On your mileage varying
Sad but true. I now drive like an old man.
With petrol changing hands at five quid a gallon, it came as a huge surprise to me that I could actually save genuine cash money by driving to work in the All-New Silver Hornet a little bit slower than I used to.
In fact, I've been driving to work a lot slower.
No. Slower than that.
Average speed between Weymouth (jewel of the south coast) and Reading (shit hole): 90mph
Average fuel consumption: 30 miles per gallon
Average reaction to other drivers: "GET OUT OF MY WAY YOU TOSSERRRRS! BURN! BURN BURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN!"
Average speed between Weymouth (sun-kissed seaside utopia) and Reading (shit hole): 55 mph
Average fuel consumption: 52 miles per gallon
Average reaction to other drivers: Watching with unconcealed amusement as the driver in your rear view mirror mouths the words "GET OUT OF MY WAY YOU TOSSERRRRS! BURN! BURN BURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN!" as you tootle away in front of him like you've just become the proud owner of a pipe and matching slippers.
To put this in perspective, that's about five hundred quid a year in savings. Which will, ironically, go some way to paying off the extra tax I'll have to pay for driving a so-called gas-guzzling car. No, I don't get it, either.
Of course, this all turns to shit once you reach Reading (shit hole). The whole concept of what our Septic friends call "hypermiling" turns to shit as the entire town is turned over to that one great enemy of fuel economy: traffic lights.
The whole idea is to get from base to destination without having to stop and start every thirty seconds at the hands of some cretin with a road traffic degree who thinks that vehicles are useful only when piled up at traffic lights. Or roundabouts with traffic lights. Or bus lanes with traffic lights.
I like to think I'm a pretty relaxed chap behind the wheel these days, but:
"GO GREEN YOU TOSSERS! GREEN! GREEEEEEEEEEN!"
At the risk of encouraging anti-social behaviour, I would encourage each and every one of you to converge on Reading Civic Centre and deposit a rich, brown turd through the letterbox of the Traffic and Streets Department. It's the only language these curs understand.