NT is trialling a No Speed Limited section on the Stuart Highway, north of Alice Springs, for a period of one year. Good on the NT government. When I worked for Shell, Alice Springs was my base and I remember this piece of highway well. The tyranny of distance experienced by people who live in the Alice and any other satellite town where people need to drive for hours makes this trial a winner in my books. I remember marvelling at the mileage clocked up by the people I worked with. For them it was nothing to go to Adelaide for the weekend, which is a 3,000-km trip. I get all excited when I go to Wakefield and manage over 1,000kms in one month. The average person from Alice does this by Wednesday, as the saying goes. Needless to say, we will have the usual panic merchants making predictions of mass mayhem and thousands of deaths before the year is out. I just hope that this trial is not carte blanche for idiots wanting a drag race track. The NT police have a fairly short fuse when it comes to morons. Just because you are really, truly brilliant on Xbox sitting on your lounge with a toy steering wheel in your hand does not mean you know what to do when you run into trouble in a real car.

I remember one trip traveling to Yuendumu, late afternoon, brilliant clear day with the sun shining on the red sand and sky so blue it looked photo-shopped. I spotted a black kite flying very low, heading straight for the front windscreen of my car. He looked so majestic and beautiful. I am a city dweller, so common sense when driving in the country is not second nature to me. The kite was so low I could see his claws. It never occurred to me to slow down. Thankfully the bird had more sense than I did and just before bird met windscreen, he gracefully glided on the slipstream and left me in awe of his beauty and flying skills. When I relayed the story to the road train drivers back in Alice they pointed out to me that if I had hit him, the force would have driven both me and the bird into the back seat of my rental car. I stress yet again that the bird had more brains than I did. I just imagined the kite’s conversation at the next lizard lunch on the side of the road: “You should have seen this dumb blonde, eye big as plates, as I glided over her car.”

Reading the weekend Financial Review, I nearly choked on my coffee. Extremely well-hidden was a rehash of Bloomberg article headlined “Ferraris race off lot.” Hagerty, a US-based classical car price database, was reporting that rare Ferraris surged by 62% in 2013. Apparently a dilapidated 1956 Gullwing estimated as being worth $1.2 million fetched $1.9 million. The new owner will need another $500K to make it roadworthy.

After a quick search on the Hagerty website, I found that a Tatra 603 circa 1960, the favoured official car of the old communist plutocrats will now fetch between $70,000 and $80,000. My now very much ex-boyfriend restored one of these ages ago. When the time came to have it registered and get new number plates, the guys at the RTA office proved they had a sense of humour. As he was waiting for the number plates to be allocated to him (this was back in the early 1980s, before IT truly hit its stride), he realised that it was taking an extraordinarily long time. He walked up to the counter and enquired what was taking so long.  The supervisor could not help him, but promised that the people involved were not out the back having a smoko. Everything became clear when two very dust-covered customer service guys emerged from what must have been the bottom of the stock pile of available number plates, and proudly handed my ex this number plate in the old yellow background and black alphanumeric: “KGB 009”.

So, on the occasional slow day when the Financial Review runs out of superannuation, corporate governance and the usual doom and gloom and everything else to do with our economy, they may actually print the occasional story about what great investments classical cars truly are. This does not, however, mean that the Toyota Kluger my neighbour purchased all those years ago washed once in 2009, will be worth millions in 50 years’ time. But then again, what do I know?

My own faulty really. I told my friends about ordering the new CLA45 AMG and the subsequent “waiting period of 12 months.” Needless to say, they are all milking it for what it’s worth. Promises and threats of sending me emails with a daily countdown became reality, so the delete button is now my most trusted ally.

One friend who shares my birth place pointed out that in the old Eastern Block when it was under the Communist regime, you had to bribe officials to only have to wait seven years for your new car. We are not talking about custom- made cars here; this is how long it took for delivery of a new Trabant or Skoda Octavia, and this is before Skoda was brought out by VW. We are talking about cars that would fall apart before they left the factory. Spare parts had the value of saffron spice and were just as readily available. My Teutonic grandfather’s favourite joke went like this: Mr Novak saves the required 50% deposit for his Trabant, plus supplies the required under- the-table bribe to assorted communist party officials to secure his place in the queue. The following month he receives an official letter advising him of the date he can collect his new car, say 28th February, seven years in the future. In panic, he runs to the official’s home to ask if he can delay the pick-up by a day. The official looks at him sternly and reminds him of the trouble it took to secure this date and asks what is so important that he cannot pick up his new car on the allocated day? Mr Novak nervously replies that he cannot be available on the 28^th February seven years in the future because the plumber is booked on the same day.

Did I mention that you did not even get to select the colour of your new car and the only extra was a radio that was usually stuck on the government propaganda station? Think George Orwell’s 1984.

For me this whole thing is not exactly any heartache. I have a beautiful car anyway, so about 307 days until the new one arrives is not going to kill me. Plus, my plumber is available whenever I need him. However, I see that the delete button on my keyboard may wear out before long.

Mezzie and I were introduced on 22^nd December last year. She is a gorgeous little MX 5 and I am in love. Ok, Ok, I am contradicting myself here. I know that I said that all cars are Him rather than Her. However executive decision made and Mezzie is a Her and most importantly she has ABS brakes. After number of sessions with Boz it become very obvious that my driving is well and truly deteriorated so much with all the gadgets available on the new cars that I am simply unable to drive on the race track without locking up brakes and just between you and I, I think Bozman was getting tired of ending up on the auxiliary roads of Wakefield facing the wrong way.  Just something about that pained expression on his face had given the game away.

I was the first paying punter to take Mezzie around Wakefield; the steering wheel was so new I ended up with palm of my hands almost black. The four point seat belts are easy to adjust. After the first session Bozman even figured out how to open the electric windows, which came in very handy in the 38 degree heat. Initially blaming the fuse, after our first session he asked me to flick a little “Magical” switch on the right had side of the dashboard and miracle of miracles, the windows worked. Sorry Boz had to put that one in. You can’t always be perfect.

I hope to drive Mezzie next time I am at Wakefield; somehow I don’t like my chances of ever being allowed to take Kermit out on the track. That is OK, I love Mezzie and am happy with that.

Started to look around for a new car. I had my E250 for over 3 years and its time for a change. This car will be hard to trade in. Discounting my SLK this had been a car that I simply loved. Two door, but four seats, so enough space to carry oversized handbag, brief case heavy enough to be compared to medium sized house plus two rear seats that fold down to carry my pushbike to Centennial Park because I am just too much of  coward to cycle on the roads, or is that too lazy? I can never make up my mind what is the truer statement. One of the serious contenders was a Porsche Cayman, took one for a spin and thought that the decision was made there and then. It is truly a fabulous car. The only thing that set a niggling doubt in my mind, it is a two seater with very little room. I know its mid-engine and there is space in the front and back, but memories of my SLK kept flooding back. Don’t get me wrong my SLK was brilliant, but I remembered in winter having to do three runs to the dry cleaners to pick up my dry cleaning. Also memories of a picnic organised amongst friends had people making fun of me for months as all I could carry was a small picnic basket and half a dozen bottles of Moet did not win me very many brownie points. The Moet shut them up, but not long enough. Yes there are four seater Porsche’s and they are fabulous, but out of my price range new and second hand worries me that I could be taking on somebody’s else’s  problems. One of my neighbours has a bright yellow 911T Porsche from the 1980’s and I lost count the amount of times I have seen her broken down on the side of the road. If you don’t look after these cars and maintain them they just turn into a bottomless money pit. So, what else is there? Back to Macintosh just as the new CLA45 AMG become available.  So, here I am eating humble pie, big time. There is a 12 months waiting list, but I am ok with that. I had to wait for all of my Mercs, so no big deal. Just one more thing, having learned the lesson with my E250 the new car is white. Don’t’ get me wrong I am under no illusion that white is easy to keep clean. It’s just that despite my car always being garaged the black is impossible to keep clean. It’s a good thing I love the coffee at Awash.

Thursday 9^th. According to SMH, female driver nearly died after her Audi Q3 seized up and her smart key locked her in searing heat of 41 degrees. The journalist David McCowen reported that the driver could not open the windows or doors and was finally rescued after attracting attention of passers-by. I do feel sorry for the driver, however the comments were something else again. There were calls for the entire smart key technology to be scrapped, issuing drivers with emergency hammers like the ones Emergency services have and one bright spark suggesting that all drivers with the smart key option should leave a spare key in the car. In my car that would totally defeat the purpose as when MB detects the key inside of the vehicle it simply will not lock. Even dropping the key in the boot when unloading groceries will not allow the driver to close the boot. I am unsure if Audi has the same function, but I am sure that most manufacturers allowed for that type of emergency.

Speaking to other people in our office those driving Fords and other makes of cars that have the keyless option we all know how to override and switch to manual mode. So why is this story getting everybody hot under the collar? The other point is the suggestions of carrying a brick or a crowbar to break the windows. Given the size of the average car cabin and the swing you would need to exert enough power to break the new windows, I’ll say good luck. Watching the hotheads at Wakefield and I have seen what happens to windscreens when idiots see the red mist and end up upside down. Brick or a hammer from a distance of 1-2 feet, you have no hope!

Friday 27^th December 2013, SMH story. Mercedes has joined forces with American company Pebble Technology to develop a series of apps linking this hideous contraption with your car.

It says the Pebble watch can act as a “second screen” for your smart phone and “unlocks some interesting features for the connected car”.

“For example, when away from their vehicle, Mercedes-Benz drivers can review important vehicle information at a glance like fuel level, door-lock status and vehicle location using their Pebble smart watch, even when they are outside the vehicle,” Mercedes-Benz says in a press release.

Further to that, when inside the vehicle, the Pebble watch – through vehicle-to-vehicle communication – can alert drivers to real-time hazards such as accidents, road work zones or vehicle breakdowns through its vibrating function.

Hmm, I am not too sure where to even start. Needing to know how much fuel is in the car when you are sitting in a very boring meeting is just simply way to keep yourself from falling a sleep. What on this Gods Green Earth are you going to do about it? It’s not like you can go out at lunchtime and buy a 10 litter container of Shell Premium 98 to get you home.

Vehicle to vehicle communication, how about communicating with the moron who changes lanes and uses the indicator after the fact. Once this communication option is available I am happy to be one of the first to have this in my car. However I have serious doubts that Mercedes will allow me to “communicate” what I really think.

Come on guys, if you are serious about useful things, how about a longer lasting battery in your car keys. Keyless entry is a great option, but it runs the battery down so quickly you almost need to carry a spare car key to ensure you don’t end up stranded in the middle of nowhere.

There is enough space for all of us, providing we all observe the same road rules.

I have no problems with cyclists in general. You and you mate want to team up together and ride to work. Good on you. It is the Lycra-clad peloton that does my head in. Six abreast, ten deep. This, in a suburban street. They are not only blocking traffic in both directions, their grim determination to replicate Tour de France on the Lower North Shore is both infuriating and screamingly funny. If I was to pretend that I am in contention of the Bathurst 1000 on Sydney roads, I would be very quickly relieved of my driver’s licence and a very large amount of money. And rightly so. Come on, guys, I don’t mind if you are blocking my way, and only one direction of traffic. I am OK to wait until I can safely overtake. As a corporate worker, if I arrive few minutes late it is not a tragedy, though the tradie in his van behind me may not share my lack of enthusiasm for reaching my respective destination late. However, I do believe it is against the law for you lot to ride more than two abreast anyway.

Just as aside point, if you are going to wear white Lycra, stop sticking your butt in the air and get off the bike at traffic lights. The view of your rear truly leaves NOTHING to the imagination.

The other sore point is CBD pedestrians. I do not drive on the footpath, I obey the road rules. Stop at red lights and the rest. Please trust me, that SMS you are sending is not important. It will not solve world hunger or create world peace. Everything else can wait. The number of people who simply walk out on to the road without looking or caring (as it seems) is mind-boggling.

I nearly witnessed a tragedy this very morning watching a pedestrian crossing Clarence Street. The business woman wearing what a friend calls “sitting down shoes” launched out on to the road in front of a bus without a care in the world. I would have given anything to hear the bus driver trying desperately to stop roughly 10,000 kg of moving vehicle plus a number of unsuspecting passengers hurtling forward as this female unsteadily teetered across the road, obviously unable to even walk properly in her super-high heels. Love, I love beautiful high heel shoes just as much as you do. However, as somebody who drives to work every day, I know to mind the road rules, and have no intention of ending up a greasy spot on Clarence Street where some poor council worker will be sent out with a high-pressure hose and industrial detergent to scrape my remains off the tarmac.

Last month in the Weekend Australian, John Connolly from Prestige Motoring provided 10 reasons why not to fall in love with your car. I do not agree with him, and here are my 10 reasons why you should:

1) Cars don’t lie. Just because some moron with a cap back-to-front purchased an AMG badge and stuck it on the rear of a C250 (diesel), don’t blame the car. Blame the squidgy thing behind the steering wheel.

2) Cars don’t get cross with you if you are late. They patiently wait in the car park until you return.

3) A car does not continually correct you. Some of the new ones try, but this is easily rectified by turning that function OFF.

4) Cars take you where ever you want to go. They are just as happy to take you to a designer clothing store as they are to take you to Bunnings.

5) Cars do not run red lights whilst updating their Facebook, like the pedestrians in the CBD.

6) Cars are better than a therapist. A long drive by yourself is far better than session with therapist called Rainbow with whale mating songs in the background.

7) Cars don’t get sulky and stroppy if you look at another car.

8) They will even drive you around when you are shopping around for a new car. Try doing that with your partner.

9) They drive you to pick up your new car, despite knowing that they will be left behind. I try making mine feel better by telling them that they will go to a new home where the new owners will love them as much as I do.

10) Most people have fond memories of their cars, even the lemons. Now ask your friends how many of them remember their exes like this?

After eight or nine sessions at Wakefield, I thought I’d try my hand at rally school. A friend shouted her partner eight laps at Hunter Valley Rally School, so I decided to play “The Cable Guy” and join their party.

Leaving work on Friday and getting stuck on the Pacific Highway was not the best way of starting our adventure, but once we cleared Warawee, things improved drastically. My friends were lucky, as they’d left about 30 minutes earlier. However, at least I had personalised updates on the traffic conditions.

We arrived in Cessnock, quickly found a fabulous pub called the Oaks with a fancy restaurant and great food. Feeling much mellower after our meal, we quickly hit the hotel for an early morning start.

We arrived at the requested time at HPOTs. I love watching the individuals booked for these sessions. You have a variety ranging from fathers with families who would not look out of place at a corporate “meet the family day” to teenagers with licenses so new that the ink has not yet dried, guys who would not look out of place riding a Harley wearing club colours and everything else in between.

After an intensive briefing from Amber, where we received a severe warning not to abuse or be rude to the young helpers, who turned out to be her delightful children, we were ready to start. The initial eight laps were in a Datsun from the 1980s. As you can appreciate, a car about 30 years old (which for the last ten of these has been used as a rally car, and for the last five has suffered the indignity of being abused by customers of the Hunter Valley Rally School) was never going to provide a luxury ride. Sitting in the little red Datsun, waiting to enter the circuit, I thought that the rattles and shakes were re-organising my internal organs. The interior was covered in inches of dust and the instructor and myself very quickly shared this dust coverage. The first lap is supposed to be completed at a moderate pace to get you familiar with the track and the car. The subsequent seven laps are to be done faster and faster, whilst trying to stay on the track and hopefully not lose your teeth, internal organs or dignity.

After completing the eight laps, I was covered in dust, and my liver was somewhere above my shoulder blade. But boy, what fun! Both my friend’s partner and I booked an additional five laps in more recent and lot less-abused WRXs. I wished that it had been more than five laps. The WRX was more responsive, faster and so much more fun. I fully realise that no sane person would let you trash one of the WRXs on the first round, and this business treats the last five laps as icing on the cake.

It is now three days since my highly enjoyable but dusty experience, and I am still coughing up dust.

We drove home via Wollombi. This is such a pretty road; with the twists and turns and traveling at the allowed speed, it keeps you engaged and concentrating at your peak, in contrast to the boring and concrete F3. I had the Harmon Kardon sound system turned up to level that would alarm most people, listening to Lorde, Cloud Control, Kite String Tangle and Mumford & Sons. I am still smiling three days later.