Top Gear should have a Top Ten

It is a well known fact that being behind the wheel of a car can alter the way in which a human being interacts with others. What continues to amaze me is the seeming transformation of many such mortals into a divine being. How else can their air of immortality, or, at the very least, a sense of being king of the road, be explained?

Our once quiet country lane is used morning and evening, and quite a lot in between, as a cut through between main roads. Ten, fifteen, years ago a few cars would trundle past on their way to join the rat race; nowadays there is a constant stream of those in a hurry whose need to use our lane is paramount and the speed at which they wish to do so of great import.

One of my regular morning encounters is with a driver who for years drove a small sporty number. Her motto: never look up, never pull over, never give in, never reduce speed! We could see her coming through the marsh mist, a silver bullet piercing everything before her. A few months ago she switched vehicle and now drives a large beast such as might be used to herd cattle, or chase a quantity of kangaroos (herd? swarm? posse?!) across the outback. Her number plate came with her, as did her motto. But I made her look up last week; I had the audacity not to wait patiently in a gateway but to proceed and force her to wait; the shock on her face was soon replaced with fury, this was perhaps the first time in approximately eight years that anyone had asked her to slow down, and may have added twenty or thirty seconds to her journey.

I'm not sure she's any worse than a young man in a white van (surprise!) who once revved and tail-gated me for nearly two miles down the lane, trying to overtake me in laybys. Eventually I came to a halt in the middle of the lane, apologised to the children for embarrassing them, got out and walked back to the van. Explaining in the simplest of terms that he was driving dangerously, that we had seen assorted vehicles in the river running alongside the lane and that he was to be assured that I wouldn't be fishing him out when he ended up in it; I returned to my car, his foul language and derisory laughter ringing in my ears - and drove at precisely 15 miles an hour for the remaining few hundred yards to our house.

Top Gear should have a Top Ten of idiotic driving habits that make day to day travelling a hazard. I'm just warming up with the above examples; years of circumnavigating the south-west has given me plenty of ideas to contribute. I, of course, drive perfectly at all times!!