This car isn't mine, it's my Mum's. You can tell it's not mine because it works most of the time. Just thought you might like to know what I drive when the Rover's broken down.

From certain points of view, the Mark I Peugeot 309 could be considered the best car in the world. This example is criminally neglected; it lives outside, it never gets washed or serviced, it's driven very few miles by someone who never revs higher than 3,000... and yet it doesn't have a patch of rust on it, and it hardly ever breaks down.

So it's worth about as much as a Mars Bar, looks like a housebrick and drives like a pram? Who cares, when you only use it to get to Sainsbury's? Anyway: The first time I saw this car I was being picked up from Cub Scouts in it, age 8. Later I learned to drive in it. I've had sex in it. It still carries me around when my own cars let me down. I'm allowed to have some affection for it.

Please note that even the modern, everyday mundane in my life is (a)nearly as old as me and (b)French.

RIP 1986-2004
After a lifetime of total neglect and sterling service, the 309 finally passed beyond the point of useful service at the June 2004 MoT. Needing a new clutch, new gearbox linkages, new tyres all round, new steering rack, new shocks and dampers all round and some other sundry bits and pieces Mum finally realised it would be cheaper to buy a really nice M-plate 106 and have a good car than do all the work and still own a 309.

Batmobile, we salute you. By the end you were horrible and even dangerous to drive, but I've never, ever seen a car take so much neglect. When we stripped you, we only even found a few inches of rust. You lived a good life.

But I wish I could have driven you really hard round the nurburgring just once before the end. Next time, eh.