Good thing he didn't know where to find the trigger.
The car of the day was a basic, yellow Fiesta Festival, with smallest petrol engine available. I had left the UK with intentions of going back to basics and getting out of the stupid rat-race of car fantasy equated with status etc. etc. and enjoying lfe on a more rational level of existence. So, trying to get the hell out of the guard's sight was never about to turn into a gun-challenging, screeching wheels sort of take-off... maybe he was just bored or fancied the look of my wife's long hair. Mabe trigger training was scheduled for next week?
Anyway, be that as it may, the tiny engine didn't last: after a few airport trips with family coming and going on holiday, the realisation that passing a bus (or even a farm cart) meant taking our lives into my hands, coupled with the arrival of a new model of Fiesta, the XR2, with bags of power for such a small car, soon saw the small, eco-friendly death trap absorbed into that long list of personal mistakes.
Loved the red stripe!