The Psychology of My Pristine Motor: A Reflection on Human Frailty, BMWs, and Bin Juice.
There’s a moment—right after I’ve signed the paperwork, shaken hands with a man called Gareth who smells faintly of dealership coffee, and slid into the cockpit of my brand new pride and joy—where I genuinely believe I’ve cracked life. The cabin is immaculate. The plastics are unmolested. The carpets are virginal. The smell is so … Read more