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But ugh, some models—total junk. Rust buckets, broke down fast. Pissed me off—why ya gotta betray me? Like “Eat the pain, chew it up!”—I’d kick the tires. Still, that Mk1 Escort? Pure gold, baby. Quirky fact: Escort name came from a boat! Ford’s yacht or somethin’—who knew?

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain! Like, seriously? I’m caught off guard, and I’m sprinting for cover. I duck into this little pub, The Old Bridge, and grab a pint. I’m soaked, but hey, at least I’m dry now, right? I start chatting with the bartender, and he tells me about the local ghost stories. Apparently, the old bridge is haunted! I’m like, “No way!” But he’s dead serious. I’m intrigued, but also a bit freaked out.

Future of Hunts garden centre that closed before Christmas is confirmed