Holiday Blog 1956

Shortly after our marriage we realised that the old cars that we had had for a couple of years would never be reliable enough for extensive touring, unless you also wanted the adventure of uncertain return. At that time new cars had a long waiting list and were expensive, those made in England were also remarkably old fashioned and so we bought one of the first FIAT 600 cars to be imported. It was of course absolutely tiny, but was very economical and fun to drive as well as being very rare – always an advantage if you are not seeking anonymity.

After a few months we decided to drive across Europe to Austria then down to Venice, returning via the Italian Lakes and France. Somewhat rashly, given the limited space available my parents volunteered to come with us. One evening we told our farming relatives of the plan, there was a long silence, then one said “You can’t drive to Venice”, “Why not?” “Because you don’t know the way!”

There were formalities that had to be observed in those distant times that are no longer required. To cross the English Channel you required marine insurance in addition to the normal cover. All over Europe, that was still recovering from the war that had ended more than a decade earlier, every time you entered or left a country the car’s carnet had to be checked to ensure that you didn’t sell it while in the country. Currency rates had the habit of fluctuating wildly, so crossing frontiers became very time consuming – passport control, checking that you still had the car, changing currency and when entering Italy obtaining petrol vouchers that enabled foreign tourists to buy petrol more cheaply.

Our preparations were quite simple, and mainly devoted to restricting our luggage so that it could be distributed around the car in small packages while still leaving room for four adults. Many continental roads were heavily cambered, and following the advice of the motoring press, it was usual to have slightly higher pressure in the right hand tyres to help compensate for the tilt and extra load on the downhill side. One difference between cars then and now is how much maintenance intervals have changed, the FIAT service interval was 900 miles so that on a round Europe jaunt servicing was needed.

On the afternoon of our departure we discovered an oil leak from the gearbox. It was far too late to have it rectified before we left. But stocking up with cans of oil we replenished it with an icing sugar syringe, while lying down behind the back axle, and continued to do so at frequent intervals until we found a garage that could replace the seal – in Paris.

Our first surprise was at Dover, where we discovered that the car had to be craned on board the ferry with the few others making the journey. On arrival at Calais the crane driver had considerable verve, but was accident free. The only embarrassment being that with our small wheels we needed dockhands to push the car over the planks used to locate the crane slings.

We soon discovered that the only garage that could replace the oil seal was in Paris, this was not on our planned route but despite arriving in the evening we found a very simple hotel in which my wife had stayed when a student. It was close to the Champs Elysees so that three of us had our first introduction to continental sophistication; I can still remember the trail of perfume behind the women – so different than the country towns near the airfields where I had been working. On the next day we visited Notre dame, walked by the Seine, ate dinner on the Boulevard St. Michel and scampered about trying to master crossing the road in the Paris traffic, the country bumpkins had come to town!

After two nights in Paris waiting for the car we left at midday for the East. The roads were quite narrow and we were about the slowest car on the road. You met herds of cows walking in single file along the edge of the road, someone said that this was due to them being shod with lopsided shoes so that it was more comfortable to be on the point of maximum camber, we did not check the veracity of this statement. Oxen were still in use to pull carts. At one village a woman was washing clothes on a board in a stream. Truly, country France was exactly as shown by Jacques Tati in Jour de Fete. As we left the Paris basin and reached the foothills of the Jura the country side and the housing became harsher. Once again, although we arrived in the evening at Belfort, it was not difficult to find a hotel. The town was very quiet, the shop lights went out at ten and nothing disturbed our sleep.

The next morning we were away by nine and were soon in the cleanliness of Switzerland, one of the few countries untouched by the war. We took our picnic lunch by the side of lake Zurich, in bright sunshine, yachts sailing close by, fine houses behind us and the benefits of prolonged peace clear to see.

In and out of Lichtenstein to the Arlberg Pass. The road ran high above the river valley and the barrier at the edge was not continuous, my mother was a nervous traveller and was much relieved when we descended and she no longer had an unrestricted view of the drop. We arrived at the hotel in Innsbruck at 8pm, only to find that they had let the room! Fury! Fortunately another was available, it was very comfortable and very cheap but had no restaurant, however; we managed to eat well locally before a well deserved rest.

The next morning we spent in Innsbruck then took the cable car up the Patscherkofel from Igls. It began to rain, and rain…………….