Yup, cars. A-40s and a fleet of Austin Cam-bridge and Morris Oxford cars that belong to the era when you said "motor down" instead of "drive down", and the only cars that Jaffna now has.

The reason for this odd sight: These were the only vehicles spared by the militants who mushroomed in Sri Lanka's northern peninsula in the tumultuous 1980s. The hapless people who had newer cars had to turn them in to one militant group or another, all for the cause, but obviously, the stately old Austins and Morrises were considered uncool by the "boys" and thus escaped.

But don't imagine -- not even for a moment -- that these vehicles are the usual prima donna old cars pampered by fond millionaire owners. Indeed, theymust work extremely hard to earn a living for themselves and for their owners, nearly all of whom are taxi drivers. It's an extremely hard life, and every morning, the fleet has to assemble under the harsh, blazing sun at the taxi rank opposite Jaffna Hospital to embark on the daily hunt for fares.

Standing there, they look like they could do with a good lick of paint and polish. A quick examination inside reveals that their wooden and chrome dashboards are still intact and carry the sophistication that moulded plastic can never aspire to. But most important of all, these cars still run, thanks as much to the ingenuity of Jaffna man as to the solidity of the old British car.

Sacrilegious it may sound, but through the years that Jaffna had no petrol, these cars were mercilessly subjected to a steady diet of kerosene. Each time a car had to be started, the driver would dive under the bonnet and tease the carburetor with just a drop of exorbitantly priced smuggled petrol.

Fooled, the car would spring tolife and then resignedly accept the kerosene that rushed in just seconds later. Some continue to claim after-shave worked just as well but don't try either method on your Santro, please. Petrol is available in Jaffna now, but given the fact that it sells at a whopping 77 Sri Lankan rupees a litre, so the taxi drivers still prefer to do it the old timetested way.

But wonder of wonders, despite the steady assault on their systems, the cars are still chugging around, their 1200/1500 cc engines perhaps a little slow picking up, but extremely smooth thereafter. And if you are thinking spare parts -- even gear wheels -- those are turned out by local lathe shops, a practice common enough in India but unheard of in the rest of Sri Lanka.

A few months ago, some adventurous traders took up a batch of 80 freshly imported reconditioned Japanese cars by sea from Colombo to see whether there were any takers. I saw just one of that particular lot, parked at the market next to a building that had seen more than a coupleof shells in its day. The car's fresh metallic paint was brightly gleaming in the sun, which only made it look unreal, about as unreal as prospects for peace in the region.