To get to know someone, it can take years to truly see who they are but there are two other ways to fast-forward this process. One would be to look through their internet search history (not recommended) and the other is to look at something that can be equally as shameful, their car history. So to know me, let us do that . . .
I was fortunate to get a car as soon as I passed my test at the ripe old age of 17 years and 5 months. A car my Dad had bought off a mate, who in turn had bought it as his son’s first car. His son realising that now he was 18, just having a car was not enough for the girls in the village, instead it had to be something that oozed cool, and a Seat Cordoba is not the one.
It had the finest aftermarket wheels Halfords could sell you, an exhaust the size of a can of baked beans and a 1.4 16v (very important the valves at that age) that at the time might as well have been a rocket. Being 17 and now a self-appointed driving god, I would like to say my first car had a good life and we had many adventures but sadly, three weeks after collecting the keys it had found its way to make friends with a lamppost in a moment of some very teenage over ambitious driving.
To Be Continued . . .
Shifting Thoughts 