I hated Mokes. A friend had one and I thought it was the wankiest thing on four wheels. Then for some strange reason one fell in my lap and I found myself the owner of a yellow Mini Moke. It changed my attitude for all time.

My little yellow peril became part of the family. Like the mutt you get from the pound, loveable, bone ugly, but especially yours.

We tizzed it up with the usual few extras. One mod included a double barrel Webber carb that protruded back so far, we had to cut the firewall out, to fit it in. Under acceleration, the noise from that carby, sucking air, was enormous. There was no stereo loud enough to cover it.

My dog loved the Moke and needed no instruction to get in. I think he thought the car was his.

On the days I drove it to the factory, it ended up being the most fought over car when doing local deliveries. Every body wanted a drive. Just too much fun.

The most frightening thing that happened in my Moke was when, one day, on the way to the beach, a friend of mine decided Mokes were so flat, you could probably walk around them. He stood up, with the bottle of bourbon still in his hand (say no more), and proceeded to walk around the Moke. He walked the edge from corner to corner, all four points, before he sat down. I was terrified he was going to fall off, so I concentrated on keeping the car going as straight and steady as I could. Don't have any photos to prove it, but I know of one drunk who has walked the outside of a Moke at high speed (kiddies, please don't do this without adult supervision).

I sold the Moke. Don't really know why. But I have regretted it to this day. Often when I see one struggle down the highway, I get a little lump in my throat. One day........