This time, I left the hiring until a few days before the trip. As a result the cheapest choice was just one: a Ford Falcon. Naturally, ticked the box thinking I would be hiring an ordinary Falcon (Sorry Holden and Ford supporters) much like my Dad’s old car.
So far, so good, I arrived and picked up the car. At first, I couldn’t find the car and when I did find the car, I was taken aback. I had hired a muscle car – a Ford Falcon XR6 complete with racing dash, coloured black with a spoiler. It may have all the other accoutrements but I wasn’t really sure.
For the average middle-aged man, this would be a godsend, a chance of glory driving a young man’s car. My confession is that I have never been at that stage of life where I need to impress someone by the car I drive. Most of the cars I have driven have fitted into the above category : small, economical and unobtrusive. But certainly not this one.
What I didn’t expect was the reaction from the other drivers on the road when they saw me in this beast.
The first and most glaring was that they expected me to not to keep to the speed limit.
As a result, no-one was really game to overtake me. Again for a middle-aged man this should engender a feeling of strong superiority. But not me.
The second was their reaction to any lane change that might be construed as slightly disagreeable. As I said to my passengers : Was that person waving at me because I might have done something wrong? Or not?