Advantages of a light foot

I have always driven cars in an economic way – even if they are not mine, I still feel as though I am paying for the juice being pumped in via the fuel injection or carburettors.

One of the worst anxious moments I’ve experienced in a car was because I felt trapped and powerless, waiting for impending disaster. I felt trapped because I was sitting at the back of a Nissan Laurel 2.8 SGL, being driven by the man who would eventually become my father-in-law. At that stage, it was only a few days earlier that I had told his daughter that I loved her. That, in turn, was only the second time in my life I had said that to another human being ...

Romance that new, and that precious, is also fragile. A wrong step, a misspoken word and it could all come crashing down. Also, I was (really) a bit more shy in those days than I am now and certainly would not have spoken out to an elder.

So I sat behind him, on the grey, fake fur upholstery of the top-of-the-line Nissan, and continued to peer anxiously over his shoulder as the car gobbled up the kilometres in the Northern Cape, heading back to Pretoria, on the N1.

The needle on the fuel gauge had hit the E mark as Hanover loomed on the horizon. I heaved a sigh of relief because he would surely stop and fill up, especially seeing as the next garage was 82km away in Colesberg.

When he drove through, and out of Hanover, I began to panic. Even before we cleared the edge of town, the fuel warning light lit up ...bright orange. Surely, he can’t have missed that, I thought. He’ll turn back and fill up.

But he continued on, oblivious to the amber light of doom – and there followed the most anxious 80km of motoring in my life. I watched the distance sign flashing past: where would we run out? 60km to go, 50, 40?

Eventually, at about 30km to go, he noticed the warning light and boomed, in his Welsh accent: “Bloody hell!”. A combination of extremely good fortune and the fact he slowed down to crawl the last way in to Colesberg, saw us make it to the fuel station.

I was doubly anxious because, in the Seery family way, you simply did not run out of fuel. You paid attention to the fuel gauge and then put more petrol in the tank ... not like the Mayhews, my mother would scornfully say of our neighbours, who often tried to skimp on refuelling and then had to abandon their clapped-out Morris Minor and walk.

I have only ever run out of fuel once – and it was in a hired car which had a faulty fuel gauge. That was on my way to meet Jane Fonda (but that is entirely another story ...).

I have always driven cars in an economic way – even if they are not mine, I still feel as though I am paying for the juice being pumped in via the fuel injection or carburettors. So I have a very light foot ... so light, in fact, that I “repair” the damage done to the fuel consumption meter on my wife’s car when I get a chance to drive it.

I am more enchanted by a car’s economy than by its performance and have a few little tricks when it comes to producing amazing economy figures.

Given that petrol is going to hit R16 a litre on Wednesday, that makes me feel a little less anxious.