In this issue, we look back half a century to a time when car parks were colourful places and Top Trumps ruled the playground. 1975 was the year I started school. I remember my teacher, Mrs Wilson, drove a cream Triumph Toledo, which I thought was the coolest car in the staff car park, but cooler was yet to come. Within a year she had a Vauxhall Chevette that, to me, looked like it had flown in from space. Even better, my best friend’s dad, by 1978, owned a TR7. This was beyond the realms of fantasy and I used to wait with Stuart after school just in case his dad would turn up in the wedge instead of the family Consul GT (Stuart’s dad was a car guy).
This…