Jings, that reminds me of getting lifts to the pub from a local farmer years ago; he used his old dear's shopping trolley, which was whatever the local garage had for cheap, but it also doubled as the farm hack so you had to fight for space on the back seat with bags of feed, fertiliser, bales of hay and on more than one memorable occasion a dead sheep. Seats and carpets were invariably caked with mud and shit. Cheaper than a taxi though, so more beer!