As I fastened my seat belt, I lingered momentarily, wondering if I would enjoy my own company for the next two weeks. No human companion to blame for the missed turns and U-turns. It was just me, Google Maps, Spotify, and of course, the car for company. I began on a cautious note, knowing that I was embarking on a solo road trip in Scotland, my first in a foreign country.
As I stared at the open road, the signs called out with the meticulous precision of Battenberg cakes, the distinctly British delicacy that inspired the chequered markings on emergency vehicles. I try to avoid such vehicles coming for me. It’s not as if I am a terrible driver. Let’s just say that I have certain issues. This road trip was partly about facing my fears, one of them being my fear of speed.
Competitive as I am, I need to exercise an extraordinary degree of self-restraint to allow others to overtake me. However, when driving fast, my Darwinian instinct of self-preservation kicks in. Simple maths suggests that the probability of living is inversely proportional to the car’s acceleration.
