SOME things in life are certain. For example, the onset of warmer weather obviously indicates that summer is finally here, along with the fact that people are wearing woefully badly fitting clothes, ignoring warnings about sun burn and keeping their roofs up on their sexy little sports cars.
It may well be summertime and the weather may well be jolly fine (and the living easy), but I beg someone to explain to me, WHY when someone has shelled out their hard earned cash on a beautiful (or even not that beautiful) convertible car would they not get their top down once the sun shines? Surely that is the whole point of them?
Apart from the fact that it’s really nice to feel the wind in your hair and the sun on your face, a sunny blue sky day is the perfect excuse for posing in your shades with a cool CD playing. I should know-I did it for years in my own sports car (even when it wasn’t that warm if I am honest!)
It just grieves me when I see these shiny little numbers whizzing around our villages and towns on a glorious day that they still have their tops up. If the driver is a girl I have put this down to the fact that the windswept look might not be quite what is required in the boardroom, but just take your GHDs with you or wear a headscarf and big sunglasses so you look like a fifties film star!
I wouldn’t mind if it was a complicated and technical procedure to put the top down, but it’s all at the push of a button these days (probably to make it even easier for girls.)
Back in the day when I drove a 1968 MGB Roadster (not actually in 1968 I hasten to add!), putting the roof down was a major operation involving nasty pinchy clips that broke my nails on more than one occasion, and a series of very tricky press studs. Then the roof all had to be folded a bit like a sail, and tucked away crease free ready for the journey home. By the time all that been accomplished it was inevitably threatening to rain but that was the fun of it!
Then there was the funny cover thing that my bossy ex husband insisted I always used. In fact because it was such a palaver he often refused to let me have the roof down at all. Therefore when I was on my own I would stop at the merest hint of blue sky and get the roof off. Forget that old rule about enough blue sky to make a pair of sailor’s trousers-I was happy with enough to make a thong!
Any excuse to drive topless and I was happy!
I see dozens of beautiful, sleek and glamorous examples on my travels (and some truly hideous ones like Astras…why would you bother?) and each time I see one with the roof up on a beautiful day I just feel like shouting at the driver. So be warned if you see a mad woman approaching you in a rather grubby silver Ford Focus screaming at you to take your top off, it’s not a chat up line to check out your six pack, but merely an instruction.