Driven to distraction

The prospect of swapping arms and armour for automobiles at auction leaves Roger Field feeling rather daunted. Meanwhile, a celebrity sale attracts fans and bargain hunters alike

- Roger Field

LIKE MOST Luddites, I had no idea that the air intake on a 2012 BMW 320d (diesel) series is low on the engine; that is until I drove my beloved 320 through a shallow ford and deep-sixed the engine so comprehensively that it is now an insurance write-off. With a wife, dog and luggage on board, and an RAC recovery man adamant that self-inflicted drownings do not qualify for free tows home, I hired a car. That short but brutal experience reminded me just how much I dislike modern, electronically over-gizmo'd, cars. My almost brand-new hireling soon let me know that, while I might hold the steering wheel, it wanted to control my driving. The 'nanny' electronic hand-brake didn't release until I had clicked in my seat belt. The ever-more irritating sat-nav lady kept ordering me back towards home when I drove it without entering a new destination. A sympathetic hire-car chap later told me that it took at least three genuinely computer-savvy steps – which counts me out – to force the sat-nav to fermer la bouche. Next up, whenever I crossed a lane at an oblique angle 'driver assist' evidently concluded that I must be falling asleep and briefly (thank God) tried to wrestle me back into the 'right' lane. This is the stuff of near heart failure, as I instinctively reacted each time against the unexpected wheel twitch that felt, to me at least, like a blowout. I've driven through a motorway blowout: it's scary.