Addiction

The Full Story

Where It All Started

My journey didn’t begin on public roads — it began on the family farm, blasting around fields in a Reliant Robin as a teenager. It was light, unstable, slightly terrifying, and perfect for learning exactly how far you can push a three-wheeled car before physics intervenes.

My first proper road car was a Sunburst Red Ford Escort 1.3 (PDD 697W). Honest, simple, and endlessly forgiving, it was the gateway that turned a teenage fascination into a lifelong obsession. And from there, the collection didn’t slow down… it accelerated.

BMWs, Fords, Peugeots, Volkswagens, Seats, Citroëns, Fiats, Nissans — if it had wheels and a logbook, there’s a good chance I’ve owned it.
Some cars stayed for years. Others stayed for a week.
A few probably wished I had stayed longer.

The Evolution of the Addiction

Every car taught me something:

The BMW 3.0 Si taught me that power is addictive.
The Fiat 127 taught me that not all cars enjoy enthusiasm.
The Golf GTIs taught me that nostalgia is expensive.
The Citroëns and Passats taught me that comfort takes many forms.
The Fiat 500s taught me that the smallest cars often have the biggest personalities.

Some purchases were brilliant.
Some were questionable.
Some were very questionable.
But every one of them kept the addiction alive.

Some of the More… Questionable Cars

With a list of over sixty cars, it’s fair to say not all of them were automotive masterpieces. Some were bargains. Some were bad decisions. Some were Talbot Sambas.

Yes — plural.

And before anyone asks why anyone would willingly own three Talbot Sambas…
I actually have a reasonable explanation. (Not that I need to justify anything.)

The first one I did buy intentionally — it was local, cheap, and at the time I just needed something to get me around.
Perfect candidate: a Talbot Samba.

About a month into ownership, while I was working in a motor factor, a customer walked in and asked:

“Whose Talbot Samba is that outside?”

I reluctantly put my hand up.

“Mine…”

He nodded, thought for a moment, and then said:

“Do you want another one?
It’s free — just come and drive it away.”

So I did.

Two weeks later — and I promise this actually happened — a completely different customer came in and repeated the exact same line:

“Who owns the Talbot Samba outside?”

Same raised hand.
Same sheepish expression.
Same outcome.

Another free Samba.

So that’s how I ended up with three:
one I bought… and two that essentially adopted me.

They weren’t the only questionable choices in my automotive history, of course:

Cars that barely ran
Cars that shouldn’t have run
Cars that introduced me to new swear words
Cars I owned for such a short time they barely learned my name

But every single one added something to the story — even the Sambas.

Arriving at the Current Fleet

Today, the collection has a bit more purpose — and far better stories behind it.
Each car in the fleet has its own personality:

Scarlett — Porsche 911 (996.2)

A Guards Red 911 I didn’t win at auction… but somehow bought anyway. A mix of fate, timing, and an opportunity too good to ignore.

Homer — Tesla Model 3 Performance

Silent, brutally quick, and unbelievably cheap to run (around 90p a day to commute). Proof that you can be a petrol lover and still appreciate electric.

Cassie — 1984 Ford Capri 1.6 Laser

The car that cemented my classic car journey.

Vader — 1986 Mk2 Golf GTI

The dark side of the collection. Once MOT-exempt, Vader will be looking for a new home.

Juliette — 1969 Fiat 500

Small in size, huge in character.

The Family Fleet

My wife’s Kia EV6 (a lovely car — just don’t tell Homer).
And our 2007 Hobby T550 motorhome, perfect for escaping when the driveway gets too full.

Why This Website Exists

After 60-plus cars, thousands of miles, a few mistakes, several great decisions, and more memories than I can count, I realised something:

Cars don’t just take you places — they tell your story.

This website is where I document mine:
the past, the present, and whatever comes next.

Will there be more cars?

…Obviously.

There’s always another chapter waiting.