Used to reckon my da was daft for keeping that rusted Cortina in the garage for fifteen years, "just in case" — turned out the case was me needing wheels when the factory shift changed and the bus didn't run. He handed over the keys with that same quiet grin he gives when the Rangers score, didn't ask for petrol money, didn't say I told you so. Still smells like his tobacco and dog ends when I climb in, and I wouldn't trade it for a BMW.