Cars – No 8

Cars - No 8
Bloody winter seems to have bogged me down a bit, but I have finally got to the next car. The lovely Lancia went on one of the ugly ducklings of its age, a 1975 (?) Peugeot 504. Mine was avocado in colour (as was my cousin Kevin’s) although I am pretty sure that cousin Peter had both a white one and one identical to that above.

This was a bit of an enigma for me. At the time it was arguable one of the world’s best tourers, superbly comfortable, long “open road” legs, reliable and well-balanced.

But to be honest it was never a car that greatly endeared itself to me. Mine suffered from quite bad wind noise around the front door seals and for some reason I found what was supposed to be the world’s best seats just plain uncomfortable. I never seemed to be able to last much more than an hour behind the wheel without having to stop and walk around a bit.

Nevertheless, the superb brakes on the 504 probably saved my life late one Friday afternoon just outside of Nairne when an overtaking attempt on my behalf failed to realise that there was a car heading straight down the piece of raod that I was planning on using. But the Pug pulled up straight as an arrow in a remarkably short bit of road, saving a sure head-on.

So, car number 8 was a circa-1975 Peugeot 504 and marked the end of my fling with European cars … at least for about 30 years.

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