Walsh kicked it off today and I now hate him for it because I haven't been able to think about anything else since. And I won't sleep tonight, or for the foreseeable, thinking about it. Nothing has troubled me so much since I sought my first mortgage and was presented with a smorgasbord of options that all added up the same over 25 years, but seemed as disparate as cider and stout.
It was a simple question, addressed to the whole C&SC team: "What one car, one car, would you drive right now if you had the opportunity and it was the last car you could ever drive?"
Easy, Auto Union V16.
Oh and Merc W125.
And Lotus 25.
And, just for the buzz a 30, too.
Must be an Alfa 8C in there.
And an SSK.
And the White Riley.
And a London-Edinburgh Silver Ghost.
And the Vanwall streamliner is a given.
A 300S, a 250F.
The Napier-Railton (at Brooklands).
Hang on, road or track, pre- or post-war?
Regardless, I never really felt I had a proper go in a Miura, or any go in a Lambo 400GT.
Road cars, I don't even know where to begin.
I told Walsh that more than anything I want to drive an American car that impresses me on every level, on every dimension, but that someone else must tell me what that car is because I haven't met it yet.
Surely the cruellest question anyone ever asked a classic fanatic.
So, being cruel, I now ask it to you: one [ONE!] car to drive before you die, what's it to be?