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The moment I saw Barbara Bach board the white Lotus Esprit in The Spy Who Loved Me, I was smitten. When this 12-year-old grew up, he was going to have one just the same, revealed from behind the electric garage doors of a Mid-Century Modern house with the touch of a button, because he was going to be an architect, black roll-neck sweater optional. Somehow life took a different path and I find myself with a Victorian house and Sixties Jaguar. And its garage door has to be opened manually. Apart from a near miss with a gold S2 that was ruled out by an intrusive aftermarket sunroof, I’ve never since come close. I thought they’d forever sit waiting for me in that slot owned by perpetually affordable junior supercars. That held…