reason motoring enthusiasts flock to the South Coast Nationals each year – it is about sharing the passion.