When I bought my 1960 Wolseley 6/99 last year, one of my reasons was a possible wedding transport for my stepdaughters. Now, it appears that I have three ceremonies to look forward to in the next two years, and so I have been marshalling my arguments. They are -
- There is more than enough room on the back seat for the bride and stepfather of the bride or three bridesmaids.
- Likewise, the headroom is such that the chauffeur or chauffeuse (probably one of my Wolseley enthusiast friends) can wear a peaked cap while at the wheel.
- The guests will be able to exit the Wolseley with grace and elegance.
- The loud hailer on the roof will be helpful for issuing messages and warnings to any tardy family member.
- A black 6/99 looks far more dignified than any American stretched limousine.
- We will save a considerable amount of money. This is not just because I am especially frugal (although I am) but also because the prices of hiring a large saloon of similar vintage for the morning appear to be astronomical.
- There will be no worries about the wedding car not turning up on time or becoming lost (the latter did happen at another stepdaughter’s wedding in 2020).
- Once at the venue, we can use the bell to herald our arrival along the hotel’s driveway.
- The Wolseley will add distinction to any registry office or country house.
- It will look splendid in the photographs.
However, some stepdaughters are not impressed with these ten logical points. Here are some of their responses:
- “It will break down”. How dare they! Besides, that is what the starting handle is for.
- “The wedding photos are about the guests, not the car”. I suppose so, although I, for one, would be more than happy with a framed picture of a 6/99 mounted over the fireplace.
- “No, and you are not booking the music for the reception either”. Such ingratitude. A ride in a Wolseley and a skiffle band in the evening – who could possibly ask for more?
- “It is a car from one of those old black & white films you keep watching” – and?
- “You will disappear after the photographs, hide in the Wolseley, and read books”. That is an utterly unfounded accusation – I would quite openly sit in the Wolseley and read some Simon Brett Charles Paris
I’ll keep you posted as to whether I manage to change their minds…