Fang and I

Ok, with apologies to maestros of the mop, there is something a tad hairdresserish about this, probably combined with a fair dollop of male menopause, but it's time you were introduced to Fang.

"L" for large.

The back-story. I used to drive alfa romeos but when the last one had done 140,000 miles (which is actually taking liberties with an alfa) I decided I needed something that was more sensible for the kind of use I have for a car. I acquired a 1.6 diesel family saloon that is very economical over the miles I do, has automatic everything (apart from gearbox), cruise control, blue tooth, digital radio, refrigerated glove box, reversing warnings and so on, and is dull as ditchwater to drive. Don't get me wrong, it does everything it should and does it well - it's just boring.

So last Autumn I bought my little MX5. She is a very early mk1 so is knocking on a bit but really well looked after. Of course, Autumn is a daft time to by a soft top so she's hardly been out of the garage in 6 months but this afternoon the sun shone. Having bought the vacuum cleaner mentioned recently, carted it home in said family saloon, Fang was allowed into the open air.

Of course, she is called Fang in the same way as you might name a Chihuahua "Titan". So far as most 4X4 drivers are concerned, a Mk1 MX5 is about the same same size as half a pair of rollerskates but ..... an open winding country road, top down, bright red paintwork and Dylan Thomas black alloys, the gauges all telling me the right thing and an exhaust note tuned by Wagner.

I did (reluctantly) stop to take the odd photo. I can feel the disdain of northern blippers. In mitigation, it does give me a reason to wear a tweed cap.