When I was around eight or nine I somehow got it in my mind that it would be totally tubular (yes, that's how I talked in the Eighties) if Santa brought me a junk car to put in our backyard. There was a junk yard full of hundreds of rusting, broken down cars on the way to our local airport, and the sight had made an impression on me. “Why exactly do you want …. (For some odd reason my uncle had one at his house at some point – working on it perhaps? – and I fell in love.) … …
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The King of Impractical Gifts — The Spohrs Are Multiplying…
