When the moment comes, they seem to happen naturally. I remember several truly memorable drives when I was a passenger though, in my dad's Clio Trophy.
The first one which stood out was chasing a TVR Chimaera along the famed yet strangely deserted Snake Pass. The brutish convertible was being driven within an inch of its life - its V8 blaring - but yet still this little red hot hatch was keeping with it, sucking up its exhaust fumes like a maniacal junkie. It was like an agile fly irritating a powerful rhino.
The second stand-out occasion was a Boxing Day jaunt to the coast. On the way home, driving along the magnificent Whitby to Pickering road, the Trophy was sensational, as was its driver. There's a particular part of that road where it dips down, veers right in a hairpin-style acute corner and the road straightens out as you then climb. It's a well-sighted part, and so overtaking isn't particularly dangerous.
I'll always remember my dad attempting what's got to be the most audacious overtake the world's ever seen. You see, I could sense what was going to happen, because every time he became frustrated by the traffic's slow progress, his left hand would irritably grab the gearstick, primed and ready for a swift change to a lower gear.
Glancing right and assessing his options as the road veered down into its lowest point before the aforementioned bend, he selected third and gunned it. Now this isn't at all audacious, but there were what must've been 12, maybe 13 cars in a tightly-packed line, so making full use of the well-sighted road he stayed committed to the overtake and it'll always be remembered by us, and of course those who witnessed it who'd remember the little Clio's masterful overtake. "Look at that absolute nutter," they no doubt said. I loved it.
With me behind the wheel, I've had a fair few memorable drives. Piloting cars like the Nissan GT-R and the Porsche 911 GT3 RS stand out, but as most of their miles were done on track, I've only had two more perfect drives on the road.
I don't know what it is about perfect drives on the road. Sure, driving flat out on the track's almost a normal thing to do; you don't go to potter around. However, brisk road driving's an almost naughty pastime. You know you're not meant to be doing it, but it feels so good to do. Speed doesn't kill; bad driving does. I'm all for driving to suit the road's conditions. If it's a built up area with a 30mph limit, then stick to it and be sensible. If you're on a deserted country road and the mood takes you, why not drop a cog or two? Fact of the matter is that when you're bounding down a challenging road, you're at your most alert. If more people paid attention to their driving on the roads, there'd be far less collisions.
As most good, twisty roads are national speed limit zones, breaking its speed limit's subsequently a difficult thing to do. You can tell the do-gooders that you're perfectly within your rights to do so. You'll get the odd wag of a walker's finger, but yet you're still not breaking the law.
My first perfect driving experience that'll stay with me for a lifetime was when I had a Bianca White 106 Rallye.
I'd taken the S2 up to the Yorkshire Dales on a sun-soaked summer evening, and everything was just so: the car was a dream, the setting was perfect, and the leather-clad Yamaha R6 rider played an Oscar-winning role.
Heading out of the popular village of Kettlewell there's a lovely bit of tarmac that snakes above the River Wharfe in the valley below. The views are great, and although it's not a remote road, if you catch it at the right time, it's brilliant. Other times it can be hellishly boring, stuck behind motorhomes and dawdling tourists.
However, catch it as I did when the sun's getting low and the tourists are well into their barbecues, it left me with a lasting impression.
I'd followed the lone biker through the village and as soon as the national speed limit signpost had appeared, the pace was considerably lifted. The road's bumpy, offset, and blind in many places - not exactly perfect for the high-revving R6 - but absolutely great for the Rallye.
The B6160 goes through Kilnsey and heads back towards Grassington, and although the Rallye's only got a smidge over 100bhp, it kept the bike in sight as the rider just could not open up any sort of advantage.
As soon as he'd annihilated the Rallye on any straight part, the car was back on its tail rekindling that giant-killing Clio Trophy magic. Thing is, that road has very few straight parts, so although the Rallye was having a thorough work out, it'd have stayed with the bike as long as the road maintained its twists and turns.
Arriving at his turn off, the biker flicked a thumbs up and away he went. What a great experience, and what's more, I doubt we barely broke the speed limit on that 60mph road. Okay, maybe just once or twice...
After having numerous adventures in my dad's Clio Trophy, I had to have one. The Rallye was sold, and a Trophy was bought. Working full-time means it's barely used on any demanding roads, but a recent free window meant a possible jaunt up to the tops of the moors.
An obligatory glance out of the window saw clear skies, and with the dry roads it was the perfect setting.
A monotonous journey to Holmfirth was done, and once you're past there the roads start getting better. A turn off towards Holme Moss is what you're first greeted with: beautiful views, but hugely bumpy roads. Get this out of the way and your ascent of the hill begins.
Long, sweeping right-handers, and equal tyre-squealing lefts. It's a great road.
You're in second and third gears around here, so although the incline's rather steep, the Trophy's always kept in its sweet spot. Turn in is lovely and the steering's beautifully weighted; the tyres finding instant traction no matter how hard you turn in.
The road's smooth and it's well-sighted, but this is just the starter of what's to come.
Reach the peak and this is my favourite part: staggering views and a ribbon of tarmac for as far as the eye can see.
You're now descending through the Derbyshire moors and it's quiet. A heart-stopping gust of wind makes its way through the front wheels so you're constantly alert, but you can use every inch of the road and take in what's coming towards you. It's not too technical but it's a great road to drive, and it's definitely one that'll live long in the memory.
It just goes to show that no matter where you are, there's a memorable moment just around the corner. It could happen when you're least expecting it, but when it happens, it makes cars worth their weight in gold.
It's hard to explain the attachment some people get to their cars. Some see them merely as a means of transportation, but buy something good and it has the ability to make you grin like an idiot. Bonds are formed and life-long memories are kept.
My first perfect driving experience that'll stay with me for a lifetime was when I had a Bianca White 106 Rallye.
I'd taken the S2 up to the Yorkshire Dales on a sun-soaked summer evening, and everything was just so: the car was a dream, the setting was perfect, and the leather-clad Yamaha R6 rider played an Oscar-winning role.
Heading out of the popular village of Kettlewell there's a lovely bit of tarmac that snakes above the River Wharfe in the valley below. The views are great, and although it's not a remote road, if you catch it at the right time, it's brilliant. Other times it can be hellishly boring, stuck behind motorhomes and dawdling tourists.
However, catch it as I did when the sun's getting low and the tourists are well into their barbecues, it left me with a lasting impression.
I'd followed the lone biker through the village and as soon as the national speed limit signpost had appeared, the pace was considerably lifted. The road's bumpy, offset, and blind in many places - not exactly perfect for the high-revving R6 - but absolutely great for the Rallye.
The B6160 goes through Kilnsey and heads back towards Grassington, and although the Rallye's only got a smidge over 100bhp, it kept the bike in sight as the rider just could not open up any sort of advantage.
As soon as he'd annihilated the Rallye on any straight part, the car was back on its tail rekindling that giant-killing Clio Trophy magic. Thing is, that road has very few straight parts, so although the Rallye was having a thorough work out, it'd have stayed with the bike as long as the road maintained its twists and turns.
Arriving at his turn off, the biker flicked a thumbs up and away he went. What a great experience, and what's more, I doubt we barely broke the speed limit on that 60mph road. Okay, maybe just once or twice...
After having numerous adventures in my dad's Clio Trophy, I had to have one. The Rallye was sold, and a Trophy was bought. Working full-time means it's barely used on any demanding roads, but a recent free window meant a possible jaunt up to the tops of the moors.
An obligatory glance out of the window saw clear skies, and with the dry roads it was the perfect setting.
A monotonous journey to Holmfirth was done, and once you're past there the roads start getting better. A turn off towards Holme Moss is what you're first greeted with: beautiful views, but hugely bumpy roads. Get this out of the way and your ascent of the hill begins.
Long, sweeping right-handers, and equal tyre-squealing lefts. It's a great road.
You're in second and third gears around here, so although the incline's rather steep, the Trophy's always kept in its sweet spot. Turn in is lovely and the steering's beautifully weighted; the tyres finding instant traction no matter how hard you turn in.
The road's smooth and it's well-sighted, but this is just the starter of what's to come.
Reach the peak and this is my favourite part: staggering views and a ribbon of tarmac for as far as the eye can see.
You're now descending through the Derbyshire moors and it's quiet. A heart-stopping gust of wind makes its way through the front wheels so you're constantly alert, but you can use every inch of the road and take in what's coming towards you. It's not too technical but it's a great road to drive, and it's definitely one that'll live long in the memory.
It just goes to show that no matter where you are, there's a memorable moment just around the corner. It could happen when you're least expecting it, but when it happens, it makes cars worth their weight in gold.
It's hard to explain the attachment some people get to their cars. Some see them merely as a means of transportation, but buy something good and it has the ability to make you grin like an idiot. Bonds are formed and life-long memories are kept.
