One of the joys of reading old motoring literature is the effusiveness of the prose, which is often shoved into the shade only by the outlandishness of the claims it masks.
Whether it be in adverts, owners' handbooks or manufacturers' literature, there seemed to be a tacit understanding in the 1960s that, like US bhp figures, a lovely bit of flowery writing was far more important than the information actually being useful. Or true.
Recently, I think I discovered my favourite example of all because as well as outrageous cheek it demonstrates a certain ingenuity to get around a bit of a thorny issue.
While sitting in my Elan +2 reading the owners' manual but avoiding tackling the actual job I had set out to do because of the finger-eating weather, I distracted myself by happening across the section on safety features.
Now, it is not as if this is filled with bare-faced lies, but what amuses me is the straightness of the face with which Lotus, clearly feeling obliged by the sensitivities of modern '60s safety-conscious (or at least death aware) society, must have conceded that it was imperative to have a section on the engineered-in systems provided to keep skin and bone together like everyone else did.
