Ihave been driving since I was around 16, when I started saving my money to buy my own car , it was an old Ford Prefect that cost me £100, and was really an old banger, but my oh my, it was my pride and joy. How basic it was when I look back , no carpet, indicators were little orange stickey-out things on the sides, and a gear stick worthy of a poker with a huge white plastic knob on the end. It had a footoperated headlight dimmer switch, something you don t see nowadays, and had a choke button too , unless you are of a certain age you won t have come across one , but you pulled it to start the engine when it was cold. I didn t know why at the time, it was just something you did. And it was tricky, as leaving it out too long fooded the engine and it wouldn t start at all. No seatbelts either. Driving in Portugal Cars last longer here, due to a dryer climate minimalising rust. Te obvious diference here is driving on the right-hand side of the road, but the basic shapes and colours of road signs here and the UK are similar. Both countries generally adhere to the Vienna Convention on Road Signs and Signals, which standardises the symbols used. But there are some key diferences, particularly in the specifcs of what they indicate and the use of text, and of course speed in kilometres and not miles. Other major diferences include on-thespot fnes, and an aggressive driving culture. Seat belts are mandatory today My old car has probably been recycled into bean cans or something by now, but if I still had that old car, I would probably be allowed to drive it without a seat belt. In many jurisdictions, classic cars manufactured before seatbelts were mandatory are exempt from the requirement to have seatbelts installed. However, it s strongly recommended to retroft seatbelts for safety reasons, and if you go that route, not wearing the one you installed is generally against the law, and you might get nicked. The one that got away Many years later, I was about to buy a new car, and had been given a budget. I had done the rounds of gleaming car showrooms and slick salesmen, and hadn t really found what I wanted. What I wanted wasn t really in my price range anyway , something sporty, something smooth and plush, maybe a soft top, with a big noisy engine. But I kept looking. Tis is the story of the car I lusted for. Walking the dog one day past the local garage, something caught my eye. An old Porsche, hidden in among the second-hand Toyotas and Fords, etc. A Porsche! In my price bracket! I was in love! I hurried home, checked the dog in, and anxiously returned, heart beating, and sweating slightly, and wove my way through the tightly parked cars to get a good view of my yearned-for car , but my shoulders drooped as I took a closer look. It was a Porsche for sure - a 911, my favourite. It was old, but still roared into life when the salesman eagerly started it for me, but I was never going to drive it as it was boxed in by more saleable cars. Closer inspection revealed that it had also been badly repainted , a cheap looking gold colour, and had been lined inside with sheepskin for heavens sake. I would have looked like a middle-aged pimp or drug dealer in it, not the elegant woman-about-town look I was hoping for. So I didn t get it. Defeated, I settled for a smart yellow 2L Renault Megane. Oh, it was quick, reasonably stylish at the time and had room for the kids - but it wasn t a Porsche. It didn t have that iconic design, nor a racy heritage. No head-turning throaty roar when you turned the key. No sensation of power and control. No G-forces when you took of. But on refection, if anyone knows the whereabouts of that gold, fur-lined Porsche, can you let me know? I just might give it another look. My first car started mine “The views expressed on this page are those of the author and not of The Portugal News” Marilyn Sheridan