I'm sitting in front of the TV right now, remote in hand, confident that in the next 60 minutes or so, my life is going to take a turn for the better. You see, for too long now have I hidden a secret, dangerous love, a love that barely dare speak its own name - a love that brings down ridicule and abashment upon me. I love the Rover SD1.
Yes, I know. It's sick isn't it? How can a grown man, a rational man, an objective and critical reviewer of cars, love such a badly made hodgepodge of British Leyland madness? Assembled from only the finest latent rust, upholstered in genuine imitation Draylon and apparently built by people who really didn't like their customers much, the SD1 was emblematic of so much that was wrong with the British car industry in 1970s - problems that would lead in pretty short order to its downfall.
All of the above is true. But, so too is all of the below.
The SD1 could have been an utter world-beater. Like its BL compatriots, the Triumph Stag and Jaguar XJ6 there was so, so much that was right about the SD1. In design and concept, it was brilliant. It was the execution that was lacking.
Remember that the SD1 replaced the lovely but conservative old P6 - an upright, straightforward saloon, pretty in its own way and very good to drive, but not perhaps the most forward looking car by the time of its 1976 replacement. The SD1 (which stood for Special Developments Project 1) was going to be very different indeed. It was shark-nosed and low-slung, instead of bluff and upright. It seemed to take styling inspiration from contemporary Ferraris with its smooth, aerodynamic snout and fastback rear. It was a hatchback for heaven's sake!
Inside, there was a square instrument pod that made swapping between left and right hand drive easier for the factory and lots of space too. And under the bonnet, as long as you avoided the wheezy 2300 model, there was that greatest of engines, the mighty Rover 3.5-litre V8. Ok, so it only had 190hp back then, but you know, cars were lighter and stuff.
Of course, it all went staggeringly downhill. The SD1 was launched to the public (as was I) during 1976. The long hot summer. Hunt versus Lauda. The first passengers on Concorde. And the now-infamous strife, hatred and intransigence (on all sides) at the British Leyland factories, which ensured that, gorgeous though the SD1 may have been, it was never going to be properly built.
That didn't stop it becoming something of a staple of my child hood though. I can still remember playing with a Corgi toy one (dark red with the Vitesse boot spoiler) on the carpet of The Corner House shop in Skibbereen while my mum shopped for clothes. On the TV screens of my youth, countless crime dramas featured SD1s in the livery and lights of a host of constabularies, real and fictional. Unreliable they may have been, but they were pretty good at running down crims. One even makes a cameo in one of my favourite 80s movies - an adaptation of Frederick Forsyth's spy thriller The Fourth Protocol, with none other than Michael Caine and a very young Pierce Bosman - fresh out of Navan and pretending to be a ruthless Russian spy.
My first close-up SD1 experience came when we visited family in England and one of my dad's childhood friends popped over. He had one and it was the first car I had ever seen with a sunroof, (I grew up in West Cork - we were deprived).
Then I got to drive one. This was some time later of course, in 1997 in fact. I was then working in my first proper job, as a junior dogsbody on the staff of Classic and Sports Car magazine. Despatched off to do one of those 'Interesting Stuff In The Classifieds' pieces, I drove the office hack car (a prehistoric 'breadvan' VW Polo with no radio) from London to Bristol to meet a man selling an interesting SD1.
Interesting is putting it mildly. It was a last-of-the-line 1986 model, and no ordinary SD1 at that. Pearlescent blue, it was the high performance Vitesse model. Not only that, but it was one of the super-rare Twin Plenum cars - so called because they had two throttle bodies on the inlet manifold, allegedly boosting power to 220hp and allowing Rover to homologate some very rapid SD1s for Touring Car racing. Not only that also but as well, this was actually the former Rover press demo car, and it was in immaculate condition. Not an easy state in which to maintain an SD1 (they rust rampantly and everything usually falls off) but this one was perfect. The paint shone. The gorgeous BBS cross-spoke alloys were perfect. The pert rubber tail spoiler looked shiny and new. Even the interior was mint - velour everywhere.
I only got to drive it for a quick spin around the block, but I was utterly smitten. It was smooth (so much more comfy in its ride quality than almost any sports saloon you care to mention these days) yet the steering felt alive and precise. And that big-hearted V8 rumbled and growled along with the perfect soundtrack. You could just imagine yourself, starring in an episode of The Professionals, just waiting for someone to commit some daring international crime so that you could rush to the scene, V8 roaring and bellowing, all sideways to victory stuff.
I wish I had bought that car there and then, but I was broke (most journalists usually are). I would have loved to have used it and kept it, even though it would most likely have broken my heart at some stage. I would have loved it even so.
Tonight, on Channel 4, an ex-police Rover SD1 will be the automotive star of the brilliant series For the Love of Cars. Ant Anstead and Philip Glenister (Gene Hunt!) will try to restore and sell an original SD1 and will explore its history and legacy along the way. Maybe this is the start of the SD1's rehabilitation in the public eye. Hopefully so. I'm dying to let my secret love out of the closet.