Some of you might recall a column of mine from the final digital edition of RUSH, in which I foolishly convinced myself that purchasing an 18 year old modern classic - a French one at that - and daily driving it was somehow sensible.

As is usually the case when the ‘evil brain worm’ infects a mind and erases the capacity for better judgement, it all escalated quickly. My steed of the time, a Clio 200, was rapidly approaching the age where all the mechanical problems start to appear, the cost of the work was getting on for £2,500+ because I have car OCD and struggle to let minor things be. That amounted to 50% of the value of the car at the time. I was also becoming increasingly irritated by having to constantly dodge potholes on my commute to work.

The brain worm immediately burrowed into the section of my brain marked ‘man maths calculator’ and convinced me a Clio 182 was the answer to my frustrations, because I still wanted something fun to drive and cheap to run. Also, having owned one in the past, I knew it had a more forgiving ride than the 200. Despite sharing an engine and only having five forward gears compared to six, the lower weight of the 182 also meant it is significantly better on fuel, punching the first £80/month saving into said calculator.

Now the brain worm had gained its footing, it rapidly swelled to the size of something stalking the dunes of Arrakis, especially once fed its favourite enabler - a particularly tasty bottle of red wine. Rubber stamping the logic of buying an even older version of essentially the same car, because its previous owners will have already been through that period of mechanical and financial pain on my behalf, therefore became a formality.

Those fermented grapes also led me to the idea of a Trophy over a regular 182. Most are cherished and fetishised to within a micron of their paint lacquer by what must be said a fantastic community of owners. Being the last off the line, the limited run of 500 means any niggling problems with the model will have been ironed out after seven years in production…surely? Going for a Trophy also had the appeal of better financial security, due to that holy grail status propping up values.

This presented a slight problem of making the Trophy out of budget, but the brain worm finds a way and it didn’t take long before I was digitally signing on a dotted line to borrow the sum of £10,000. Madness? Not really, when you consider the APR was just 2.9%, meaning the total cost of borrowing the funds would come to give or take £700 pounds, and Trophy’s were appreciating by that amount every six months. The 200’s fate was sealed by the time the last drop of Shiraz passed my lips.