I dislike the term “Classic Car” because it is vague and
ill-defined. I also suspect that it
represents misuse of the English language.
Despite that I always seem to enjoy the big classic car show held every November
at the National Exhibition Centre.
The most interesting thing (from a personal point of view)
about the show is noticing what captures my attention. Fancy stuff from the famous names seldom does
it and my favourite cars get barely a cursory glance; it is the odd stuff, the
things you don’t see every day (or in every other magazine).
Passing time transforms the mundane into the
interesting. How else to account for my
pleasure at seeing a well-preserved, low mileage Fiat 132? It might not be the most inspiring car in the
world but you could say the same of the Morris Marina, a car with a strong – if
occasionally inexplicable – following.
From a certain point of view the appeal of Citroen’s 2CV is
equally difficult to fathom. It isn’t
fast or pretty or luxurious. Some cars
have interiors that are like the inside of a gentlemen’s club; the 2CV is more
like an old potting shed. For all that,
it was a very comfortable place to sit.
The simple, hammock seats somehow manage to provide all the comfort and
support you need as you contemplate the seemingly random collection of
instruments and switches on the dashboard.
Where else would you find a choke control labelled with an “S”? In French “strangulateur” means choke – but don’t
quote me on the spelling.
