We all have that one car—the one we let slip through our fingers, only to be haunted by regret ever since. For me, it was a 1981 Triumph TR7, transformed from humble beginnings into a roaring beast thanks to a 3.9 litre Rover V8 which my dad and I rebuilt, and an S&S Preparations conversion kit. This wasn’t just a car; it was my daily companion, my pride at weekend shows, and my adrenaline-fuelled partner on drag strips across the country. From 1988 to 1995, the TR7 was more than metal and rubber—it was a chapter of my life.
But temptation struck. The lure of a Ford Capri 2.8 Injection, with dreams of 5-litre Mustang power, proved irresistible. I sold the TR7, chasing a new fantasy that, as fate would have it, never materialised—a story for another time.
Recently, memories of my old TR7 have grown stronger. I find myself scouring Autotrader and Car and Classic, searching for that elusive fixed head coupe in Inca Yellow, V8 rumbling under the bonnet. Yet, the market is cruel: the few V8s out there are priced far beyond reach, and none match the spirit of my lost companion.
Some cars are more than machines—they’re milestones, reminders of who we were and what we chased. My Triumph TR7 was all that and more. And as I search in vain, the regret lingers, bittersweet and enduring.
