One of the advantages of having a camera built into your mobile phone is that you always have the means to capture interesting images or video footage, wherever you go.

Anyway, should you find yourself in Asda, beware Aisle 14:

Click to enlarge

I was going to title this piece, "Is There Life In Peckham?" - a reference to the lyrics of that pop classic by Alexsei Sayle, "Hello John, Gotta New Motor?". In the end, I decided this was too obscure a headline for all but the hardiest of DMfM readers.

As you may already be aware, last November, whilst driving along the M1 I was involved in an accident. I'll skip over the details of that for now, as it's not officially been settled, and it's just possible that publishing details of it on the Internet, could be frowned upon by either my insurance company, or that of the doddery old fart or rear-ended my car. (Yes, that's a less than even-tempered summary of events, but what do you expect?).

And so, after much wrangling with insurance companies, I'm left looking for a new car, on a tiny budget (having still not sold my truck in the US). And so, last weekend, I spent two solid days, freezing my arse off, traipsing around the used car forecourts of Bristol (because there was no way I was going to subject myself to such things in London, with the inflated prices and egos of the geezer-salesmen, that would have entailed).

At this point, I must pay tribute to my friend John, who patiently drove me around, and offered his two cents on any vehicles we looked at. I couldn't have done it without him.

I decided to limit my budget to two-thirds of the actual funds available, because as of today, my contract job in London is over, and so far, I'm still looking for my next gig. Thus back-up funds for such crazy luxuries as food, heat, and a roof over my head, are required. This limited budget severely reduced the number of cars that were available to me, but there were enough to choose from, if we looked carefully.

I won't bore you with all the details of all the cars I looked at, and drove, but I would say, that getting a Which Car Guide is a wise move, as in addition to the expected prices, it also comments on well-known problems with every model of car.

For example, I'd had my eye on the Volvo V40 - which would have given me a vehicle akin to a shrunken version of my truck in the US, and nearly as rugged. However, it turns out that all such cars from the years I could afford, were pretty much cursed (according to the Guide). Not having a priest with me (to exorcise any such haunted car), I decided to steer clear of them.

I came close to buying the exact same (trusty) model of Ford that I'd previously had, however, upon test driving it, it proved to be not so much cursed, as demonic. Sputtering and lurching around as I tried to accelerate away. I don't mind buying a car that's been repossessed, but I'm less keen on one that's just possessed.

In the end, after two days of arse-bittingly (yes it's a real word, ask anyone who works outdoors in the UK) cold and damp car lots, I ended up going back to the second car I looked at. This, dear reader, is where you brace yourself...

Instead of buying a zenzible nearly new car like the Ford Cardigan, the Vauxhall Pension, or the Rover Pipe-and-Slippers, I bought an older BMW. Yes, I realise I'm playing with The Dark Side here, but of all the cars I tried, it was the one I most immediately felt good about.

It's older, but the bodywork is in great condition, it still looks stunning, and slightly continental, and goes like the clappers. Yes, it's the Rula Lenksa of automobiles, and it had me in its spell. I'm just hoping that doesn't make me the Dennis Waterman of drivers, whereby I end up unconscious with my head on her airbags.

I'm not one to give cars names. That really is a chick thing. However, in the interests of comedy, and because in theory I'm only keeping this car until I get what my father would call, "a real job" (I think he must be confusing me with some pop-star), I'm going to call it Rula Lenska. It's a cool, exotic name, and I'm quietly confident that the actress in question is a good enough sport that she wouldn't be offended.

Now, given the reputation of BMW drivers (at least those in the UK), I theorised, after making my purchase, that as I drive Rula off the forecourt the following weekend, a panel in the dashboard would slide open, and a sucker device (think K9 or dalek) and attach itself to my forehead. It would then suck all the compassion out of me, and thus I would be assimilated into the BMW-Borg, to roam the roads of Britain, driving like an asshole.

We'll pause here for a moment, to let those who have been in a car with me driving to chip in with all the, "...but how will we spot the difference?" quips.

In fact, my plan is to start The BMW Rebel Alliance, whereby I use Rula for good, and not for evil, driving calmly around the galaxy, with a couple of Jedi Knights in the back. This of course, means I'll become the Hans Solo of the M4, ("she may not look much kid, but she's got it where it counts.... I once did the Kessler run in 12 parsecs"). Actually, if I can do the Tesco run in 12 minutes, I'll be happy.

I'm picking up Rula tomorrow morning (London Transport scuppered my attempt to get there in time, today), so expect reports on just how many times I don't get let out of side roads, get cut up, tailgated etc, by other drivers who assume I'm part of the collective evil.

Footnote
DMfM would like to point out, that vast generalisations about the behaviour and driving style of people, based entirely upon the brand or model of car they drive, are, let's face it, generally true. They are also in line with DMfM's VUGP (Vast and/or Unsubstatiated Generlisation Policy), a copy of which you will have received in your DMfM Welcome Pack.

There are exceptions to every rule, and no doubt there are many kind and considerate BMW drivers out there, somewhere. Just like there are probably other inhabited planets, somewhere. As soon as I've figured out how to get Rula's onboard computer to make the jump to light-speed, I'll pop round for a cup of tea.

Footnote 2
OK, I really was hoping not to have to 'explain' who Rula Lenska (the actress, not the car) to my US readers. I mean, read what I wrote and work it out people. Y'know? Like us Britons do, when you subject us to your cultural references.

Anyway, in order not to be bombarded by emails from the US asking me to explain it, think "Sophia Loren", and you'll get the idea. If you're still not getting it, then I really can't help you.