WHEN I was a student I had a car called an Austin Seven. It was considerably older than I was and keeping it going needed much tender loving care. Its arrival at petrol stations often produced a spasm of nostalgia among the more mature mechanics. Elderly gentlemen in overalls would emerge on the forecourt and insist on having the bonnet opened so they could look at the innards.
One of them told me that when he was an Austin Seven owner he used to take the engine out and overhaul it on his kitchen table.
The handbook would give you a list of things you should do before each journey, things you should do every week, every month and so on.
Times have changed. When my latest car was delivered the salesman made it clear that I was not expected to fiddle with it between visits to the manufacturer's service centre.
We did look briefly under the bonnet, home of several water bottles for various purposes, and the battery. We did not bother to visit the engine, which lives under the front seats. In fact I have still never seen it.
Come to that I have never seen the spare wheel either. If the need arises I shall have to look it up in the book.
Anyway, this is the standard to which the manufacturers of modern machinery for domestic use - even large items such as a car - now aspire. You take it home, you plug it in, you switch it on, and it works.