For me it started with an Italian girlfriend who used to let me drive her Mum's Sud. I was 17.
Why I broke up with her I'll never know. Oh yeah, hang on. That blonde who turned out to be a psycho hose beast. Drat.
But even so, after that error of teenage judgement, Italian Dad put the Sud up for sale, and I offered my life savings of 400 pounds in exchange. He wanted 600 and stuck to that. Then the girl in question drive it up the exhaust pipe of a Ford Granada, and that was it. Brown bread.
I loved that little car, and I've never loved any other car as much. I just "fitted" it. A white, 1.5 Ti. Magnificent on every level.
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