We live now in a global economy. Investment knows no national boundaries.

Huge chunks of British industry are owned by people who live in other countries and have no loyalty to this one, or to the people they employ here.

What matters to them is the ability of their investments to produce a profit. And if they don't....?

Well, we're seeing the answer at Rover, aren't we? The company makes a loss, so the German company BMW has decided to break it up and sell it off.

There is little point in raging on about the horrid Hun and rekindling the embers of the Second World War. No point either in protesting that BMW are treating their Rover workers and Rover dealers badly. Why should they treat them otherwise? They aren't part of the British community. They don't care what the neighbours think. BMW bosses won't get harangued down at their local by people who don't like the way their company has done things.

That's the way the world is today - ruled by global capitalism, which is not best known for its compassion.

I feel desperately sorry for the Rover workers hit by this thunderbolt. Barring a miracle formula being found to save the company, thousands of them face the dole. Many of them may never work again. The communities in which they live will end up like other communities whose industries have failed.

Like former shipbuilding towns and mining villages, they will survive as shadows of their former selves. The women will work in low-paid jobs in alternative industries encouraged to the area by grants. The men will walk their dogs or go fishing when they aren't scanning the boards at the Jobcentre. Children will be born to a likely future of drug-taking and burglarly.

It seems trite, given that grim scenario, to lament also the besmirching of the name of Rover, which will now forever be linked to the word "failure".

Many of us grew up with a different perception. Rover used to mean luxury. They were quality cars - big, solid, reliable and rather upmarket, a symbol of success. It was always my ambition to own a car with a Rover badge and grille.

Instead, I worked my way through a range of cars with other names which belonged to inferior members of the Rover family.

First came the Austin A40, more than 30 years ago. Then the Austin Cambridge that developed inoperable chassis rot within a year. After dallying with Ford, Vauxhall, Fiat (what a disaster that one was!) and Nissan, it was back to the family with a couple of Montegos - the Rover that Rover refused to acknowledge, fitting the early ones with an Austin marque and later ones with a badge which said simply "Montego", without any indication of the manufacturing company.

Now, at last, I've achieved my ambition. I have my big, solid car with its Rover badge and grille. It isn't a symbol of success, or particularly upmarket. You can get a lot of second-hand Rover for a manageable amount of money.

Nevertheless, I've been driving it with a tremendous sense of satisfaction. And I'll continue to do so, even though BMW have branded Rover a flop.

But I'd better look after it, because now I might never get a chance to own another.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.