A trusty steed: the Jeep.
Following the electronic tribulations of modern cars last month, this month brought a return to mechanical simplicity – in the form of a blissful, twelve-mile hack along the rough tracks and watercourses of Scotland in a Jeep. This Jeep was the original sort, the ones you see in countless war films, rather than the school-run sort you probably saw this morning. My navigator was its owner, a generous lady who knows her Jeeps and gracefully tolerated my mistimed double-declutches and occasional stalling. Driving old cars is like reading nineteenth-century novels: you must consciously slow down and let them take their course. Rushing them – flicking pages for the action, snatching at gear changes – won’t do. Relax, trust them and they’ll get you there. Jeeps are the Walter Scott of the automotive world, doing for a modern motoring genre, the Sports Utility Vehicle, what Scott did for the historical novel. In...
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