Had my father been alive, today would have been his 100th birthday. I'd love to say that he just missed it but, sadly, he came up some 48 years short. He was 52 when he died and I was 18. Needless to say, I've been doing some reminiscing today and have come up with many fond memories. One of those follows...
I was about 9 years old and at Dalwhinnie Primary School in the Highlands of Scotland. One Wednesday, St. Johnstone were playing a match 57 miles South in Perth. (My father and I were football daft.) The kick-off was at 5 p.m. and I finished school at 4. At that time, the A9 road to Perth was narrow, twisty and busy. My father picked me up from school and we were sitting in St. Johnstone's stadium at 4.55 p.m.
And that's why I have never driven!