From the archive: on this day in 1942

Motor training then featured a number specific steps that had to be mastered in turn, lasting a minimum of five weeks. (Women were there, too, although learning to drive large staff cars, not lorries.)

In one area of the camp was a large modelled road plan, used to explain the best practice in various situations. In another, a chassis donated by Vauxhall was used to explain the function and adjustment of parts (pictured). Elsewhere, parts were given for practising maintenance.

The backbone, though, was the daily task system: 16 maintenance tasks done across each of the 14 days. The course graduation test then contained 11 parameters.

Clearly it worked, as these men averaged only one incident, many just minor, every 40,000 miles.

A Mercedes-Benz owner defends his car's reliability

We and our readers had made some unkind comments about Mercedes-Benz cars, and despite it “being a production of enemy origin”, one Broughton Parker felt obligated to defend his 290 cabriolet. Steering like a lorry? No way. Made of cheap tin? Absurd. It hadn’t gone wrong in 80,000 miles while being good for 70mph and not bothered by steep inclines, all while delivering 18mpg. Having owned 18 cars, Parker knew none that gave him such confidence and comfort, and in trying a small British sports car, he had longed for his 290, so rough was the ride. It still looked modern after six years, too.

Advertising the war effort

Supply restrictions recently have led car firms to almost stop advertising in print. Not so in the 1940s, when they instead bought space to highlight their war work. Rolls-Royce boasted of “the fine significance of its name” continuing in RAF aircraft such as the Spitfire (pictured); Alvis spoke of “supremacy and quality through land and air”, having turned its hand to armoured vehicles; Lagonda tried simply to inspire, rather than shout about its flamethrowers; and Lodge illustrated how its spark plugs were used in every kind of vital vehicle.