LA VIE EN RUST
We’re in a manky car park in Chesterfield at about 9am on a Sunday morning, and the place is filling up with a motley array of old cars. I’m with my rock-climbing buddy Andy, who is wearing an ear-to-ear grin. He has never had a morning quite like this.
It started a while before, when we met up at Mick Ward’s house. I know from 17 years of experience that a rendezvous chez Mick usually precedes an unlikely, but hugely enjoyable escapade. This is Andy’s first time, roped in because Mick needed an
