Three vehicles that pass in time...

Dear Sheddists,

there's a bundle of traffic near us right now and most of it isn't going anywhere fast real soon.  So I've had the opportunity to reflect on the passing of things.

Three vehicles.

The first I pull alongside is a small family hatchback, its reddened flanks and back window advertising the services of a miniature pony party.  I assume this refers to its equine hosts and not the absence of small friends, but conceivably it may apply to both. It brings back memories of my childhood and motes of dust drifting dreamily in the early autumn air as we race pell-mell the length of streets and gardens and row upon row of starchy, regimented privet.

We're scabby-kneed and scrubbed in our Sunday best. White shirts and khaki shorts, running in and out of the floating crinoline dresses and bows of giggling gap-toothed girls who smell strangely different, soapy and buffed in clouds of sweet perfumed talcum powder.  We wolf down egg and cress mayonnaise sandwiches, the posh ones with the crusts cut off, pick the cocktail sausages from their pin-sharp pointy sticks before diving headlong into the wobbly green and red jelly beneath bright swirls of 'hundreds and thousands', the tiny multi-coloured sugar strands that leach strange psychedelic patterns across the rich, white creamy topping in which they are sprinkled.

This is heaven and there's 'Pass the Parcel' and 'Musical Statues' and 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey' and garish party-bagged treasure still to come before mothers arrive to whisk us all home. So simple. No miniature ponies, no Disney-land Princesses, no white Hummer luxury limousines. Just simple, glorious unadulterated childhood pleasure.

Our second vehicle is huge and silvered, decorated with a smiling daisy.

The tidy waste-tanker is emboldened with crisp lettering that reads, 'We're fluent in effluent'. D-tox, is the family business of Roy and Christian Heritage.  It's the embodiment of the West Midlands - industry, application and a rich earthy humour.

The third vehicle is stately and surreal.

It's a black hot-rodded VW Caddy driven by a bearded dwarf. He's strangely serene as I under-take slowly on the blind-side and salute him.

Three vehicles that pass in time ...

Born to be mild

For many years now I've cherished a dream of heading into the sunset, perched behind the wheel of a battered VW split-screen camper-van with speakers blaring full volume.  A little Steppenwolf or Hendrix, perhaps, to soundtrack the trip.

The reality of the situation is I have as much chance of doing that as Aston Villa winning the Premiership.  I possess no mechanical skills whatsoever. Accordingly, the prospect of setting out in a charabanc older than my good self on any journey longer than a visit to the local off-licence fills me with trepidation.  And then there's the garage bills, the endless battle against demon rust, the acceleration potential of a traumatised sloth .. it just doesn't make sense.

Step forward Camper King. A brief but illuminating telephone conversation a few weeks ago with Managing Director, Spencer Grey finds us on the road later that night to his factory premises deep in the heart of Warwickshire.  We're bowled over - two hours of tea, talk and Transporters and hands have been shaken to conclude the deal.

We return at the weekend to take collection of our sparkly new camper-van.  Dear mrs electrofried has already named her 'Veronica', much to the disgust of our youngest who much prefers the subtle variant, 'Verruca'.  There's just no accounting for taste.

Our all important first journey and mrs electrofried stomps on the gas-pedal to take us unsurprisingly toward that fine emporium of Scandinavian good taste nestled just off the M6. No-one does funky quite like Ikea and my better half has us kitted out in next to no time with throws, duvets, covers, cutlery, cushions, boxes and baubles.  What is it with ladies and the nesting instinct?

Veronica's first outing proper is to Norfolk for a few days break at the legendary Shed of Electrofried.  The journey down is fantastic - my wife drives, I wave regally from my commanding position in the passenger seat to a succession of bemused and gesticulating drivers below.  This is the way to travel!

We enjoy a splendid few days showing Veronica the sights.  She visits the seaside, the pub, Waitrose (I catch mrs electrofried furtively sneaking a copy of VW Camper & Bus magazine into our shopping trolley) and best of all a lovely little nature reserve just a few miles from the Shed that we chance upon quite by accident.  There's something quite delicious about settling down in the car-park with a whistling kettle, some fresh-baked bread, a selection of fine cheeses and this month's edition of Mojo.

All in all a super start to our camper-vanning adventures. Born to be mild, indeed!