I think when you start recalling disasters of one sort or another, they begin to assume massive proportions which really aren't as bad as they seem. However, when I started writing a little document about my adventures with cars, I realised that either I have total recall or I just have bad karma.

For instance, I once drove into town to check out the new Citroën dealership. Half a mile from the dealer, the car dumped its power steering fluid all over the road. I wrestled mightily with the recalcitrant vehicle and arrived at the dealership, only to find that it didn't open for another week. So I had to drive 10 miles back and developed very muscular forearms.

On another occasion, my ma in law was getting married for the second time, and that morning I thought I ought to treat our bright yellow car to a car wash. One of the door mirrors was removed by a rotating brush and I had to leap out to get it back before it was crushed. I also had to hide my trouser bottoms in the church.

Then there was our brand new car which was hit up the back by a former Mumbai bullock cart driver. And the car which caught fire while a friend was underneath fixing the engine mounts.

There's loads more, but I just shrug it off these days. Especially when I heard my mate's stories about his horsebox full of scaffolding bursting a tyre, his E-type falling off a trailer, his purchase of a large unstartable Renault van from a transgender couple, etc etc. Life's like that, so get used to it.