I passed my test in 1967.
Only a few years later I had to drive to Manchester in the rush hour every day for 6 weeks for a work training course.
Towards the end of that 6 weeks I had got just as bad as those nasty drivers who 'cut you up'.
It was a case of survival.
I recall a particular journey when both myself and my passenger simultaneously extended our arms out of the window as we passed Strangeways.
Ever seen a mini with antlers?
