Growing up as an introvert in a quiet town in Portugal, with a weird car fixation none of my friends really understood, I often retreated to car magazines.
They felt like my safe haven. Invariably, my attention was drawn to the magazines featuring spy shots of as-yet unnamed cars camouflaged as manufacturers tried their best to keep them under wraps (figuratively and literally).
I loved that rare insight behind the scenes of vehicle development, the secretive side of it all. In hindsight, maybe I wasn’t that different from my girlfriends. But while they got their thrills looking at paparazzi shots of some scantily clad B-lister in the gossip column of a tabloid, I found myself staring at Vauxhalls dressed somewhat more demurely in swirly camouflage and ugly bolt-on cladding instead.