Few things sum up the difference between a dream and reality quite as well as the ‘classic car’. Wouldn’t it be nice, you might say to yourself on a sunny afternoon, if I could hop into an E-Type Jag and go for a drive in the beautiful British countryside? Wouldn’t it be dandy, you might ponder, to fire up an Austin Healey and pootle down to the nearest pub with the roof down, feeling the wind in your hair? Perhaps, you might think, I could put on some goggles and gloves and go to the Goodwood Revival?

The realities of owning one can be somewhat different. The ‘classic car’, by its very definition, is of a certain age and things of a certain age have a habit of breaking. If they are of a very certain age and were manufactured in the Midlands, they will have a serious habit of breaking. As

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