How do you know when you've hit middle age? Traditionally, a man's midlife crisis begins when he gets himself a Harley - but I did that ten years ago, and perversely got rid of it when I hit my mid-thirties.
I got my racing licence this summer, which I suppose is a bit sad for a 37-year-old - but that was work, as it helps me write this column. (All right, I'm making excuses. It was brilliant fun.) I honestly don't feel any different for being nearer 50 than 20. Or at least I didn't until I came to write this piece.
For a start, I'm writing it at ten to midnight in the back of a chauffeur-driven S500 Merc, coming back from a function.
Not only would the younger me have refused to leave the party until they were putting the chairs on the tables but if I'd found myself in the back of a million-rand limo at midnight, it wouldn't have been a computer on my lap, I can tell you.
But the main thing that's making me feel old is the car I'm writing about, a car that's objectively very good indeed, but which I've spent the last week grumbling at like an old man with a video recorder.
The Renaultsport Clio is famous among boy racers as the most fun you can have for R250 000. The last one was a great car, so this one's going to have to be pretty special - but it won't be the power that sets it apart.
It only has a couple of kilowatts more than the outgoing model. What it does have is 20 percent more torque at lower revs, so you don't have to drive it like a screaming lunatic to get the best out of it. Well, you don't have to...
From the outside it certainly looks meaner, with an F1-inspired front blade and rear diffuser to create an area of low pressure beneath the car, giving the equivalent of 40kg of downforce at freeway speeds.
But most of the clever stuff's invisible: you can't really tell that it's a centimetre or two lower and wider than a standard Clio, nor that it has lighter, stiffer suspension and better aerodynamics. To be honest, I couldn't see anything beyond the colour: my test car was an eye-searing "alien green".
What is it with hot hatches and mad colours?
They're all canary yellow, tango orange, laser blue - do 17-year-olds' eyes work on different wavelengths or something?
I couldn't see myself driving up to London in an alien green car. Not in daylight. Already I was feeling old.
Waiting until after dark, when everyone in my village was inside watching Survivor, I set off for a test drive. The first thing I noticed was the rock-hard ride. This "Cup" version is aimed at driving purists and even track-day enthusiasts so they've stripped out all unnecessary comforts to shave 35kg off the weight, toughened up the springs and stiffened the dampers.
On top of that, my car had the optional lighter, thinner Recaro sports seats - on country roads they were about as comfortable as sitting in a milk crate.
BRILLIANT FUN
Even so, it was instantly obvious what a great little engine this car has: power comes hard, fast and evenly over the rev range, even if the short gear ratios mean fast and frequent changes. Often with powerful front-wheel-drive hatches there's masses of torque steer (a pull to one side as you accelerate), but not with this, thanks to some clever fiddling with the front suspension.
With big, grippy wheels and an ESP programme that prefers you to steer too much rather than too little, it was brilliant fun to fling round bends in the dark, using the big Brembo brakes to dab off speed before flicking it left, then right. I was driving like a youngster and loving it.
For something so small, it seemed to be channeling the spirit of a much costlier car. Although, thinking about it, most of the best cars of the last year or so have been in this sector, from Fiat's reborn Abarths to the mind-bogglingly awesome, 225kW Ford Focus RS. If you like a lot of speed for not much money this is a great time to be alive.
But such healthy competition means this hot Clio has a fight on its hands: for roughly the same price you could get a Mini Cooper S, the great Corsa OPC or an Abarth 500 EsseEsse - which I loved so much I went out and bought one. The inside of the Clio compares very badly to all of those.
NOTHING WRONG WITH SIMPLICITY
I know it's deliberate, to save weight, but there's more hard plastic in here than in a Lego factory. The lack of aircon was a serious problem in a 30-degree heatwave, while the cheapo radio just rubbed salt in the wound. The only thing putting a smile on my face was the driving.
Don't get me wrong, it was a big smile. I love fast, small, light cars, and there's nothing wrong with simplicity. Lewis Hamilton doesn't need lumbar support and a six-CD changer, does he? But Lewis is 24; I'm not.
And a couple of hours clanging around in this stripped-down speedster left my backside bruised and my molars rattling like castanets. I should point out there's a more comfortable, non-"Cup" version that has aircon, cruise control and softer springs and is still seriously fast, but this is the one all the other motoring journalists have been going crazy for.
Why should I be the odd one out?
Back home, sitting down gingerly on a cushion to watch telly and have my supper, I admitted to myself: I'm too old for toys like this - no matter how much fun they are. Middle age, I'm ready for you now. - Daily Mail