I was called upon today to get from one meeting to another. The person I
was attending with (a hospital director) has a company-provided, top of
the range Mondeo (ST-whatever it is, the go-faster sort), but as I don't
like being driven by people whose driving I don't know, I decided to
drive myself. Being the friendly sort, I offered him a lift.

The first section of our drive is a 40-50-40-50 limit stretch, with
loads of cameras in either direction. During this phase, I had to sit
quietly and listen to a lecture on how modern Fords are much improved in
build quality (they are, I've driven both Focus and Mondeo of late and
they're *almost* up to Audi levels, though they do develop rattles with
big miles), how they handle superbly (they track well, but lack the
composure of a decent beemer), how auto boxes can never be truly
"sporty", how fast Fords are much faster than BMWs on cross country
roads, given that the E32 is the supertanker of the car world, and how
behemoth saloons like mine are dinosaurs, and destined to demise. I
declined to comment as the man is, after all, my work superior.

Turning off onto the back road section that would constitute the next 25
miles, I said only "the Jesus bar is located to your left", switched the
740 into sports mode on the box, and depressed the loud pedal about as
far as it would go.

Thanks to JB's best efforts on the track control arm bush front (750
items fitted, and fitted superbly) and the track rods, it no longer
tramps into corners when braking hard, and thanks to John Burns'
confirmation of hub centre rings on the wheel wobble front, it no longer
shakes its head at speed. I am, though I say it myself, no slouch as a
driver, having been assessed to Class 1 level twice in the last 5 years,
and proceeded to attempt to make up for the fact that we were 10 minutes
late for a meeting only 30 minutes away.

We arrived 2 minutes late, with Mr Ford having been *totally* silent,
apart from the occasional, under-his-breath "Jesus f.cking Christ",
through our journey on some amazingly tight, twisty back lanes. The 740
performed superbly throughout, to the extent that I started to wind my
previously verbose passenger up by lighting cigarettes mid corner, as
well as changing CDs in the latter stages.

As we got out, he asked "how much does one of these cost?" I replied
"How much do you *think* it costs?" ... came the breathless reply "got
to be 5 to 7 thousand, minimum?" ... when I informed him the whole thing
stood me in less than £2,500, his eyes went wider than you would think a
human being's could ... "for *THAT*?! But it's a bloody *missile*!"

Much as with myself of late, I think we have a convert :)

Just thought I'd share that with you all.