He did not issue any instructions, or indeed restrictions, with the car, but, as I headed for the motorway and London, I knew I was abusing his trust The journey was a nightmare. Losing my car through gross negligence should have been a turning point, but it wasn't. I belonged to the exclusive club of the driver.Members speak of carburettors and route-planning with authority They go where they choose to My father lent me his car one weekend when he was away. It did not detract from the glorious knowledge that I could still drive. I moved on to my own car, an ageing yellow Fiat sports car, bought for pounds 200 by my generous and long-suffering mother for my 18th birthday This car was heaven. I almost gave up smoking to support its petrol habit, and I loved it as much as I had loved my Shetland pony But no one told me that cars need oil and water.

I thought that giving it so much petrol was hugely caring, and was smug about the fact that my petrol gauge was always way above the reserve.Six months passed, the amount of time I now realise it takes to destroy a decent car, and the Fiat exploded on the B1134, never to go again. The 2CV is remarkable in many ways, but it was outstanding in its ability to travel for hundreds of miles on no petrol. It collapsed, I think coincidentally, after I had been using it for six months. Any extra cash went on pink plastic stilettos, blue nail polish and records Awful records.