“What’s the best car you’ve ever driven?”
Three times this week I’ve been asked that question, because three times this week I’ve told somebody what I do for a living. (It’s that or being asked what I think of Top Gear, although, I suppose refreshingly, that tends to happen less often these days.)
Thing is, people don’t really want to know the answer. Because when I suck my teeth and suggest that, well, you know, ‘what’s the best car?’ is quite a complex question, like asking somebody what’s the best food they’ve ever eaten, and that context comes into it a great deal, they glaze over.
“Hmm,” they say, on not getting the two-word answer beginning with ‘Bugatti’ or ‘Ferrari’ that they were hoping for. “Fascinating,” they lie, as I detect them making a mental note to try to not meet again.
But it isn’t a simple question, because how do you define ‘best’? Is the best one the fastest one, or the one built from the finest materials, or the quietest one, or the most expensive one, or the most exciting one?