Driving in Maire's blue Mercedes

I've never had much of an affection for cars - I've never really understood the need for glittering sharks - why does the man I see in Sainsburys, buying his copy of the Daily Mail, have to drive a Mitsubishi Outlander?

The first cars I owned were near wrecks, with fins intricately decorated by rust - my Sunbeam Rapier was full of cigarette smoke - I drove it round midnight streets to shebeens in Southampton, to meet up with Annick -

But, recently, I felt that I could understand the emotional ties a driver might feel for his or her car - Anne's friend, Maire, visited us last August - Maire has always loved cars - she has a keen eye for their design - when she was a little girl, her dad used to take her to motor shows -

Maire drove up our drive in a light blue Mercedes - its roof folded back, revealing white leather seats - the dashboard was fit for the cockpit of a Lear Jet - the body of the car shone like a small star -

We drove to Studland, with the roof down - the powerful engine growled softly - the wide tyres swept us along the narrow lanes -

I felt like a gangster, or an exiled politician - I wanted the drive to go on forever -