A Less Filthy Weekend

- Andy Enright

I’VE COME to the conclusion that you’re either a clean car person or you aren’t. I know of colleagues who take an almost disturbing pleasure in getting all hot and sudsy with their vehicle, and others who prefer to wear constellations of bug splats and baked-on brake dust as badges of honour.

I thought I was in the latter camp. I used to love seeing Le Mans cars arrive at Good wood, still scarred with rubber streaks, oil stains, and with bits of pheasant stuck in their grilles. Now I think I’m turning to the other side and becoming a regular at the jet-wash. I enjoy getting the Countryman dirty, but among the acres of gleaming metal in the Wheels car park, I’m getting filth-shamed.