Having recently moved back to my adopted country – la belle France – I was in need of a daily runabout. As I have access to a ‘sensible’ vehicle in my better half’s new Land Rover Defender, I am in the fortunate position of being able to allow myself something fun. And, French, naturellement – it seems a shame to live in the land of cheese and wine and choose to eat sausage.
But I was born in Ireland, not France, and us Irish share more than just some strands of DNA with our Scottish cousins – we are sometimes rather averse to spending money. Or even worse, losing money. So, something cheap that will not depreciate like a stone toppling off a cliff. Oh yes, one final criteria – I need something speed-camera proof.
France is sadly infested with automatic radars these days. Before leaving the country a few years back, my licence, I am ashamed to admit, had as many little stars as a cheesy Simon Cowell TV show. A few years of voluntary exile means my points have timed out and my licence is as clean and innocent as a freshly wiped slate – and I firmly intend to keep it like that. So I went in search of something fun, cheap and very slow.
