About 18 years ago, while on holiday in the Auvergne region, my wife and I picked up a paraglider that had ended up rather unhappily in a meadow full of indignant cows. We were happy to do something. The paraglider looked grateful, although he was a little worried about the car in which we were going to take him back to the mountain peak he had come from. A classic Citroën, which would be beautiful if we had had the money to keep it in top condition. He told of the v...
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