Fran Clark

I used to work in Halifax and on my way to work occasionally saw a green Figaro, I had no idea what I was looking at but knew I wanted one of these quirky cars.  Unbeknown to me, my partner Jeremy had listened to me raving about this little car and done some research.  One Saturday morning, he said he was taking me out for the day but wouldn’t say where we were going.

We arrived in North Yorkshire, at a garage and I was delighted to drive a Figaro for the very first time.    I loved it immediately, cruising down country lanes and then opening it up on the bypass.  The purr of the engine, the beautiful leather seats, the way the roof folds down but the windows still keep the wind out so the only bad hair days are the ones you would have had anyway, the radio, perfectly designed to complement the stylish dashboard, the implied 1950’s glamour turning heads wherever you drive.

Eight years on, I still love my Fig and can’t wait for spring to arrive so that Fenella, as my car is known, can come out of hibernation and we can explore North Wales where we now live.