Living with Lockdown - 20

Today I have nothing of interest to report on. That is assuming that the things I do report on are of interest anyway. Perhaps they only interest me. When I first started my blog, way back in June 2011, I wrote once or twice a week, with the intention of it becoming daily. When I mentioned this to my mother, she said, 'Oh, you don't want to bore people!'
Well, 1 800 posts and 168 000 page views later, be bored. Here's one of the first blogs from 2011:

I once had a BMW 7-series automatic.
I had never thought about owning one.  I was driving a Toyota Conquest at the time.  One day my husband says: "We're taking a drive up the West Coast."  Who am I to argue - I love a drive in the country and we are seldom in the same car.
We get to a small town about 200km from Cape Town and he pulls into a car dealership, goes into the office and comes out with a bunch of keys. "Let's take this car (a large red BMW) round the block." Well, ok. So we go round the block and back into the yard.  He gets out of the car, says "I've bought it for you. See you at home."  (This may seem a trifle odd, but he is not big on discussing things and works on a "need to know" basis.)  He gets into his car and leaves.
So there I am in this huge car, never driven an automatic and his dust has already settled. After figuring out how to adjust the seat in 4 directions so that I can see over the steering wheel, I start the engine, lever the gearshift into Drive and ease out into the street.  I nearly find myself back in the yard thanks to power steering and drive with my fingertips after that. Thank goodness for a Saturday afternoon in a small town - not another car in sight! The onboard computer tells me all kinds of things that I've never needed to know in the Conquest - I've hit the big time now!
It doesn't take long to get used to my new posh car, after all, BMW drivers aren't rocket scientists (well, some may be) and anyway the car drives itself.  It surges forward at the slightest pressure from my foot and it isn't long before we are bowling down the West Coast road at an easy 160km/h.  Ah, the recklessness of it all!  (In my defence, there were no other cars on the road and it was only due to the extremely comfortable and quiet ride that I was unaware of my speed.)
My relaxed journey comes to an abrupt end as I approach the first hurdle, a traffic light, after about 150km. I have to start thinking about how to stop, where's the clutch, there is no clutch, which foot should I use, what do I do with the gearshift?  It is no small panic, I can tell you.  By the time I get home I am exhausted but well able to handle the animal.
My husband was home long before me. "What took you so long?"  How fast did he drive?