It’s are hard life for the likes of you and me. Us who appreciate a car for being more than a convenience that takes us from point a to point b. We who admire these machines for more than function, more than being simply tools of the world. Together we crave their potential, their symbolic statuses, their history and prestige. Going for a drive for the sheer enjoyment of velocity is a rare thing indeed and something the majority are blind to. We have our heroes, they come in many shapes and sizes. These specimens of perfection in our eyes represent hopes, dreams, aspirations and the satisfaction of ownership. However the kingdom of which they earned is no longer theirs to roam free.

Cars that once were the centerpiece of a small boys poster proudly on display in his bedroom are still photographed, but not by adoring fans. The foot soldiers of a land that once relished in the howl of a V6 on a country road scar their paint with flashes of persecution. The man of tax feeds like a mosquito on those who pilot these machines, men who don’t just drive for self enjoyment, but in many cases as a public service displaying their automotive art. Speed bumps grind at their bellies, parking clamps invade their integrity and traffic wardens dirty their purity.

For us a car can be our ultimate exclamation of ones aspirations and achievements. So governments of the world listen fast… You can take our freedoms; you can fine us, scream and shout at us, and make life as a petrol head generally unpleasant through your tyranny. But you will never take our cars.