One day a Rolls Royce overtook as we motored down a steep gradient. The driver flipped us the bird.
Nobody puts Baby in the corner.
Pedal to the metal we fly past in a Formula One race. Black exhaust smoke billows.
We land safely at the foot of the hill, C achieved, hot brakes screaming, tyres shredding.
Score: Baby-Blue one, Rude-Roller nil.
You can always rely on a Reliant.