Winter fun

Just a quick one to reassure WhiteBoyBob that there are still plenty of idiots on the North american continent - so he needn't worry about missing us too much...

Not Canada but across the border in New England - over the burbling sound of Mopar V8 the (hopefully) drunken bystanders sound just like Peter Griffin.

Ride the wild cliche

Another day another soft news story that is a piece of shit 'research' commissioned by some interested party, boiled down to 3 exciting headlines that are complete guff.

"The chances of crashing your car could increase if you drive in Devon and Cornwall or decrease if you are in Scotland, according to a new survey" trumpets the Beeb, quoting a poll, carried out for moneysupermarket.com.

"And the West Midlands appears to be the hotspot for motorway accidents." Good grief! You mean the area of the country riddled with motorways has more motorway accidents than Cornwall (which has no motorways), has the world gone mad?

It's hardly as pervasively evil as a pharmaceutical company pushing skewed data from fudged studies as news to support their interests, just lazy journalism cunts.

We live in an age of crass reportage about non-news where not only can someone make the following moronic statement, but another idiot will reproduce it as news.

Richard Mason from moneysupermarket.com, said: "Danger clearly lurks close to home for many drivers, with collisions most likely to happen in their neighbourhood and places they visit regularly."

Gurgle

Perhaps there is something in the air, it seems many friends and aquaintances have succumbed to those most primordial of urges and brought forth a new life into this world. Or at least done the hard work of delivering half the DNA before sloping off to the pub to toast a job well done whilst the little lady gets on with growing the fella and pushing it out when the time comes.

It's a big undertaking and no mistake taking on the responsibility of adding to the family unit. And let's not beat around the bush (so to speak) it can be an expensive thing too, but oh so rewarding, growing and learning together.

Close friends may have picked up the clues - the wry smile when talking about a possible new arrival, preparations for a space for it to live and be secure in. So it's with enormous satisfaction that I can announce a new addition to the driverchris family.

I know everybody thinks that theirs is the most beautiful, but c'mon, be fair...

Scuderia flashback

Due to roll out onto your screens soon, this spot celebrates sixty years of collaboration between Shell and Ferrari. Whilst it's rather gorgeously executed the average petrolhead's thought process will definitely include the following reflections:

• This ad really, really reminds me of that Honda ad, except just featuring cars.

• Goddammit racecars used to be so cool, I bet it was brilliant watching them racing, dicing and overtaking.
  
  
• Man they sounded good too.
  
  
• What the fuck has happened to Formula One?

More guerilla motoring

Today WhiteBoyBob and I had a small libation after work as is sometimes our wont. Rather annoyingly I didn't have the right change to feed the parking ticket machine, and I resent putting a pound into the damn thing when all it needs is 50p.

Luckily as sometimes happens a fellow motorist saw me making towards the ticket machine with a thrusting, manly stride and offered up her own ticket - plenty of valid time paid for on it, shame to waste it, you get the picture.

I thanked her effusively, popped it onto the dash and skipped off to the boozer with a renewed optimism for my fellow driver.

As we made for the bar I reflected to my compadre WBB, my Sancho Panza if you will, that I had not studied the proffered ticket, and that I had a centre console full of very similar items that had expired over the past few weeks.

So the next time I see an offensive, boorish or selfish driver making for the ticket machine having offended my finely tuned sense of motoring propriety, I shall bound up with a cheery grin and ask if they would like to use my ticket. Really it's no problem.

Swapping paint

When I started watching endurance racing it was a very different beast. After 22 gruelling hours at La Sarthe you had seen which drivers and teams had what it takes to campaign through the night. Back then a team might spend an hour making repairs in the pits and still come out in the running.

The last couple of hours was a time to wind down, take stock and nurse your way to the finish, both as a competitor and spectator. Sure you'd get last lap dramas like the puncture in '99 that gifted Toyota's win to BMW – but the dominance of Audi really turned them into 12 and 24 hour sprint races.

Even so you rarely get to see a last lap battle as hard as this for GT class honours at the Sebring 12 hours from the weekend. The addition of a fireworks display in the background (natch – it's endurance racing) means this'll be a shoe-in for a PS3 version surely?

Cashpoint cripple

It may have been the tortuous customisation of the registration to produce a personalised number plate of dubious quality. It could have been the inexpertly executed bodykit along with the awful graphics advertising Milton Keynes premier table dancing club...

But what really endeared him was when he parked up in the disabled space and skipped out of his motah like a startled gazelle.

Please fire up the company printer - and run some of these out with my compliments to keep in your glovebox.

(click for bigness)

Ringmaster

it's possibly some form of blog faux pas, having two consecutive YouTube posts. I'm sure there's a freelance hack putting together a Sunday supplement piece as we speak 1,500 words on "Blogging do's and don'ts" to slip in between the housing market trends and where to source a rare vegetable that will propel you to the top of the dinner party leagues.

Anyhoo, it's here 'cause it made I laugh, and has nothing to do with making my own efforts look slightly more heroic in comparison.

Spin City

Mad props to Jools for inviting me to come out and play in his racecar. A cold March morning found us circulating the Silverstone International Club Circuit - some with more skill than others...

Just as I was dusting down my paperback copy of "The Big Book of Racing Excuses" (bought from a lovely Mr E. Irvine at an Ulster car boot sale) and thumbing a well worn page about oil on the line Jools took a quick shufty at the footage and pronounced it a bad idea to change gear in the middle of a corner. Arse.

The Porsche that bore down on me at an alarming rate was an uber expensive GT3 natch, two driver's seats that were gripped a wee bit harder that morning then.

from the vault

Bugatti Veyrong

In the world of cars being first is everything. That's why there's an industry in being able to supply the must-have car du jour. Hard to believe but for a while there was a healthy premium being charged for supplying a new Beetle. I know, a new Beetle.

And what is true in the world of cars is truer still for supercars. There will always be a queue of footballers, rappers and other assorted dimwits willing to pay 30% over list to be the first to roll up at Shaggers Nightclub in the new Lamborgarri Fasterossa.

So one can only speculate at the favours, threats and billfolds that are exchanged to secure a 'first' in the rarefied world of the hypercar.

Ladies and gents, the first Bugatti Veyron to get binned. Smacked up having aquaplaned on some standing water - is there a more boring and tedious accident to be had? I hope it was worth it.

Last one out...

...please close the doors

That's a spicy Balti, more!