As a child I much enjoyed rides in my Dad's bubble car, and I have spent my entire adult driving career poodling around in modest small cars. Whenever my own Micra is in for repairs, our local mechanic usually lends me an even older edition to run round in. A few weeks back, with the Micra due to be out of use for 3 or 4 days, I'd been promised the usual 'courtesy car'. However, home from work at the end of the day, my husband greeted me with the exciting news that as the Stinky Car (don't ask) had run out of tax, the garage was very kindly lending me an old Alfa Romeo 156.
Oooooooooh! I rushed out of the house with beating heart to look upon it! Once behind the wheel, I was almost immediately transformed into Toad of Toad Hall, beaming with joy as I roared along the little lanes of the High Weald (within the speed limit of course!). On the long straight stretches, I had to vigorously resist the temptation to put my foot down. I wondered how I might find an excuse to take it round the M25 for a little detour. Many a time and oft have I glowered at the owner of a silver Porsche that has hurtled past me most mornings for the past four years. Now I was getting an insight into what it felt like to be behind the wheel of a powerful motor. I began to think alien thoughts like "I wonder how much the Beast can do?" and "Perhaps I'll start watching Top Gear?" and I noticed with a certain guilty satisfaction how other drivers, normally quite contemptuous of my small car, were drawing in to the side of the road as they saw my approaching Big Red One.
Ah well, luckily for my dark side, it was back to the garage by the weekend!
Oooooooooh! I rushed out of the house with beating heart to look upon it! Once behind the wheel, I was almost immediately transformed into Toad of Toad Hall, beaming with joy as I roared along the little lanes of the High Weald (within the speed limit of course!). On the long straight stretches, I had to vigorously resist the temptation to put my foot down. I wondered how I might find an excuse to take it round the M25 for a little detour. Many a time and oft have I glowered at the owner of a silver Porsche that has hurtled past me most mornings for the past four years. Now I was getting an insight into what it felt like to be behind the wheel of a powerful motor. I began to think alien thoughts like "I wonder how much the Beast can do?" and "Perhaps I'll start watching Top Gear?" and I noticed with a certain guilty satisfaction how other drivers, normally quite contemptuous of my small car, were drawing in to the side of the road as they saw my approaching Big Red One.
Ah well, luckily for my dark side, it was back to the garage by the weekend!
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