The very best is yet to come

My Dad owned a Peugeot once. It was red and had a small spoiler, I think. Other than that, I remember very little.

Apart from when we went to collect it. I remember jumping on the train, heading towards Brighton, my dad signing some papers, and then jumping into the Pug. I wasn’t very interested, not because I disliked the car, but simply because my interest in cars had not fully set in.

The 405 was a good car, from what I remember (very little), but a rather common one. You see, the adverts used to sell the 405 were nothing short of remarkable; true Mona Lisas in a dog-turd, modern art world of terrible advertising slogans and false promises of rust free motoring and high performance, exhilarating driving.

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And they were adverts, the