May on Motors
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Publish Year note: First published in 2006
Best known as the third presenter in the unholy trinity that is Clarkson, Hammond and May on Top Gear, James May has lived, breathed and dreamt about cars his entire life.
There is something about cars that stirs up intense feelings in people - how it makes them look to the outside world, how it makes them feel about themselves, how it looks to their girlfriends or their mates, or their neighbours. These feelings are humorously described in May on Motors, as James takes us on the road and looks at the cars that have shaped him, his world and the ordinary people of Britain.
In May on Motors, James has brought together his most controversial and amusing pieces to make a brilliant collection that will amuse and inspire all car enthusiasts.
cemented) as a sort of commemoration of his homecoming. I should have bought him one, I suppose, but he already had a real Ford Cortina. The moment I woke up and found it on the pillow was, I think, the moment I realised that I was deeply interested in cars. Then again, every small boy I’ve ever met, and even quite a few girls, like playing with toy cars, so that supposedly seminal, die-cast revelation is hardly a good excuse for making a living from writing about them. In fact, I’m absolutely
Moon. This is hardly encouraging. Did you see what he did to his drum kit? And his hotel room? And himself, for that matter. Why would I want the ex royal wedding Range Rover? The Royal Family didn’t think it was that significant, otherwise it wouldn’t be rotting away in a barn. The dealer ads in classic car magazines are full of this sort of thing. A Bentley or similar is advertised as being ‘ex Greta Garbo’ or whatever. If it still had Greta Garbo in it, or even just smelled of her, then I
their hands clean whilst on the move.’ Fortunately, I have the perfect antidote to all this nonsense. Every time you come across one of these stories, mentally remove the pivotal phrase ‘according to new research’ and substitute ‘according to some desperate marketing men in a pub’. What Mr Dullard (not his real name) really means is, ‘We know women buy Damp Dabs, and we’d really like men to start buying them as well. But we’re trying to avoid paying for a proper advert.’ Unfortunately, however,
cabinet with a ‘so – what you gonna do about it then, eh?’ like a tiresome drunk. But that’s only the start. A man called Fred has rung me from Holland. He’s the chap who’s bought my old Jaguar XJ-6 Coupé, sold to create a garage space for the forthcoming Porsche Boxster, which must surely arrive any day. He’s arranged to fly over on Saturday and meet me at home. Within ten minutes of him texting me to confirm that he’d bought a plane ticket, Top Gear TV rang to tell me I was off to the South
motoring, it’s what you have to do when you’re not motoring. Parking is to driving what a speed hump is to Silverstone. So the British Parking Association should be commended on being able to sustain a magazine at all. Parking may seem like a terrifyingly narrow topic for a journal, but the breadth of the organisation’s expertise is remarkable. By way of illustration, and in the style of Have I Got News For You, I have reproduced here without permission some excerpts from the June issue with the