Here In My Car

Driving has lost its charm. In spite of what all those adverts tell you, car ownership is not about speeding through the Tuscan Hills towards some sultry brunette, who positively melts with satisfaction as you glide up the ribbon of her inviting and immaculately manicured driveway.

Nor is it funky. You are not cool if you drive. Everyone drives. It doesn't matter that the adverts suggest that by getting behind the wheel, you are suddenly a moving, shaking twenty first century boy. Putting on a pair of sunglasses out the Jet garage, and slipping behind the wheel of your Honda Ciivic doesn't mean you have entered the Matrix.

Driving is crap. It involves roadworks and crawling queues at ungodly hours of the morning. And no matter how much you try to approach the rush hour with a zenlike attitude - this is an opportunity to learn patience and appreciate the beauty of breathing - it dooes not stop the pounding of your arteries and the throbbing of your temple.

Give up your cars ladies and gentlemen. Take the train. Walk, But for pity's sake, leave the roads to me.