08 Nov 04
The first three humps are small enough to allow an ambulance to pass unhindered, but the Smart's narrow track means that each must be negotiated with a sickening suspension thud. Then the next four are proper up-down rollers, which jolt my spine and send a judder through the whole of the cabin. I'm worried, not only about my back, but about the car too. This daily assault must be taking its toll on the shock absorbers.
For the sake of comparison, I recently borrowed a large SUV, of the type despised by London's eco do-gooders. It was wide enough not to be concerned with the first three bumps and it monstered the rollers as a bear might swot a fly. I just sat unperturbed in the cabin and enjoyed my elevated view. And when I arrived at the supermarket, I had no trouble parking in one of the allotted spaces.
There are times therefore, when I do feel somewhat ill-disposed towards my choice of chariot but there are many more times when I'm glad that I chose something out of the ordinary. I live alone and I'd feel silly in an SUV, just as I'd feel a bit of a plonker if my everyday car was a Ferrari.
