You can read the last instalment of my Corvair odyssey by clicking here. But I can summarise the story so far in one sentence: it’s snowing, I’m in the middle of America and I’ve travelled half way around the world to buy a car I’m no longer sure I want.

Corvair The drive gives more time to consider the Corvair, as glimpsed in the rear-view mirror on the U-Haul trailer behind our Ford rental car. I find its coke bottle, pillarless coupe styling massively stylish – GM design was at its zenith in the mid ‘sixties when the Corvair was conceived – and the prospect of that rear-mounted, flat-six engine intrigues me.

During (frequent) fuel stops we get the chance to inspect the Corvair in more detail, and notice that its body bears none of the pin-prick dents and ripples that old cars usually bear, that its wheel-arches are remarkably free of dirt, as is the rest of an underside that’s more easily inspected when strapped to a trailer.