The inspection sticker has expired on the mem-sahib's station car, so getting her to her morning train means a brief family road trip. Climbing into the car, Secundus finds my cell phone -- missing for three days -- which had fallen under the seat. Daddy duly delighted, despite thwarted plans for iPhone replacement.
On the way home, we spot a Jeep with an unusual color, a striking metallic khaki (the color of Leila barf, according to Primus). I recall wistfully that my last car before I moved from England, a Renault 14TS hatchback nicknamed "Rochester," was a similar color, a goldish green. Or greenish gold. (Since it was a company car, issued to my first wife as a perk, it doesn't make the meager list of "cars I've owned," even though I did more of the driving.)
"Where is it now?" Secundus asks. I calculate that it's been thirty years since it was manufactured, so I suggest that it was probably scrapped a long time ago.
"I hope you didn't leave your cell phone in it," he murmurs.