I'm jealous of James Ruppert, and not just because he's got a better collection of mid-1980s rock and pop cassettes than I.

Earlier today he wrote about how he doesn't get riled behind the wheel, but for my sins I occasionally do. And that means James enjoys lower blood pressure and a better quality of life.

What's more frustrating is I know where he's coming from, and how blissful driving can be when you don’t let anything get on your wick.

Actually, most of the time I can calmly cruise, but just occasionally you experience one of those situations where your life, and those of fellow road users, are put in danger by an idiot.

This happened on the eastbound M3 last Friday morning, when a white, 63-plate Mini Paceman attached itself to my rear bumper, so close that I couldn't see the lower grille of the car at all.

This clot – actually it was a clottette – had no comprehension of minimum braking distances, and there's no negotiating with people like that because they will always believe their driving skills defy the laws of physics.

The road was busy, and it was several miles before I could find a safe space to slot back into the lane on the left. Yes, I admit I made my displeasure known as the driver went past – although as James points out in his blog, I should have just let it slide and kept calm.