On two occasions, sainted members of my family have offered me a car for nothing. Both times, I turned them down — and not out of selflessness or for green reasons.
I said no because I knew it would mean me sitting still in a metal box for hundreds more hours every year. If I were the only driver in London, I’d have accepted the free cars in a second. Even if I could have been transported back to 1970s London — when in my memory the streets were largely empty — I’d have said yes.
But driving in London — and in British cities, generally — has now got so popular that it’s become a victim of its own success. If Top Gear or The Grand Tour were really honest, they wouldn’t show Jeremy Clarkson racing a squadron of jets through the California desert.
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