I find it quite fascinating, to think about what something was like when it was new, and what all the hypes around it sounded like, when you stand and look at the final resting place of, in this case, the product in question.

All that promise and look at it now. If it could speak, imagine the stories it could tell. The excited new owners, the adventures they all went on. Then, perhaps, the almost as excited second owners, and the lovely life they had together. Then, perhaps, the used car lots, and the tyre kickers, and the less than well to do 3rd owners, who perhaps kept it as a second car. Then the less wealthy owners, who didn’t look after it quite so much. Then the terrifying, 18 year old son of the final owners who drove it so it nuts and bolt rattle. And finally, what could almost be called the postmortem, where some crusty old mechanic gave the not-economically-viable appraisal, and its plates were remove and it was relegated to some back lot where the guys didn’t even bother to wind up all the windows and over successive winters rain got in and destroyed its last hope of being saved by the classic car owner.