It would be great for a prospector gang, roaming a lawless landscape, unlikely to be chastised for not wearing a seatbelt

Flatbed trucks always have names like speciality condoms – Titan, Hilux, Trojan – and the Amarok Aventura took this one step further (I’m a rock, I’m a roll, I’m adventura! I’m your worst nightmare and your wildest dream). But it was a sensitive vehicle with a highly responsive automatic gearbox. In sports mode, it sounded like it was having a panic attack, which made me think masculinity exacts its own heavy price; but how handy it was never to have to think, “Will this fit in my car?” Everything fits in this car. It was a constant battle between civic duty and fun-seeking, as children asked to be ferried about on the flatbed and I had to say no.

You couldn’t forget you weren’t driving a regular car, but at speed it never laboured or showed its bulk. The question is: who would need it? While there are sweet touches – a lid over the back that you can pull closed with a rope and pretend you’re in The Grapes Of Wrath; six decent speakers for the transmission of bluegrass – unless you often need to transport bulky items the weight makes you long for a fitting purpose, as if you had a border collie and no sheep.

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