He had just taken delivery of this rather splendid Mercedes-Benz S350 and was excited to be driving it, he said, but following the short drive home his mood changed dramatically. He became pensive and quiet, his wife told me. Later in the day he began mumbling to himself and repeatedly going to his front room window to look at the car, then going outside, walking round it, sitting in it and then disappearing off on drives lasting some hours.
Upon returning home the mumbling would be punctuated by key words and phrases: "Perfect!" "Never in all my years..." "Is there nothing wrong with it?" and, latterly, "**** me that thing is unbelievable!" He grew despondent, depressed. "What the hell am I going to write? I can't find a single fault with the thing! It's just too good," he exclaimed, out of the blue, during dinner that night.
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