Didn't Chase Anybody.

Lovely road ride on Sunday. Lots of hills. Lots of sunshine. Lots of peace and just the odd miserable looking cyclist - yes you, roadies and you, mountain bikers, both equally grumpy looking - and in all the hills and bumps I climbed, I didn't chase anybody.

Yay for me. No carrots. No sticks. No need. It's kind of a small victory in a slightly bigger war.

In other news: the GiT is on the verge of being reborn. After three years of not really caring how or what I drove, the poxy, whispering, OE-type back-box pretty much fell off the Mk2 and, well, if you have a stainless Jetex just sat there, you really might as well use it. So on it went.

Hurrah for a familar, grumbly, deep-toned idle and that little hint of a hissing rasp at 2,000rpm or so and suddenly it sounds like a car. And all it really needs now is a branch manifold, the VT engine mount(s) and the TSR motor, with a big-valve head, cam, chip and all. You can take your poxy turbo diesel estates and shove 'em.

Hello spring. Missed ya.

Return of the GiT...

I can count the cars I like on the fingers of one hand: VW Corrado, Porsche 911, E-Type Jag and the Mk Golf GTi. Modern cars? Bland, tedious things - need crushing. Wankers who think a turbo diesel estate is desirable? Need crushing. Mk3 Golf GTis erm, yes, you guessed it, need crushing.

And as of Thursday, I'm back in a proper GTi, a red, three-door Mk 2, that doesn't know what's about to hit it. And what's about to hit it is the tuned TSR motor, manifold, chip and exhaust system from my grey Mk2, the GiT, so called because he was ridiculously quick, appallingly rough in a good way and, well, a car with very short hair, stubble and an evil, laughing glint in his little round eyes.

I've missed the little sod. Missed the distinctive feeling of  mass wedged into a very small space, like a little brick of compressed rawness. Missed the rumbling, lumpy tickover and the howling, bonkers acceleration when the tacho hit 4,000 revs. Missed the stuff it in as hard as you dare cornering. Missed driving a proper car.

The Mk3 I've been rolling around in for the last 18 months or so never felt like  mine. Too bland and wobbly and dull and modern. Just functional, but I don't really do functional, not when things with wheels are concerned anyway. Reasonable fuel consumption, comfy seats and relaxed motorway cruising don't really impress me much. And yes, it's shallow and daft and about as eco-sensitive as making candles from baby seals, but there it is.

And right now I'm grinning just at the thought of being back in a Mk2. Plotting suspension upgrades. Pondering tyres. Window shopping for wheels - BBS RAs as came stock on late 16v GTis - hey ma, the GiT's almost back. Can't wait.