Saturday, 7 May 2011

The Antithesis to Top Gear

Excuse the grubbiness on display here.  Interior and exterior car valeting sometimes gets shoved way down the priority list in my busy life.  This belies the fact that I love having a clean car and have a weird non green fantasy about it too.  If I were mega rich (think Spice Girl here)  I would have a incredibly buff but slightly camp boy band lookalike following my own car around in a mini.  Every time I stopped he would make sure that it was in tip top super shiny condition.  I would also never have to put fuel in myself again as he'd do it for me.  Don't let it be said that I didn't warn you that this was bizarre.  The Freudians would have a field day!

But enough, let's go back to making some sense.  Way way back in July last year I wrote Striving for Seventy about my attempts to get top notch fuel consumption out of my Skoda Fabia. Just a month before it's due to go back on its lease I've finally achieved my goal. On the short journey between South Brent and Totnes which must be mostly downhill I hit the jackpot. Let's hope that the trip counter on my new Ford Fiesta Econetique will give me this satisfied feeling of frugality far more often.

And here's another motoring observation that would have Jeremy Clarkson's toes curling.  Aren't the hedgerows pretty at the moment?  Instead of marvelling at the performance of my vehicle whilst going about my business I've been savouring the pretty flowers that are running amok in the lanes.   They've brought joy at a time when I'm dealing with crisis after crisis.  Just watch out weekend motorists though.  The abundance of growth cuts visibility down a treat!


  1. the abundance of growth also smothers the abundance of litter in the hedgerows. Well done on your fuel consumption. Was that coasting downhill out of gear with the wind behind you, ha ha.

  2. I'll never forget dear, old Stirling Moss saying - when talking about heightened senses during Formula One races - that the smells that come through as you are doing about 200 MPH around a tight course, are things like "the smell of newly mown grass, from when a car ahead of you has clipped a verge with it's tyres". Magic, though I too prefer to drive at walking pace past the Cow Parsley.