I've just watched the video of the launch of the Aston Martin, with lots of loud music, flashing lights and smoke, to cover up the banality of the car itself. Couldn't help but think about the days when Ken Tyrrell used to roll the car out of his shed, or Colin Chapman would rip a sheet off of a car outside his Manor house. Then the drivers would sit on the front wheels and smile for about half a dozen camera men, two of which were from the local paper.
And when we saw the cars they looked different. They had been designed and were unique. They weren't just different colours, using a template inflicted on the teams by a governing body more concerned with the show.
Sits and gazes wistfully out of the window for days of yore, when the sun always shone and beer was tuppence a pint...