Reinventing an icon
Sep 02, 2020
3 minutes
I FIRST met the Defender at school. It was a fancy school, with fancy students, the parents of whom had fancy cars, and there, among the BMWs and the Mercedes, was the rusty green square. My father would be in it, beaming, and I’d hop in, slamming the door with a satisfying clunk—out of necessity, as otherwise it would decide to open itself and wave at passing traffic if you went around a particularly sharp corner.
I would wonder what it was
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