RIGHT now—it being still Thursday evening—there stands on my driveway a smoky-blue VW Golf R, a soberlooking thing, but for the menacing blacked-out rear windows and Akrapovic exhausts that look like the cannons on a Spitfire wing. Anthropomorphically, this car is James Bond in an Anthony Sinclair suit, packing a Walther PPK. Well, four of those, actually. Of the Bonds, it’s definitely more Daniel Craig than Roger Moore, who’s more a Jaguar man, I’d say.
Either way, the numberplate is R50 VWW and I whimsically imagine that might just stand for something like ‘50-something but still Very, Wery Wicked’— pretty much how I feel every time I press the start button and go for another spin. Forgot the milk? Never mind, darling, I’ll just nip out and get some. The post? I’ll take that.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der September 18, 2019-Ausgabe von Country Life UK.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der September 18, 2019-Ausgabe von Country Life UK.
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