June 7, 2012 11:19 PM |
Posted By: Stephen Dobie
Rated 4.3 out of 5.0 by 6 members
It's gone 11pm and I've just got in from a late deadline night in the office. By all rights I should be off to bed, ridding my head of car thoughts before it all starts again in, ooh, 10 hours time. Instead, I simply have to tell you about the drive home I had.
In the current evo I talk about bringing my Renault Clio Williams out of a slightly unintended hibernation. Since writing that around two months ago, however, the car's not moved from my house anywhere near as much as I'd like.
And this morning I got my 'reward'. With a trip to and from the office planned to put some miles under its gold 15-inchers, I skipped out my house, turned the key, and... nothing. All the symptoms of a dead battery. With a barren street and no one to jump start me, I called the recovery man. When he turned up, though, the Willy had the last laugh, starting without a stutter and making me look a right dopey idiot. My drive to work, then, was a little agitated, and I was hardly counting down the minutes for my return home.
But at around 10pm, with today's proofs checked and my deadline Big Mac meal polished off, the little Clio started without complaint (this morning's hiccup remains a mystery) and I turned onto my 40-mile commute.
In the dusk light, with the roads empty and more than a little greasy, I had a drive home that could make me forgive the Williams just about anything. Everything that makes this car magic came flooding back to me: how easy its flyweight makes overtaking; the way it effortlessly floats over the rutted 1/4 mile of B671 that upsets many modern cars; its waspish exhaust note as the revs pile on; the lovely way the back end so naturally lightens as you tip the car into a corner. I appreciate I've gone a little Troy Queef, but it was one heck of a drive home. This car is ace.
So there, I've told you. Now I'm going to bed.