Well, it all started as a young boy in the fifties travelling in my Dad's huge Humber Imperial from our home village of St Ippollytts in Hertfordshire to London, where the family business was run.
When I was delivered to school in London, everyone at school thought that the tiny boy swamped in a black Gaberdine coat was rich he wasn't, his dad was a car nut and it wore off on me.
If it was big, noisy, smelly, and had wheels on it, Ivor was there.
As I started to grow into a big (well, slightly bigger) noisy and smelly thing myself, I wanted the lot. A Velocette Thruxton, so I could roar down to the Ace Café with the big boys. A 6 ton Foden Steam Lorry like my Granddad used to drive and the biggest, gruntiest V8 anything that was barely road legal, because it would make me happy and I might even be able to impress a bird.
So, I ended up with a 1936 Austin Seven so I could learn to drive. DLG 813 was by no means a muscle car and was highly unlikely to impress anyone, in particular the MOT man, but as the saying goes, if you can drive an Austin Seven, you can drive anything.
Then I went totally bonkers and had amongst loads of other things, a Sunbeam Talbot, a Minivan, a Lanchester a Lotus Super Seven 1500 Cosworth ( which I had for 22 years, what a larf!), A Ford Pop with an Allard Motor, a Buick Skylark, various Morgans, an old Impala and a Vauxhall Cresta with a small block, a ten bolt rear end and beam front axle plus a pair of the patchiest 501 Levis and a haircut to die for just check those pix photographed by my old mate Steve Gears!
I even decided to become a blues and rock star with the Boooze Brothers, until we noticed that the band was outdrinking our fee by about forty quid a night.
The haircut remains pretty much the same, but there's not a lot left these days. That's the result of being a motor trade journalist for fourteen years and then going into the wacky world of automotive PR and promotions, which I do now in beautiful downtown Stony Stratford, near Milton Keynes.
My wonderful wife Rosie seems to be able to put up with anything as long as I'm not out getting drunk or womanising, which is why she doesn't mind me spending hours in the shed messing around with huge pieces of rusty metal
I'm certainly no 100 point originality fanatic, but I do like things put together properly, so they can be driven as much as possible I'm not a polisher!
Anyway, following some strange comments refering to the picture of me pulling a whacky face, including asking did I look like that permanently, I've updated a picture of the bald git, so you can see what I look like these days...blimey, is that some hair growing on the top there?