I’ve never counted them, but the number of separate and distinct car models I’ve driven, from the most common and the most cheap, to the most rare and expensive, must run to several thousand. I know I am a lucky chap.
This may seem like an undignified boast but it isn’t. I’ve been paid to test and write about cars for the past 48 years; if someone keeps paying you to do a job you love, why not do it?
One of my failures, however, has been never to develop a special, unconditional love for any one marque.
Maybe I’ve subconsciously avoided it because in the day job it’s not very helpful. If you’re supposed to make untainted judgements about new products you should avoid favouring a particular brand.
My other problem, if it is a problem, is that I’ve always liked and seen a role for nearly every car – yes, even FSO and Wartburg. But along the way I’ve admired people for whom Peugeot 504s or Morris Eights are the be-all-and-end-all, seeing how they settle for knowing everything there is to know and how they enjoy the company of like-minded people.