Here's another sentence you won't hear often.

Thank God we finally got rid of the Bentley.
  There, finally got it off my chest.
  I must have driven virtually every car in the world, and that includes Wartburgs, Messerschmitts and a Cadillac El Dorado with the approximate dimensions of Glasgow. I've even driven a Ford Anglia and actually owned a Hillman Super Minx which really shows the depths to which I have willingly sunk.
  But that Bentley Continental. Was the designer drunk or on illegal pharmaceuticals when he came up with that one? He must have been working for Porsche when they designed a foot operated parking brake to a manual Porsche Cayenne and I thought that was about as cretinous an idea as anyone could come up with.
   Gutless, noisy and a fuel slurping glutton, that's the car not me. If the sat-nav wasn't informing me I was in a different county from the one I really was in or telling me that I'd used up a whole tank of fuel after driving less than one hundred miles, the Marquis de Sade designed seats would happilyprevent a single drop of blood circulating below the waist causing me to stagger out of it like some drunken maniac after even a fifteen minute drive.
  The trouble is, though, we're swapping it for a Jag. Maybe the Bentley wasn't so bad after all.