I wish that every single car that my family has owned had been kept in a dry barn instead of being sold on or traded in, my grandfathers ivory Volvo Amazon where I used to steer while sitting on his lap (I only found out years later that he steered with his knees), my mothers Fiat 500 that always stalled in the wrong places but had a full-length sunroof, her later Mini that we used to cram several kids, dogs and luggage into, my fathers green Morris Traveller (with wood on the outside) that my childhood girlfriend and I used to slide down (it was parked on a slope) without giving any thought to the fact that jeans had rivets in the 70's (we even poured sand and gravel on it to go faster). Remember my dad shaking his head in disbelief when he saw it - and the DIY respray using a reversed vacuum cleaner and how the droplets of green paint was carried through the air across a whole factory yard and onto the side of my uncles white Jaguar Mk II that became a sick shade of green (now we laugh at this, not so much then...).
Now my own kids love to ride in the Pagoda and in my 82' Land Rover and who am I to deny them the right to own and drive these cars later on if they want to?
Financial crisis or not, I'll hang onto my cars for as long as I can...
