DIRTY STUFF
WHEN I was young and didn’t know much, I went to work in a used-car yard that specialised in selling sports cars. I worked the usual stuff: winding back speedos; fixing cars without spending money; using my smarts on stuff I didn’t know.
One car was in a group of swaps from another yard where the principals had agreed to get rid of stock they couldn’t sell in return for cars that they might. This particular
