Some years ago
one Sunday afternoon, I was coming back from a day out at the seaside with the kids. I stopped at a T-junction, all was clear except for a small black car quite a way off. I pulled out of a side-road and picked up speed. Not particularly much speed because my beat-up old Ford Escort's engine struggled to draw 30 horse-power. Not equine horses either. More like sea-horses. 0-60 was measured as a probability rather than in seconds. And on a hill, it was embarrassing. Anything steeper than a 1 in 6 and it was crawl in 1st gear and getting stuck behind a coach or a lorry on a hill was seen as a blessing. Mrs Sandettie suggested we get a big paper bag to put over the car to hide our shame.

Anyway, I noticed the small black car approaching quite quickly and it proceeded to drive right up my backend trying to overtake. Looking in the mirror I could see it was a Z4 roadster with the roof down, driven by a John Pertwee look-a-like with some dolly-bird in a passenger seat. As soon as the road was clear, he went for it roaring past looking rather pleased with himself. All he needed was a croissant and a glass of orange juice to complete the image.

He got maybe a 30-yard lead before steam began pouring from the front which very quickly developed into a massive cloud and he disappeared from view. I braked rather sharpish, not knowing how far down the road he was and whether he had stopped. I then saw some hazards and pulled out to drive past slower than necessary trying not to appear smug. However, my kids didn't care and had a bloody good laugh.

I pulled in front and looked in the mirror to see the girl getting out looking somewhat peeved, slamming the car door and storming off.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Mon 7 Feb 2011, 16:54, Reply)