Bristol Fighter

Hunted. Shooting up the northbound side of Park Lane, about 200 yards up I caught an unusual yellow shape.

'No way, it can't be', I thought to myself, 'No chance....'

It was. I just floored it, speared across two lanes and gave chase. This was a real, mile-long, traffic weaving, foot to the floor, hunt. And when we stopped, I said to the chap driving it (he was hired help, hiding it away in the cavern below the office block - it had to be backed in though):

"...I need a picture". He duly obliged. Here you go.

Some cars like the Spyker or a Zonda are phenomenal pieces of automotive jewellry. The complete anithesis of run of the mill Passats and Mondeos. Built for emotion. For polarizing opinions. To be indulged and to indulge. If a Mondeo is viewed in any of the three dimensions, it will remain one thing only. It is 'just a car'.

Something like a McLaren F1, though, is built with singular clarity of purpose. I would hesitate to add that a Bugatti Veyron holds this very conceit true, too. There was methodic rhyme and reason to every aspect of it's genesis.

But a Bristol Fighter in many ways fits into neither of these two camps (and there are more). But what it does share, with Spykers, Veyrons and cars of this ilk is something much more. Viewed through the parallax, there's more to them than getting you from A to B. It's about the richness of the experience in doing so.