I felt lonely the other day. I was driving along a highway at exactly the speed limit (55mph). I was the only vehicle, amongst hundreds, driving at that speed. Every other truck, pick-up, family saloon, RV, sports car, motorbike, old fart and pimply youth snarled up to my rear bumper and then, after snapping and growling for a while, revved past me and disappeared into the distance.

Occasionally they gave me the finger, but usually there was just this impatient, grimacing face in the rear view mirror.

Now if you want to break the law, that's up to you. And I have been known to (accidentally of course) drift a little over the speed limit on occasion, when driving our old yellow Monza.

But there's no reason to get mad at me because I simply can't get up this hill at 80mph. Funnily enough I have exactly the same right to my 10ft of tarmac as you, O citizen of the Land of the Free.

So quit sitting on my ass when even a sheet of paper wouldn't fit between me and the double yellow lines, drumming your stupid fingers, making inane faces and creating all those frown lines. After all, the moment you put your foot down you are going to be a fucking criminal! I'm actually doing you a favour, and who knows when a cop will be coming around the corner?

It is at moments like this when I am glad that we have a rack of bicycles projecting from the back of our van, and that should you rear end me your shiny tin toy would be nastily scratched.

Oh, and by the way, those driver of little red sports cars that roar past us in a contemptuous cloud of exhaust fumes ought to know that what we are shouting isn't "Super car!" but "Small penis!"

And when I good-naturedly pull over to the right side of the road to let you all past to continue your law-breaking careers, do you bother to thank me? Do you my ass! About one driver in 100 raises a limp hand in acknowledgment, ta very much. Does this make we want to do it again? Of course not.

This makes me so mad I could put my foot down and burn rubber!