What a great story about caravanning in the 60s
Still on the Wally of the Week theme but off topic as far as caravans are concerned, when I left school at 15 I was an apprentice motor mechanic at a large dealership which specialised in Triumph and Rootes Group products.
After a few weeks of making tea, sweeping up, passing tools to the 'real' mechanics I was let loose on a few cars which required oil and filter changes.
I was as proud as a peacock with my company overalls with the company name on the top pocket, hand wiping rag hanging nonchalantly from my overall leg pocket and most of all with being allowed to operate the hydraulic ramp by myself after the car oil change candidate had been driven onto the ramp by someone older (but not necessarily qualified to drive, my wally-ness soon paled into insignificance as it turned out
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A lovely dark green Singer Vogue which was based on the Hilman Super Minx was driven onto the ramp for me and the foreman told me that this customer had requested the new engine oil - Castrol GTX.
This motor oil was the last word in automotive lubrication technology back then, much more expensive than the bog standard engine oil that was dispensed by 'my' lube bay pump.
I collected the Castrol GTX from the stores with a jaunty spring in my step, arranged clean measuring jugs and a good funnel and lifted up the ramp to drain the old engine oil and to change the oil filter from underneath the car. Of course I used my bit of pocket mechanics wiping rag to have a good tidy round underneath the car, happy in the knowledge that I was doing a great job which I enjoyed.
I lowered the ramp and just then the foreman came over and told me that I was going to learn all about 'plugs and points'.
He showed me how to undo the old spark plugs and passed on helpful information about signs to look out for with the colour and condition of the used spark plug electrodes.
Joy of joys, he even allowed me to set the electrode gap using his feeler gauge and then to carefully screw 'my' spark plug into the cylinder block without cross threading the block or breaking the plug.
I was chuffed to little mint balls as I envisaged the career as a top motor racing mechanic which must surely lie ahead.
Still asking the patient foreman lots of questions I produced my mechanics rag with a modest flourish to carefully wipe round the rocker cover before wiping the oil filler cap prior to removal.
Acutely concious that my new best friend,mentor and foreman was still there watching and being thoroughly impressed by the bright young 15 year old star mechanical protege I very carefully measured half of the required amount of oil by transfering it carefully from the Castrol tin to my clean metal measuring jug and with the deft skill and unswerving concentration of a brain surgeon I poured the new GTX into the engine using my appropriately sized funnel.
I was just about to turn round in order to introduce the remainder of the oil to my now empty measuring jug when the foreman uttered a strange seldom heard word which schoolboy jokes had only hinted at the meaning of.
Spreading from underneath the ramp plates was a puddle of very clean, very expensive Castrol GTX.
I'd forgotten to replace the sump plug and had given the Singer Vogue one of the (then) most expensive engine oil flushes in history!!
This took a long time to live down, for ages after the workshop resounded to ribald cries of "Don't forget the sump plug!" and my torment only ended when the aforementioned older but unqualified driver put a Triumph Vitesse 2 Litre into the inspection pit