At the back of a modest mechanical workshop, on a patch of cracked concrete stained by oil and time, an old car rests in silence. No weeds grow here, no vines creep up its sides. Just cold air, metal, and the faint echo of clanging tools from inside the workshop. The once-elegant Citroën B14 stands as if frozen in time. Its paint is faded to a matte shadow of what it once was, its chrome dull and pitted, its tires sagging softly against the ground. It’s not here for repairs a