Come on, peeps, give us a clue

Many years ago, my esteemed father tried to encourage me get a job as a management trainee with Ford Motor Company.

I was 17, at a respected grammar school but not expected to do terribly well in my A’ levels the following year - and determined to become a reporter with my local paper.

Why he thought I should join Ford I’ll never know – maybe he saw it as a land of opportunity and something suitable for my abilities. He’d done OK with the company and perhaps thought we (Ford and me) were a good match.

Using his considerable powers of persuasion, he got me an interview at the plant he worked at in north London.

It didn’t go well. Actually, it was worse than that, with me falling at the first hurdle.

“So, Michael” said my interviewer, opening proceedings with a seemingly easy question, “why do you want to join Ford Motor Company?”

“I don’t – I want to be a journalist.” End of interview. Luckily my father has a terrific sense of humour and eventually forgave me.

The reason I bring Ford into the conversation is that he once told me that Ford, and undoubtedly most other car manufacturers in those days (post-Model T, I hasten to add) were keen to shave savings off production costs wherever possible.

For instance, use three screws to hold the cluster in place rather than four – that’s one less screw per car, multiplied by the 10 million cars they made a year multiplied by a unit cost of £0.001 per screw equals large gins all round at the office Christmas party.

Nothing seems to have changed much in the past 40-plus years.

It seems most cars nowadays don’t include indicators. You know, those funny little orange lights that used to give other motorists a fighting chance to guess which way you are intending to navigate the roundabout. Must be saving a fortune. Come on people, give the rest of us a clue.

Superb handling, smooth gear change, sticky suspension.

PS – au revoir, Jeremy Clarkson. Not a great surprise there but good to see him back in the saddle (right) the day after his contract was not renewed.

"OK, Hammond. Let’s get our snorkels on and see if we can do a length of the local swimming pool on these damn contraptions. Loser buys the steak.”