Missy Charm

That's probably what I'd drive if I was rich enough to afford a posh car like a Mondeo on an 08 plate.

Stunning!* *I still prefer the Escort...

Oh yes! Really doesn't get much better than that, does it. Looks great in that colour too. Is there a DeLorean in the garage?

I learnt to drive in a then new but now almost-certainly scrapped early model Vauxhall Corsa*. Yuck. On topic: a privateer type driving instructor was plying his/her trade in Ipswich in a pre-facelift Mk2 Focus a year or so ago. He/she seemed to favour the car-park opposite the office I worked in for pupils to practise manoeuvring, so I'd see the thing quite often during ciggy breaks. I don't work there any more (Ipswich), so have no idea whether the Focus is still going. A Mk2 Focus is hardly antique, but even the youngest ones are now older than the average driving school car. *a car so shite that it's too shite for Autoshite... Seriously, even here nobody seems to like them.

Is that when you have the crispy pankhurst rolls?

Is there a feminist angle to this collection?

We've all heard of the mark 3 Mondeo. Almost everybody will have been in one, a good percentage have driven the things and plenty have owned them. Not a rare car, by any means. But did you know that mark 3 had a Taiwanese sister? Me neither. The car shown is a Far-Eastern market Ford Mondeo Metrostar, manufactured (or assembled) in Taiwan. The Metrostar was an ordinary European Mondeo underneath, but had a few local alterations to make it more appealing in the Asia-Pacific region. The smaller petrol engines and diesels weren't available and most, if not all, had automatic transmission - the Metrostar was sold as a luxury car. Equipment levels were correspondingly higher and, seemingly, only the saloon body was offered. Principal amongst the differences, however, was the styling. The European mark three was one from Ford's Germanic styling school, as opposed to the mark 1 and 2 following transatlantic lines. The Asians seem to prefer the transatlantic way, meaning that the Euro-Mondeo required a new look for their market. Thus the car was given a generic, late-nineties American-style makeover in Taiwan and the Metrostar was born. The end product looked something like the third generation Ford/Mercury Contour would have, had such a thing existed. Indirectly it did, in the form of the later American Ford Fusion, which looked a bit Mondeo like but was mechanically unrelated. A shame really, given that the Mondeo Metrostar was better looking than the genuine Stateside article it was supposed to be aping. Most Metrostar stuff on the internet is Chinese, meaning it's difficult to find. One can glean, however, that there were a number of styling revisions during the car's life: and: and even a tarted-up one:

I'm not completely convinced that car is road legal, at least not with @DVee8 behind the wheel. Foreign plated private cars enjoy a six month (in some cases longer) exemption from the usual tax on import rules if they are brought into the country on a temporary basis by a foreign resident. That exemption ends if the car passes into the hands of a UK resident, which means there is an immediate requirement for the car to either be taxed or taken off the road. The former can only be done if the thing is UK registered, which in turn requires the ball to start rolling vis a vis the import process - NOVA declaration and the like. Whether anyone is likely to do anything about it, enforcement wise, is another matter, but it's something to bear in mind. What's the deal with insurance?

Direct Line massively hiked my renewal for next year, too, so perhaps they're doing so across the board. I've been with them for years, but have defected to Esure for next year as a result. The new policy is coming in at £320 odd, with a few added extras. Basic cost was under £300. Direct Line wanted over £400! Ridiculous.

Love 😍. He's folded his little mouth over the corn so adorably; looks like he's playing a little saxophone. And surely that's a dangerously non-shite sort of biscuit?

It's the car version of a Go Go Hamster:

That was a working hearse at one time. Here's a couple of photos of it in happier (sadder?) times: Although, a more recent snap shows it having developed the boss-eyed look, along with deterioration of the bodywork: The carriage lamps/ornamental lampposts were still on the roof at that point. These things always seem to die after leaving the custody of their original owners. Call them projects or labours of love but what they are are monuments to an individual, the limits of ego and imagination realized in metal and fibreglass. They never seem to survive without that psychic attachment, are nothing without the living part. It's the same with certain houses, although they get remodelled. Street machines aren't quite the same because customizers change them. A Zephyr or similar can have multiple paint jobs, multiple alterations and multiple lives. Pure custom jobs such as that hearse only live once.

I had an Astra as a hire car four or five years ago. It had a badge on the back that said 'TURBO'. I was initially quite excited because, as any fule kno, 'TURBO' means fast! It didn't.

They did: the YRV Turbo. One was (possibly still is) up for sale at a garage just off the A12; it's been there for years. Was vaguely interested myself at one point, but then decided I wasn't upon learning all the turbo models are automatic. What's the point of that? They weren't big sellers, for obvious reasons.

Looks lovely and clean inside. And, stop press, all the digital segments on the orange Vauxhall screen-thing that never works properly are, erm, working properly. That's never happened before. Anywhere. Ever. I swear all Vauxhalls used to leave the factory with those things pre-broken; the screens used to display a smeared mess that looked like one of those coloured sand in a bottle art pieces that had been shaken.

For obvious reasons, a few New York cab firms imported Peugeots to use during the oil crises. The cars' diesel engines would have offered significant advantages in terms of fuel consumption, which in turn would have led to a wider profit-margin at the relevant time. One assumes, however, that finding drivers would have been more difficult if the French cars were equipped with manual gearboxes. The average cabbie might, then anyway, have been capable of handling a small engine and three pedals in Big Apple traffic, but would he have wanted to? He may well have defected to another firm still running the familiar Dodges or Chevrolets or even Checkers*. That said, the Peugeot must have been in harness for some time. The bustle back Seville with television aerial at the left of the photo dates it to the early eighties; the Chevy looks like an eighties one too. The Peugeot, despite being an outlier in the photo, wasn't alone. Here are some more photos of Frenchmen in New York: and a 505: Note the Federal spec bumpers, corner lights and sealed beam headlights. They were diesel too, apparently, and, at one point, there were over 850 registered in NYC plying their trade. How interesting! *check out the air-conditioner on the roof of the Checker cab!

Commendable effort! Should be unfalteringly average to drive too, when it's running. I remember test-driving a five door fastback variant of similar vintage many years ago and finding it acceptable on all fronts. Unfortunately, purchase was out of the question on the basis of a life by the sea having left the thing rustier than a trawler's propellor. Yours looks much cleaner. I had a purple 1.6 shrieking cam special a few years later; wasn't the same as the eighties Corolla.

That's probably just dry overspray on the factory paint. Wet flatting runs the risk of damaging the good paint underneath, which will send you back to square one. A rub over with Farecla G3 or similar light cutting compound often works wonders; you want to take off the overspray and leave what's beneath intact, whilst blending the new and old areas together. A second opinion would be nice; it's a long time since I've painted anything, so I'm quite rusty these days!

I only meant what I said in the spirit of 'chin up, worse things happen at sea'; perhaps the humour didn't come through. The car looks in fabulous condition, and I hope a few paint issues won't detract, or indeed distract, from that. Perhaps I have a blunt style of writing and/or speaking. Regardless, there was no desire to insult, offend or otherwise seek conflict; I trust that evidence of that is provided by my interactions with others.

Christ, if a little paint blistering was all that was wrong with my car, I'd be laughing! Please fix the leaking garage roof, by the way. A damp garage is about the worst place one can keep a car...

I've recently put Valeo wiper blades on my car, front and back. There was no particular reason to choose that make, but Valeo are what the local factor sell and I can't be bothered shopping around for such a mundane thing. Anyway, the new blades fit well and seem to do a good job. They are quieter than the old ones too which were, of course, Bosch. God only knows how old the Bosch ones were, in fairness. I live in a very dry part of the country so barely use the wipers!

Spanish bran find? El locacion de cereales, surely! Nice to see the work that goes into keeping these old buses going. My parents had an L registration 1.8 Mondeo hatchback in the nineties; it was a great car that looked smart in maroon coachwork but met its maker one night on the A12 when someone failed to look when exiting a slip road. The maroon car was replaced by a State Blue mark two with a two litre engine; that was faster and better specified (may even have been a Ghia), but succumbed to the usual mark two foibles of bumpers that cracked like eggshells at the slightest contact and ended up looking quite shabby. That car was replaced by another blue one, a mark three with a two litre petrol engine. The mark three was probably the best of the bunch, being a Ghia X with a cream leather interior. Overall quality seemed a little higher on the mark three, and the engine was better. It was sold, eventually. Separately to all that, I have owned two Mondeos, both mark ones. The first was an N reg baby blue example that - I think - was an Si Ghia. Did such a thing exist? Anyway it had a strange mixture of styles in the interior: sports seats and wooden dashboard fascia. The exterior was beautiful: full RS Zender bodykit with Ghia grille, spoiler and sports alloy wheels. I liked the car but never loved it as there was only a two-litre under the bonnet. Without any real go to back up the looks, it was too much of an all fur coat and no knickers proposition for me. Someone else has mentioned traction control; baby blue didn't have it, but I would encounter the system later... My second Mondeo was a straight Si, i.e. not a Ghia, so had the sporting accoutrements but not the delusions of luxury. It didn't look quite as good, being Diamond White, but still came with the RS Zender kit and the alloys. Said kit was a variation on the normal one, which had a Ford Contour style oval grille. Best of all, of course, was the V6 that powered the thing. It was the normal spec. 2.5 litre, which gave better performance than any of the four cylinders without being Earth-shattering in any particular way. The best bits were the smooth and supple character, which made the car seem plusher than it really was, and the sound, which elicited a frisson whenever heard. The worst bits were the traction control, which was horribly intrusive, and the head-gasket failure that consigned the car to the scrapheap.

A last of the line (circa 2001) Fiesta with the 1.3 pushrod engine and power steering. The latter was a godsend, given the standard fitment of a stupid, small-diameter steering wheel. It wasn't glamorous or well equipped but it could nudge the ton in fourth gear and go round any corner one chose to turn at sixty odd. The engine was noisy and lacked refinement but provided reasonable pulling power round town and just kept going. Less is more, often.

Wunup Wayne - Invariably middle aged and male The fact that Wunup Wayne knows nothing about cars does nothing to prevent him proceeding through life in the belief that he is expert in the subject and has a duty to school the rest of us mere mortals in all things automotive. Wayne watches Formula One racing and has seen every episode of Top Gear, Fifth Gear and that one they have on cable. He says he buys his car insurance from a broker who he describes as 'a mate of mine'; said broker, Wayne alleges, offers Wayne a fully comprehensive policy with unlikely seeming add-ons such as guaranteed stretch-limousine courtesy car for about half the price of your policy. Wayne always asks, as a prelude to his insurance broker anecdote, what you pay for your policy. He won't, however, tell you who the broker is if you decide to take an interest and ask for the name of this prince among policy writers; the broker's identity cannot be divulged on the basis that it would be useless to you - the man only sells insurance to existing clients and friends, you see. Wayne has further 'mates' in 'the trade' who, he says, give him the choicest titbits of information regarding what to buy and where. Those purchases inevitably, in Wayne's stories, are made at MOD or Home Office or emergency service auctions and result in him driving away in almost brand new cars. The cars are generally ordinary, Mondeos or Vectras or similar, but, according to Wayne, cost about 20p to buy. He also claims that, because the previous owner of his car was the government or the Met or David Cameron's MI5 trained hairdresser, the car is special and has had modifications made by either Cosworths or 'the boys at VOSA'. Said modifications cannot really be talked about, but give the family saloon better handling than a sports car and a top speed of 'at least 150 mph'. They occasionally also result in mysterious 'holes in the dashboard where they took equipment out. I know how to use it, but it's illegal to own' and deactivated buttons that Wayne is unable to divulge the erstwhile functions of. He also cannot divulge any pertinent facts - dates, times, firms holding, etc. - regarding the auctions he attends. One day, for some reason, you'll get to see Wunup Wayne's car, which will be the promised Mondeo/Vectra, and will wonder why it's a completely non-official looking shade of metallic green. You will also notice that it appears to be completely normal and is a diesel rather than an ST200 or GSI. You will further see that it has got a sticker saying 'Trustyprice Used Cars' or similar in the back window. If asked, Wunup Wayne will say either that what you saw was 'the wife's car' or that the Home Office put fake dealer transfers and the like on their Q-cars to make them blend in better.

Most of the usual suspects have been covered already and covered very well, but I think there are a few more to add: The Orient Expressionist: of either gender and ranging in age from the twenties to early middle-age, these individuals are notable for their fetishization of anything and everything Oriental, most often Japanese. They will claim to have unparalleled expertise in the Japanese language and an intimate understanding of the culture garnered, respectively, by having read the first chapter of 'Teach Yourself Japanese for Absolute Beginners' and having once had a conversation about Buddhism with the owner of the local hippie shop. The Oriental Expressionist's real passions are Japanese computer games, Japanese cartoon films, buying packets of instant noodles from the Oriental grocery and taking them to work to eat in front of his or her colleagues, buying bottles of Kikkoman or similar soy sauce from said Oriental grocery without realizing one can purchase the same thing in Sainsbury's, dressing up as cartoon characters (if female) and collecting figurines and soft toys. Dressing up has been mentioned, but females will dress down in tops or tee shirts depicting cartoon characters, usually paired with miniskirts and ankle socks. Males tend to wear unbuttoned collared shirts over tee shirts and baggy combat trousers. Both sexes will have various bits of Chinese made but not authentically Chinese styled jewellery that they wear at all times regardless of other dress or occasion. Both, too, will have at least one decorative Samurai sword on a Perspex stand somewhere in the house. The Orient Expressionist's car of choice is a Japanese grey-market import, but few can afford them. Wheels, instead, tend to be normal UK issue MX5s and MR2s of somewhat aged vintage and in decaying condition. These tend to be lowered and adorned with stickers and trinketry, but would often look far better with the tat taken off and a thorough clean. Hopping Mod: Invariably male and fifty odd. He was born some years after the original mod era and was a babe-in-arms during the revival. Despite that, he reveres The Jam and The Who and two-tone and ska and Northern Soul without really understanding why or why his father, who was a punk, looks down on the latter and finds the whole thing rather regressive. Undeterred, Hopping Mod watches Quadrophenia every Friday night on the 54" widescreen telly in his garage man-cave and then falls into a lager-brought stupor and dreams of the old days he never saw: the chalk cliffs of the South Coast; of Brighton and Margate and Southend-on-Sea; of a land without motorways in which Zephyrs and Crestas cruised along neon washed promenades with outriders on Italian motor scooters festooned with mirrors and auxiliary lamps. He tried to read 'Brighton Rock' once, to comprehend where it all began, but didn't get past the first chapter. Anyway, Saturday morning rolls round and Hopping Mod emerges from the man-cave aboard a toffee-apple red vintage Vespa that he paid twice the going rate for. The scooter gleams like a ruby but smokes like a factory chimney as the result of an engine that's not had an expert near it in years. Hopping Mod doesn't care, he services the thing himself. He feels great! He's too fat to fit in a tonic suit but he's got a snorkel parka with a target patch sewn on the sleeve and an open-face tin helmet to hide his bald patch. Away he goes in the direction of Caister or Hastings or somewhere like that, having arranged to meet his friends at the edge of town and form a convoy. Back he comes on a recovery truck after spending countless hours in a lay-by with three other mod revivalists from the same convoy who had similarly broken down. He'll do the same thing next weekend...