beep beep
This is not my car. When I was 17 years old my father bought me a provisional driving licence and gave me £50 towards getting some driving lessons. I shoved the licence in a drawer, palmed the cash and high tailed to Miss Selfridge to procure the loftiest platform boots I could find* and several varieties of iridescent space dust eye-shadow. You see I've never really had much interest in driving. I don't like the responsibility that comes with wielding a chunk of potentially lethal metal about, I'm not convinced my concentration levels are sharp enough to constantly look out for all of the lunatic drivers who seem to populate the roads and I could never see the point in spending immense amounts of cash on everything it takes to run a motor when I can walk, jump on a train or bus and be wherever I want very easily, with the added benefit of being environmentally friendly. People who love driving always go on about the freedom to be out on the open road...yada yada. M...