There was a time when I dabbled in both the two- and four-wheeled world. A life as a motoring journalist with a healthy obsession for anything that could be ridden or driven gave me access to the latest release bikes and cars. But I yearned for the nitty-gritty type journalism only AMCN can offer, and the career change meant leaving the four-wheeled world behind. I struggled with that loss for a few years.
A couple of weeks ago I was given the opportunity to drive a flash new European sports car, and as I slid my arse into the low, body-hugging leather driving seat I clicked straight back into motoring journalist mode – had I missed it that much? I spent 30 minutes inhaling the thick smell of wealth as I familiarised myself with the myriad electronic gadgets, and a further five minutes working out how to get it moving. The beauty of the car was breathtaking, and I can fully appreciate why rich folk love their luxury cars, but that’s where the attraction ended. Sure, the sound from the exhaust stirred something deep inside me, but once I took to the streets I quickly realised how much I have come to hate driving. What’s the point of having a howling multi-cylinder engine and paddle-shift DCT if your average speed is around 40km/h? Adding to my frustration was every bogan in a VN commodore with miss-matching mag wheels wanted to race me. Trying to avoid these rolling dangers only made them think a race was on. When I’m on a bike, idiots like this enter and leave my life over a period of five seconds. And despite the claims of a squillion Newton Horses and electronic variable overhead underhangs, a sportsbike costing a tenth of the price will easily keep a car like that in its mirrors.
I still have a soft spot for the automobile world, but the experience proved I have made the right career and life choices. Of course, I’m preaching to the converted here.
