It was a dark and stormy night. The little Mustang was was roaming through a crowd-desert and beginning to see crowd-mirages with increasing regularity. After traveling miles and miles of endless road, and desperate to satiate its thirst for the blood of the innocent, he made a sudden swerve to invoke the Sacred Rite…

Sitting as I do on a damp island recently cut adrift from Europe, most of my knowledge of the USA comes from films. One car features in those above all else - the Ford Crown Victoria. It’s like the vehicular version of deep fried butter.

Payback for that bullshit diet-version E36 M3 we got.