Wheels on Fire

Was my motor a deadly ticking time bomb.

- Clare Stone

By Heather Gilluley, 46, from Strathaven, Lanarkshire

We’ll need a reliable car now there’s a little one on the way,’ said my husband Tom, 46, and I nodded.

It was an awful lot of money, but our daughter Kelly, 25, was expecting our first grandchild, and we were going to be hands-on with childcare.

It was 2012, and we’d decided to trade in our old BMW for a £12,500, metallic-grey Vauxhall Zafira B. It had more space for a buggy in the boot, would be a reliable drive.

When Kelly had Leah, I realised just what precious cargo would be on board.

‘You’re Nanny’s special girl,’ I whispered to her.

In October 2015, my son Colin, 27, and his partner Katie, 30, had twin boys, Logan and Lyle.

They were eight weeks early, tiny, but perfect. I was so proud.

Lyle needed constant oxygen and regular checkups, but neither Colin nor Katie drove.

‘Nanny’s taxi to the rescue,’ I grinned.

Thankfully, there was enough room for two more car seats in the Zafira.

As the boys grew stronger, Tom and I would pack up the car and take the kids for days out to the seaside.