It may well appear that a Silver Spirit is parked outside the truck-parts shop on a back alley.
The only way in which looks deceive is that the “alley” is a full-fledged street improbably called Memory Lane. It is now demonstrably possible to go down Memory Lane in one’s Rolls.
(“Do you drive it in the winter?” “My wife does,” said the old man in the hat with the too-broad brim. “Got to use them,” I said. “They can’t be just ornamental.”)