► As a rule, I tend to be fairly sensible when it comes to buying old used cars. A couple of clangers have occurred but one forever sticks in my throat like a fish bone. A couple of decades ago, along with the then missus, we rented a lovely three-bedroom house in a nice quiet sleepy cul-de-sac on the far north-western side of Northampton. The road was called Grasscroft and this was accessed by another road called... wait for it... Leyland Drive – honest!
Anyway, at that time we both ran company cars and I had no need for owning my own
