I owned BUE 444B (Chassis No. 0006) way back in the early 1970s. Back then, she was originally gold with a painted black vinyl-look roof, which looked better than it sounds! She had a lovely tan and black interior, chrome wire wheels, and for me it was indeed love at first sight. The car had been advertised in the Exchange and Mart and came from near Heathrow Airport. Although generally in reasonable condition, she had an engine that smoked like a trooper with virtually no oil pressure.

We got the car back to Tunbridge Wells where, with the help of Keith's Garage (well known for his GSD Blue Boy and his pet monkey!), she was given a heart transplant in the form of a replacement engine. Good second-hand straight sixes were available at the time. Tuned up, cleaned, and polished – and with all the bits and pieces attended to – BUE was my pride and joy and went like a rocket.

Running a Scimitar at the time on a student grant – with other important financial demands such as nights out and vinyl records – was, to say the least, demanding, even with the support of my girlfriend at the time, who was a hairdresser. There was a small local Reliant dealer with their resplendent new, gleaming GTEs, but this was your last port of call – especially after having to take the parts guy outside to show him that Reliant had actually made a Scimitar with a straight six in it. Having established where Reliant had often "borrowed" things from, a visit to the local BL or Ford garage was often the norm. Second-hand parts were available from breakers, but for special bits, this often meant a lot of travelling, and I eventually purchased a V6 Scimitar insurance write-off which had been extensively fire-damaged. This was not an uncommon fate for Reliants at the time.

The V6 was stored in an old barn and proved invaluable, especially when BUE's limited slip diff gave up the ghost. My Uncle Peter saw me struggling in the dust and grime trying to remove the back axle and, needless to say, he quickly put his overalls on and helped out. The replacement back axle was transported to my parents' home where I set about installing it into BUE on the drive. I can still hear my dad saying, “Audrey, what a mess! He’s playing about with cars again.” Shameful to admit, but I think the offending broken axle was buried in the back garden.

I remember an MOT failure for rust, which required chassis repairs undertaken by a friend, Dave, who had a garage specialising in Lotus opposite the entrance to Brands Hatch. Remember, the car was barely 10 years old at the time, and it is therefore not surprising that many cars eventually needed body-off restorations. Rust prevention in the ’60s and ’70s was certainly not a priority. Most people carried a toolbox and some basic spares with them back then, and this proved a blessing on several occasions. When BUE's brake servo played up, with the help of a hacksaw, some flexible pipe, and jubilee clips, it was bypassed and the journey resumed – with at least some brakes. When, on entering the Southern Counties site compound at Tipner, the cabin filled up with so much smoke that I could not see a hand in front of my face, some insulating tape and wire were useful after the crash rail had been removed to expose all the gauges that had earthed out! Bodywork was approached in a similar manner, with any damage and cracks being rectified with a Halfords fibreglass repair kit and some David’s. The closest colour available in a spray can ensured an effect which certainly was not first class but could best be described as tidy.

One weekend, while sitting in my parents' living room gazing out at BUE on the drive, I noticed a faint indentation on the roof. Closer inspection revealed what appeared to be a line in the shape of a sunroof. Not to be daunted, I attacked the roof with a Stanley knife and one of my mum’s kitchen knives. Hey presto – I had a removable sunroof panel. The original electric sliding roof had long since stopped working and had simply been sealed and painted over. Inevitably, fixed back in with just a bolt and wing nut, the roof leaked like a sieve. I rectified – or to be precise, reduced – the problem by sticking a vinyl cover to the panel which overlapped it all round. This had the approximate visual appearance of a Webasto roof which lifted out instead of sliding. The reduced amount of water ingress was amusing in that, if I got it right and entered a carefully selected corner at speed, I could deposit any accumulated water over the passenger (normally my girlfriend, I’m afraid).

In the few years that I had BUE, we did a lot of miles. My girlfriend, family, and favourite clubs were in Kent, while I worked in Hampshire or studied at Portsmouth Polytechnic. There were many long journeys, often late at night – or to be precise, early in the morning. I would leave the Hilltop at the top of Wrotham Hill very late to proceed via Tonbridge down to Brighton before heading along the coast to Portsmouth, some 90-odd miles in total along A and B roads. BUE just loved the empty, twisting roads and proved to be nimble and fast. She was also a lovely long-legged companion with her overdrive kicking in for the straights. Great driving.

These numerous high-speed trips led to a few encounters with the boys in blue. On one occasion, after being stopped and getting a deserved strong warning, the officer then asked, “What is it?” and proceeded to have a good look under the bonnet to see what was propelling her at such a pace. Another time, half asleep and approaching Portsmouth, I was stopped and informed that a police car had been following me for several miles. He said that I had got a full house in that I had broken every single speed limit. In my defence, this was 2 a.m., and after establishing that I was not a menace to society at large, he asked which offence I would like to pick and suggested the 50 mph one. I agreed and subsequently received the 3 points and a £25 fine. As a student, this was paid off in £1 instalments. Indeed, things were very different back in the ’70s.

BUE, when pushed really hard, could bite you. I do not know if it was the early rear suspension or my immature driving (probably the latter), but I do remember one occasion in particular when I entered a long left-hander near Lewes at speed, when the back end suddenly and violently just went. I stopped a spin into oncoming traffic but mounted the verge and hit a low flint wall. This necessitated retreating to my poor dad’s garage once again over the weekend, with BUE emerging Monday ready to go – albeit without a front bumper.

BUE was sold to a fellow student from Portsmouth Poly who lived in Jersey, where hopefully she enjoyed a more relaxed life for a long while before apparently being finally scrapped. It was to be over 40 years before I drove a SE4 again. I was immediately back in BUE once more. The only difference was how much smaller it was than I remembered. It obviously does not drive like a modern car, but the lovely feel when hurtling along winding roads is still there, as is the wonderful noise from a straight six. Back in the 1970s, SE4s were not yet classics, but they were already rare. I did not realise the significance of BUE 444B being such an early car and registered at the same time as the Earls Court cars. I should have kept the handbook I had at the time.

Of all the cars I have had, my BUE has stirred a lot of memories, and we certainly saw some active service together in more ways than one. It is also the car that I probably have the most regrets about – in that I did not give it the amount of care it really deserved whilst running it on a shoestring like I did.

As for the long-suffering girlfriend? We got married a couple of years later and have lived on Hayling Island in Hants for many years. She is still putting up with me “messing” about with cars – that is, when I can get in them.

- Anton Wittwer, Hayling Island