With the revolution in new media and the evolution of traditional print titles, so-called automotive journalists have become as common as station wagons, but are generally less useful and mostly as expressive as crash test dummies.
Some of these rookies, however, are so skilful, resourceful and cheap that my carbon fibre rice bowl is cracking under the pressure, so I’ve been forced to consider other occupations that would keep my wheels turning and my brain churning if this proverbial dream job ever hits a roadblock and I get busted for “think driving”.
I would love to be a Traffic Policeman – an officer and a gentleman in pristine white, riding a big motorbike and ruling the roads. My personal vendetta as a TP is to catch truckers, cabbies and delivery riders on the wrong side of the law. I would be their worst enemy.
Or I could be the best friend of carpark operators, enforcing their draconian regulations as a fanatical parking warden. My daily patrols would be more like paramilitary exercises – complete with camouflage, so I can pounce on unsuspecting errant drivers.
Another career-stuck-in-a-carpark that piques my interest is the jockey. I get to drive sports cars over short distances, molest at least a million dollars’ worth of motoring machines every night, and remaster all the paddles, pedals, gears and rears that a Torque magazine editor should be familiar with.
The job scope of the car jockey is also a lot safer than that of the other jockey in the Turf Club.
The only danger here is that my passion and my profession are one and the same, making this occupation a full-time preoccupation for me.
