There's One Slight Problem With Saving Fuel...

        Being a thrill-seeking, fun loving, edge-of-the-seat kinda guy, I decided to break the habit of a lifetime and read an actual newspaper the other day. Since then, I've learned that apparently, we're all running out of fuel, that everyone is doomed to a lifetime of pain and sniffles, and that the Daily Express are still obsessed with Diana. Further venturing into the archives of the Daily Mail draws me to a list of things that cause cancer, and the answer it seems, is everything in the whole world! No seriously, it's a combination of electricity, long fingers, being tall, peanut butter and (my personal favourite) Prince Charles' Organic Crisps. The only obvious conclusion that anyone can draw from this is to build a shelter and camp out, waiting patiently for the plague to pass by us. So long as you don't bring any cancer-causing bread with you. Or be a man. Or a woman. All of these will literally make you explode in front of everyone's eyes. I'd be happy to dismiss this as sheer panic-talk and buy them all new tinfoil hats to replace their old ones, but then it occurred to me that they have a circulation of over 2 million! That's a lot of people who I assume spend the first few hours rocking in the foetal position every morning before braving the front door.

        Now, almost six years ago, Mrs Max and I went travelling. Just, sorta upped sticks and went on a fun ol' jolly around the world, because, you know, fun! For four months of 2006, we didn't have to get up to go to work, instead we got up to go canyoning or something similar. I didn't need to prepare my suit for a meeting the next day with some executive of something or another. Instead, I had to prepare my stuff to learn how to surf! Seriously, if you can get away with it, absolutely go! Ignore the scare-papers when it tells you that you will explode or get cancer if you step outside of Hertfordshire and go see the world and learn something new, as well as save memories that will last forever! For example, I learned from a genuine Buddhist monk why the Buddha statue is shown as fat. I would tell you, but that would defeat the point. Go out there and find out yourself! While pouring £55 of go-fluid into the car the other day, I remembered something else from when I was in Malaysia; this guy driving a Land Rover we were all travelling in stopped to fill his tank. Now I can't remember how much it cost him, but I do remember him clearly saying that petrol cost less than water! Less than water?? Now I reckon that it's because it's probably full of stones and dead rodents, but that's crazy-cheap! This was 2006 as well, when petrol was comparatively cheap here. Today, I have to remortgage my face every time I want to drive to the shops to pick up a pint of milk. Add this cost to the constant demands that we watch what we consume, and we are constantly reminded that every gallon of fuel you burn gives a baby Polar Bear an icky tummy. So, apparently, we need to cut down how much fuel we use.

        So let's look at what you actually need to do, so Polar Bears can stop taking Rennie and go back to whatever it is that Polar Bears do. Standing on top of a giant mint, or something like that...

        First of all, you need to make sure that for every journey, you have juuuuust the right amount of air in your tyres. Too little and they'll drag, too much and... well, I don't know what will happen. But don't anyway, just in case! You also need to make sure that you empty everything out of your car, such as your bag, or your mobile, or your family. In fact, just a pair of underpants will be sufficient. However, you can't counter this by putting on the air conditioning, as this will increase your fuel consumption by anything up to 20%, depending on what car you drive. If you wish, you can tune your radio to BBC Parliament and enjoy the waft of hot air coming from the speakers. Now, however, you have the most important thing; you have to drive like you're a cross between a Nun and someone so old, their first phone number was "1". Basically, you have to remember that every time you hit the brake for anything, you are wasting the fuel that got you to a speed that was clearly unnecessary in the first place. So if you're coming up to a junction, you need to start slowing down waaaaay before you normally would, so you basically coast to the end. You have to plan your route ahead so that any small hills are planned for, so you accelerate down them to give you the momentum to go up them. Finally, if you come across a traffic jam, it's advisable to pull over and stop altogether, in your underpants, until the traffic has cleared and you can continue driving like a hungover Vicar. And that's before we look at things like replacing your car for a training shoe-sized box that's powered by an arthritic mouse on a running wheel. Don't bother with a Toyota Pry-us (or Pree-us if you're American, or Pious if you have any like for cars). Go with a tiny diesel, which is a far better bet than the fabulous marketing gimmick that is the Japanese Hybrid.

        So now, you're a driver in a horrible little tin-car that wears only underwear and moves with all the thrust and pace of continental drift. Mr P. Olar Bear will send you a thank-you card in the post.

        And this is the biggest problem that the "save fuel" lobby will encounter. I bet you that there are very few people who would actively dismiss the idea of cutting consumption, but if the suggestion is that we all drive like it was a game of Operation, then I doubt anyone's going to be supporting the idea. I can't think of anything more boring than planning the fuel economy for a journey you take once in a while. It sits alongside standing in the supermarket working out if one brand of butter is a few pence per Kg cheaper than another one in the "my life is no longer interesting and fun" measurement. Just to prove my point, when I was in America, I could have hired some tiny little car, but what would have been the fun part of that? What did I hire? Well, this!

        And I bet you'd do the same!



(pictures credited to Ambro and Matt Banks)

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