I OWE my girlfriend an apology.
Nothing too worrying, of course; it's just that she's mentally saving up for an iconic motor of the Sixties, and already I've squandered her imaginary money on something far worse that isn't going to work properly.
She's a travel writer and - predictably - wants to buy a Volkswagen Caravelle, something which in this country is usually seen parked up on stormy shorelines in Cornwall while fans of The Cure desperately look for somewhere to surf.
I do like camper vans, in a passing, pleasant sort of way, but so detailed is her interest in it that she's actually nailed it to the exact model and colour scheme. It's got to be a Type 2 (pictured above) in green or orange, or she isn't interested.
Given that I'm male and stupid, I've therefore decided her money would be much better spent on a secondhand Alfa Romeo, which will drive brilliantly...when it works. I love motoring that's brilliant in an on/off sort of way, because it makes you appreciate those few flawless moments more.
In fact, I could spend hours trawling eBay looking at cars well past their sell-by-date. People often go on about their perfect ten car garages if they had a blank cheque, but that's far too easy.
Give me the price of a new Fiesta - £10,000 - instead and I'd use it to stock up on rusty old Rovers, jetlagged Jags and other useless machines that have been to the moon and back.
You might get classic insurance and a tax exemption on most of them, but whichever way you cut it, you can't go on a surfing trip to Cornwall without breaking down.
Nothing too worrying, of course; it's just that she's mentally saving up for an iconic motor of the Sixties, and already I've squandered her imaginary money on something far worse that isn't going to work properly.
She's a travel writer and - predictably - wants to buy a Volkswagen Caravelle, something which in this country is usually seen parked up on stormy shorelines in Cornwall while fans of The Cure desperately look for somewhere to surf.
I do like camper vans, in a passing, pleasant sort of way, but so detailed is her interest in it that she's actually nailed it to the exact model and colour scheme. It's got to be a Type 2 (pictured above) in green or orange, or she isn't interested.
Given that I'm male and stupid, I've therefore decided her money would be much better spent on a secondhand Alfa Romeo, which will drive brilliantly...when it works. I love motoring that's brilliant in an on/off sort of way, because it makes you appreciate those few flawless moments more.
In fact, I could spend hours trawling eBay looking at cars well past their sell-by-date. People often go on about their perfect ten car garages if they had a blank cheque, but that's far too easy.
Give me the price of a new Fiesta - £10,000 - instead and I'd use it to stock up on rusty old Rovers, jetlagged Jags and other useless machines that have been to the moon and back.
You might get classic insurance and a tax exemption on most of them, but whichever way you cut it, you can't go on a surfing trip to Cornwall without breaking down.
Here's my top ten of rubbish classics for less than a grand, in no particular order:
1) Austin Mini - £1000 won't stretch to a decent Cooper model
2) Jaguar XJ6 Series III - Knackered at this price but beautiful
3) Alfa Romeo 156 Sportwagon - The world's least useful but best looking estate
4) BMW 635Csi - Probably the only truly cool BMW
5) Range Rover Classic - Cheap but no garage complete without one
6) Mazda MX-5 (original) - Bargain open-top thrills
7) Ford Transit (any generation) - Handy for bank jobs
8) Fiat Cinquecento - I just like them, okay?
9) Rover P6 - Gloriously old school motoring
10) Fiat Coupe - Way overdue a comeback
Alternatively, there are plenty of charities in the North West that could probably do with a £10,000 donation, and chances are they'll still be working properly this time next week.
That or spend it on a camper van.
Suggest your own top tens as comments...
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