Notes From the Hard Shoulder - James May [22]
But of course, it didn't work, because I knew what was going to happen. It may have made me drive a bit more vigorously, but then, so does The Archers.
Compare this with an experience I once had in Detroit, driving around in the evening in a Cadillac I'd borrowed. The radio was tuned to the local pop station and chuntering away in the background, when suddenly I heard, and immediately turned up, Wang Chung's 'Dance Hall Days'. I had lived constantly with this song for a few months when I was 16, but then it had disappeared. Here it was again, completely unexpected, and the benign ghosts of my own dance hall days filled a car thousands of miles from home and over two decades removed from the original events. The effect was so electrifying that I turned on to an empty freeway and just cruised, not caring where I was, until it was over.
That night a DJ didn't save my life, but he did remaster a crackly old part of it so that I could enjoy it again.
That's why pop is best on the radio, and why pop on the radio is best in the car. The car is like a giant personal stereo, but one over which you should never have control. Instead, it's left to someone in a dark, stuffy booth somewhere to press the buttons that reprise snippets of your life that you would never have been able to recall so clearly without the right soundtrack.
Please vote in our greatest driving song survey. Just write your suggestion on a postcard and send it in, no explanation necessary. I'm thinking about it even now, and I have a feeling that my best driving song will be something I haven't heard for 20 years.
HOW TO DEAL WITH VAN DRIVERS
I'd like to do my bit to promote the spirit of goodwill this Christmas by proposing a new solution to the age-old problem of road rage.
I have to say that one part of me doesn't actually believe in road rage. Recently, I narrated a BBC series on this very subject, and it struck me that no one involved actually suffered from road rage at all. Judging by the testimonies of their wives, children and friends, they simply had rage. They raged at home as well, and probably in pubs and shops too. They were just angry people who were especially unhappy about having to work as a sales rep or drive a diesel.
On the other hand, there are some unbelievably rude bastards out there. I've met several of them recently; not people who drive carelessly, but people who are hellbent on starting a fight for no earthly reason. What to do? One school of thought – and one I would normally subscribe to – says you should smile, wave and drive on. Then again, this is running away, and though a perfectly acceptable tactic when you're nine and you've been caught scrumping apples, it's a bit spineless when you're a grown man with principles and some bloke has just tried to kill you with his van.
I suppose that in this age of justice, no-win-no-fee legal aid and the European Court of Human Rights, the civilised thing to do would be to assemble witnesses, take action and seek recompense through the law. But this would be messy, time-consuming and a burden on a legal system that has more important things to deal with. It would probably also involve some paperwork, which is the work of Satan.
No, the only way to sort this out – and provide an enjoyable spectacle for motorists stuck in traffic jams, to boot – is with a duel. I think society may have lost sight of the benefits of formalised combat as a means of solving petty disputes. Brawling is unacceptable. The law is tiresome, somehow inconclusive, and will leave seething resentment in its wake. Duelling is the answer.
But before you rush off to demand