#KidologyQuotes 32:
Driving the old Jag he'd managed to obtain from some ghastly car place using part-exchange, a small deposit and unquantifiable untruths Jim headed out to the countryside. Not yet able to manage a satnav, beside him on the seat sat a google print-out of the area with a circle round his destination: the symbol on the map was two dogs rutting.
Jim liked driving - especially alone. Whenever he drove he secretly reverted to being 17, the only kid he knew whose father hadn't taught him to drive - let alone bought him a vehicle. "Look at me, girls," he thought, each time he got behind a steering wheel, "I'm driving a CAR!"
His mothers’ place was in no-man’s-land outside London but safely within the protective embrace of the M25. One benefit of his mundane suburb was its proximity to fields and woods; Jim often rambled there before paying her a visit, stopping in at country pubs to boost his morale. There was nothing he enjoyed more than striding across boggy fields and through the woods, where he could be relatively certain to be alone with his thoughts - such as he had.
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