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If Carrie, Craig and Danielsun had any doubts as to the intensity of my affliction, then the Motor Show will surely have put them to rest.
Bluebottle already knows that I am beyond help.
To my delight, the organisers of the classic cars section of the show chose to display one of the truly great cars. A car I have literally dreamed of driving, a car I am determined to own, or at least one very like it.
A 1929 4.5 litre, open touring Bentley. This one was in green. Perhaps out of preference mine would be black, with red leather upholstery.
The vintage Bentley is the king of the road. Majestic. Regal. Elegant. Refined. Enduring. Fast. Very, very fast - for a two-ton car with 70-year old brakes.
The only reason that I was coaxed away from the Bentley to see the rest of the show, was the knowledge that this is the only year that the year 2001 models were on display. In seventy years time, they will all be iron oxide. In seventy years time, that Bentley will still be running, still holding her own against any piece of modern tin that the industry chooses to pit against her.
There may be faster cars. There may be more comfortable ones. But none of them have the winged "B" piercing the slipstream. I will not be truly happy until there is a Bentley in my stable.
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