Then I moved onto BMWs, which adorned my walls as a teenager. I passed my driving test as soon as I turned 17, then had a fairly long term crush on Volkswagen.
I sort of had a Golf when I persuaded my mum she needed that when she needed a new car and then most obligingly got a job where she got a lift every day. Selfishly, when I left home, she kept it though, so many moons later, I got my first car at the age of not-quite-25. Off I toddled to ogle the Volkswagens, looking at probably a 3-4 year old Polo or similar, maybe something a little cheaper. Stopping smoking had provided the funds, all I needed to do was choose which little car was going to be mine.
I came home with a 5 month old 1.0l (973cc to be precise) Vauxhall Corsa, by mistake. Despite the woeful lack of power, it was a great little car. It had a tiny tank, but it still drove from Worcester to Kirkcaldy on one tank. The Golf, which I had been allowed one trip south to source a place to live, got as far as Knutsford going south. I transported a double bed (with foldable mattress and the base on the roof rack) , several Billy bookcases, a wardrobe, a sofa and various other items at different times in the Corsa. It did many pootles rounds Worcester between massive drives north and really did ok. The potential arrival of twins meant a bigger car was needed, as well as the fact that my husband had passed his test (finally! I taught him, you know) meant that he took ownership of the Corsa and I got the most wonderful car in the world, my Volvo. I loved that car. I had a most anxious ferry trip in a storm with my baby strapped up in the cargo area, I was so pleased to see it in one piece after that. Yet, I killed it just over a month later and that was where the whole car thing started to unravel...
My current car is a Vectra. I don't love it. I had an all consuming crush on it when I got it, it's ever such a nice colour and it is like the Corsa with power. Then bits started to creak and groan, and I had two massive skids which were freaky and thankfully caused no more damage than a broken wheel. I dream of owning a BMW.
Except, no, I don't any more. I have sort of fake daydreams where I'm the old me and I loved driving and don't care about things and it's just not real.
So I started to listen to people. Mostly people I have a giant crush on. Like Marcus Brigstocke. It went in. Something weird has happened to me and I'm starting to care about things. Cars aren't that great. We should all ride bikes, get the train, walk. Walk a bit more.
What? Hello? Where did that come from? Next you'll be a vegetarian.
Oh.
So there's me for approximately 30 years: I love cars. Technology is the future, we should endeavour to build better roads, climate change is random and chaotic and unpredictable: we should all drive BMWs. Food chain things, we breed animals to eat them, it's the way of the world, we've got teeth for eating meat; we're built to eat meat, you can't get proper nutrition from vegetables; everyone should eat steak.
A bit of wavering from the age of 31 (30-31 was mostly spent being pregnant and I didn't think anything) and insisting on organic milk, trying to buy local stuff and obsessing about seasons and buying free range everything. Not hard to go anti-plane: although it's fun to take off and land, flying is a painful experience. Horrible waits after tedious check ins with increasingly strict rules, cramped space on the plane, constant hassle to buy stuff, tedious waits for bags, etc etc. It's not fun. If you're going a relatively short distance, get the train. If you're going to Australia, then yes, perhaps the plane is the best option. If you're going to London, it's probably not. 4 x 4s are just wrong, so wrong in so many ways. Not least because they make every other car on the road less safe, so if you want a safe car, you need a 4 x 4 because other people have them and they might hit you. Ban them all. Bring back Ken.
Then wham! I'm a vegetarian. Bam! I think we should all cycle everywhere unless it's too far then we get the train. I am not practicing this at the moment, I still drive, but it makes me feel GUILTY I justify it because I take the children with me most of the time. I produced a coherent argument as to why we should have congestion charging.
Is this growing up? Why now? It's not making me happy, it's making me question everything else I thought I knew to be true. I don't like it.
