Page 20 Daily Mail, Thursday, August 29, 2019
Craig
Brown
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/craigbrownNever accept
a lift from
stars in cars
A
new biography of
Lucian Freud
reveals that the
meticulous painter
was a haphazard
driver, with at least 15 con-
victions for dangerous driv-
ing before the age of 40.
This is, perhaps, not all that
surprising. Generally speaking,
artists tend to be impulslve, reck-
less and devil-may-care. none of
these are attributes suited to driv-
ing with due care and attention.
which of us would wish to be
driven by Salvador Dali, say, or
Jackson Pollock? Fortunately,
although Andy warhol somehow
managed to pass his driving test,
he gave up driving shortly after-
wards, having crashed his car into
a taxi on Park Avenue and
47th Street.
Musicians are also
ill-adapted to driv-
ing. Rare is the
rock-star-
swimming-
pool without
a Rolls-
Royce in the
deep end.
If ever you
are offered a
lift by a
stranger and
you spot an
electric gui-
tar in the
back of their
car, the best advice I can offer is to
say, ‘Actually, it’s such a lovely day,
I think I’ll walk’.
This applies to classical musi-
cians as well as rock musicians.
The brilliant Canadian pianist
Glenn Gould was a terrible
driver. ‘He would spin out of
control on slippery roads, plough
into snow banks, run into guard
posts on the highway, and drive
onto the sidewalk, endangering
trees and parked cars’, writes
his biographer.
Gould’s favourite way of driving
was with his legs crossed, and no
hands. He was often seen singing
and conducting from a score open
on the passenger seat while
driving along.
He was regularly stopped by the
police for jumping red lights. In
his defence, he admitted to being
‘an absent-minded driver’ but
continued, ‘It’s true that I’ve
driven through a number of red
lights on occasion. But on the
other hand, I’ve stopped at a lot of
green ones and never got the
credit for it.’
Country-and-western musicians
are among the worst. In their
maudlin way, they sing about
going on long road trips in their
cars and their trucks, but safety
issues are rarely paramount.
‘Keep your foot hard on the
pedal. Son, never mind them
brakes’, sings Jerry Reed on the
soundtrack to Smokey And The
Bandit, ‘Let it all hang out, ’causewe got a run to make.’ My favour-
ite country-and-western couple,
George Jones and Tammy
wynette, used to come to blows
over his vexed relationship with
cars. ‘A one-way ticket on the
highway to hell’ was how a
colleague described him.
One night, to stop George from
driving to the nearest bar, Tammy
hid the keys to all his cars.
Undaunted, George rode to the
bar on his lawn mower.
On the other hand, people with
the wildest characters can turn
out to be the most cautious
drivers, pootling along at 20 mph,
looking in the rear-view mirror
every few seconds and rigidly
obeying the Highway Code.
But it also works in reverse, as it
were: among
my own
friends
I have
noticed
that it is
the quiet,
mild, easy-
going types
who turn into
Mr Hyde fig-
ures when they
get behind a
wheel, cursing
other drivers,
peeping their
horns at
the slightest
provocation,
and overtak-
ing with reck-
less abandon. Few drivers are
prepared to admit to being hope-
less, and particularly not in print.
Instances of public confessions
are few and far between. One of
the most surprising is Cherie Blair,
wife of the former Prime Minister,
who admits in her autobiography
to being ‘a terrible driver’.
She is, she confesses, ‘someone
who has no spatial awareness
whatsoever’. Ten minutes in to her
first driving test, the examiner
told her to stop the car.
‘In the interests of public safety
I’m terminating this test’, he said.
‘Stay here. Do not touch the car.
I’m going to go back and get your
driving instructor to come and
get you.’O
n HeR third attempt,
she somehow managed
to pass, and phoned
Tony to tell him the
good news. ‘ “I passed!” ’ I said.
Tony’s reaction was muted. ‘You
can’t have. It’s a disgrace! He
should never have passed you.
You’re a hopeless driver.’
The very next day, Cherie drove
into the back of another car. ‘On
at least three occasions over the
years I landed up in a ditch with
the kids screaming in the back,
and many’s the encounter I’ve had
in Durham car parks with bollards
that spring out at you.’