As I write this, a voice in my head is saying, “boring old git”. This may, or may not be true. Even so, I do find myself yawning when I read about the fastest car around the Nurburgring since last Tuesday. Even less interesting are the breathless announcements of new, ever faster supercars and hypercars, claiming ever more ballistic performance.…
I just saw a lovely, but not especially rare Citroen 2CV for sale. A 1979 Club model, in what appears to be very nicely restored condition. For sale at Classic Throttle Shop, as I write this at the end of October 2018.
I love a good argument, even with myself. After declaring the so-called new supercars/hypercars a waste of time and money in an earlier post (Supercars. So fast, so amazing. So what?) I have just read an article about the Adrian Newey – designed Aston Martin Valkyrie that has caused me to re-assess the whole genre.…
I love driving, especially outside Australia which must boast some of the world’s most moronic drivers. Any opportunity to get behind the wheel beyond our shores reminds me what a miserable country this is for a petrolhead like me. (Hmmm, quick aside – will we have ‘voltheads’ in the future?).…
A car shed! Yes, there have been some big changes to our household lately when we moved from the leafy, lower North Shore in Sydney to the even leafier and cooler climes of Wentworth Falls, in the Upper Blue Mountains. In January this year, my wife, Dexter the dog, the two cats, Brodie and Ashley, and I, all went on a voyage of discovery, leaving Sydney after 30 years – blimey, what have we done?…
Ah, car noises. When I was about three years old (so I have been told) I used to guess what car was going past our house by identifying its exhaust note, while hiding behind the curtains. And, (apparently), I would be successful most of the time. Even now, I can ‘hear’ those distinctive noises in my head, the ‘farty’ exhaust note of a Morris Minor, curiously completely different to an Austin with the same BMC A-series motor.…
Growing up in suburban South London in the late fifties and sixties, foreign cars were still a very rare sight on the roads. I knew they existed because my father took my brother and me to the Motor Show in Earls Court every year. There, we saw them in the metal.…
