Could I please have a BMW on toast, please? Plain, no butter, diesel and with a roaring engine?
Who was I kidding when I said that I didn’t really want a sports car? Well… I must say that when I first got into that little mini creature, it was all but complain, complain, complain…funny teeny weeny rear-view mirror, where on earth is the radio button? How do you move your side mirrors? And the lights? How the hell do you turn on the lights? and worst of all… I thought there was some kind of magic trick that had to be performed in order to put the handbrake into resting position. My friend, bloody strong men,(but who wants a wimp of a friend, right?), yes, my friend had to be a man… happens to be a strong guy so he had pulled the handbrake so far back that I just couldn’t pull it down…when I eventually did manage to do that what really scared me was the powerful bite the car as I had to reverse to unpark. What if instead of going backwards I went forwards? I’d crash the car even before I got to drive the bloody thing!
I finally sorted out the stuff which I now consider minor and went for a test drive… not fast, no: slow, slow, slow… Having been used to having my gears on my right hand and suddenly having them on my left hand and driving on the other side of the road (the left side) didn’t help much to getting to know the car on funny potholed roads.
After a while, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I’ve changed my mind about little sporty BMWs and now I’ve decided I want one….can you imagine if I drove an XRK? A jaguar? Gosh…. and drive it in Valencia? Nice paved roads? No… there I would speed speed speed… so maybe, just to make sure I eventually get to see my future grandchildren I should just have a Jaguar XKR or that little BMW whatever and drive it in Gozo.