Cool ride

We were driving up toward Hampstead today when a red Ferrari Enzo pulled in in front of us. For those of you who don't know (and shame on you) the Enzo is an extremely exotic car. Only 499 were made a few years back, costing £500,000 then and about £1,000,000 today. Moreover, they weren't even up for sale. Only dedicated Ferrari customers, e.g. Eric Clapton, were invited to buy one. It is the fastest, most dramatic looking Ferrari ever. So, what was MBH's reaction? "Not very practical in London, is it"? "Of course not, dear." I replied. Obviously, she was right. But that's not the point. Is it?

A car should not be thought of in terms of practicality. For a man, and many women, it is a means of portraying an image. A black Mercedes S500 says: I am rich and important. A Fiat 500 says: I am young and trendy. A Porsche 911 says: I am sporty and successful. Or does it?

Now here's the problem with image-motoring. It rarely fools anyone. If you are truly important, you don't need an S500 to show for it. You'd drive a Fiat Panda. The age limit for Fiat 500 owners is 29 and, if you crawl out of your 911 with your beer-belly hanging over your belt and your comb-over blowing in the wind, you are not likely to be mistaken for Leonardo Di Caprio, are you?

So, the question is, what is the car for the cynical age? First of all, let's rule out the Prius, the most image-conscious car ever. Any car that sells on the combined traits of being ecological and ugly is just too much. I would go for MGFs T&N choice of the Fiat Box. It's not called a Box, it simply is one. A box on wheels that's really good at moving people and stuff from one place to the next. I would, if only MGF N didn't say they chose it because it was the most hideous car around. That's image-motoring in much the same way. A Ford Focus (which I must disclose we own) is merely trying to say one is too sensible to be caught up in image-motoring. Only a bit too loudly.

My conclusion is: there is no escape. Image-motoring is so engrained in our culture, it cannot be avoided. There is simply no car that doesn't say something about its owner. The only way out is to go all the way and buy a Cadillac Escalade - a 4x4 that's even bigger and brasher than a Range Rover but without the pretence of class or sophistication - just like Tony Soprano. At least no one will be able to accuse you of motor-hypocrisy. Au revoir then, I am on my way to the Cadillac showroom!

PS 310km down, 690km to go.