Been connecting with my inner wings recently (easier than the whole third eye turmoil). That's the inner wings on a tame Volkswagen of course. The dark and mysterious place where all manner of unwelcome road crap ends up stuck between the body and the liner and weighs down your ride nicely. It's all damp and contaminated and likely to eat through the fragile body of your car at any moment. It was a perverse joy cleaning them out, hosing down the muck and collecting it in a nearby skip, then painting them with special paint designed to withstand a nuclear attack but maybe not a mild Scottish winter. We'll see. Having said that I can remember when cars didn't have inner wings and just rusted away and died by the roadside, invariably just a few days after you'd bought them from a "reliable dealer".
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