They were very odd looking vehicles, dumpy and four square, with camouflage liberally spread across any bits that might attract attention.

They didn't look much like a vehicle of any great merit and in any case they were American and were known as General Purpose vehicles which about said it all. 'General Purpose' then became, almost by default, the 'Jeep' by running the initials together and so the workhorse of the American Army was born and introduced to Britain.

In those far-off days they were used for ferrying anything, including human beings, from A to B in any kind of weather and at any time of the day or night.

For some reason, there never seemed to be any difficulty over getting petrol for them and, while it seemed that officers had first call on their services, many an enlisted man went to dances at the wheel of the hard-working little four square vehicle.

I must admit that I had one or two trips and yes, the wind DID blow in some funny places as I can testify from personal experience.

But it was transport in an era that tended to be short of that commodity, especially if one was wearing one's best civvies for an evening out.

Now the humble Jeep has been transmogrified into what are called 'Off Roaders', or the very posh 4x4 and are the preferred transport of some of our younger members of society. Sadly, they are not always the better behaved members.

I have been contacted by a reader who has been watching in horror as grass verges have been chewed up and spat out by thoughtless drivers parking these monsters on any piece of land which happens to be free at the time.

The descendants of the friendly little Jeep, which could be parked on a sixpence, have become marauding monsters, as anyone who has been chased down a country road by the latest 'must have' will testify.

My reader felt particularly aggrieved, as most of the grass verges where this happened were well kept and mowed so that the general surroundings were pleasant.

These large vehicles are not called 'Off Roaders' for nothing. Off Road is where they belong. It does seem a pity that some individuals do not consider other folk when they are at the wheel of a motor vehicle, be it a Mini or a Monster.

Do you remember A A Milne's Toad Of Toad Hall when he got behind the wheel of a car? It would seem he is alive and well and living in Sussex.

One thing is for sure - if Toad decided to visit Brighton at a weekend he would not have the remotest chance of driving at a speed greater than about five miles an hour, as the single line of cars slowly edges its way into the city, carefully picking its way through road works, badly (and often illegally) parked cars, past car parks which were full some hours ago, in the hope of spending time - not to mention money - in our shops.

I can hardly wait for the start of the football season and the influx of cars that will bring. I have no reason to suppose this year's crop of supporters will be any more likely to be able to read DO NOT PARK signs than their predecessors.

No doubt a few more grass verges will get chewed up, but hey! It's only grass and in any case it's not mine, so who cares!

I was in a happy reminiscent mood when I started this article, remembering some good times from those far-off wartime days, but listen to me grumbling now. That is the effect football has on me! Cricket and Rugby don't seem to have the same effect somehow.

But then, let's look on the bright side - if the traffic moves slowly enough, half of the supporters will miss the start of the match and may decide in future to go by bus.

Then our grass would be spared, we would be able to get out of the side roads, the supporters would see the match and we would all go home happy.

In your dreams babe, in your dreams!