Why Women Love Their Cars

For Victoria Coren Mitchell, no romance could rival the thrill of being behind the wheel of her very first car…

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A few years ago, a survey found that women had happier memories of their first car than their first kiss. No big surprise there: the survey was a promotional exercise for the British International Motor Show. Had it been commissioned by MAC lipsticks, or Colgate, the result might have been different. If it was commissioned by Homebase, maybe we’d have discovered that every girl’s favourite memory is her first pair of pliers.

Nevertheless, I really related to that survey. My first kiss was dreadful. I remember being manhandled onto a sofa by a guy who proceeded to rummage about in my mouth like an eager dentist. (Not to cast aspersions on my dentist who, I should make clear, always checks my teeth using sterilised medical equipment. Not his tongue.)

It was all very disappointing, not to mention somewhat uncomfortable. Once his hands started tweaking and foraging about where they absolutely were not invited, I jumped up from the sofa, dusted myself down and thought: “Well, I’ll do that again in about 10 years.” Like a tetanus jab. (I’ve moved on from the dentist analogy. I do not need a tetanus jab every time I see my dentist. Not even when I’ve snogged him.)