I’m 61. I sat in a splitty my Dad bought way, way back when me and my brother were really young. It sat for two weeks at the front of the house whilst we just looked inside and outside in awe at it. We agreed for years it was the one we remembered. Little trips out to countryside picnics. Then he gave it to my uncle and we were gutted. The same Uncle bought my lovely little Mini countryman estate when I was brassic. I reckon he knew a good one when he saw it!! My Dad had about 150 cars (slight exaggeration but it felt like it) which were his choice of the week or month. He even bought a black taxi cab home once, which Mum hit ballistic country about. He got rid pretty soonish. We drove around in either luxury cars in leather and walnut or had a Hillman Imp. I remember being picked up from school once resulting in being sat on the back of a motorbike without crash helmet on a Francis Barnett doing a Barry Sheene around a roundabout peeing myself. No wonder I loved the slow, dignified pace of the dub. The VW Split experience must have stayed because my brother dreams of owning a dub. I obviously own one, or I wouldn’t be here, and want to keep mine on the road. I can’t afford to, but......Hey!!. 61 years old would bring stability financially you would imagine. No chance. The beautiful. lovely, little beast eats up the wages. But........Dub or Hillman Imp? You decide.
