Indeed. In the sixties my uncle would sometimes take us to a country pub in his Wolseley, a kind of small gentleman's club on wheels. Occasionally we'd go to Scarborough in it, his daughter and I craning to hear Radio Caroline over Sutton Bank, memorable experiences all. Cars are still sold on such myths but the pre-Warboys road sign era when families picnicked by the motorway just to watch the fun are over and its replacement isn't worth having.
Sadly the masses haven't done with the toff's dream just yet, they've only just caught up with cycling not being a poverty row necessity and you're as likely to be shouted at for being a tramp as a stuck up puff. They missed out on the walnut and leather years and no amount of cubic centimetres under their bonnet is ever going to bring them back. Of course there are tossers on bikes, arrogance and confrontation are only half a step behind asserting one's rights but there are still sufficient numbers of car bound idiots to make them a minority.
