The terror that roars in the night

Last week I was invited to tour the BMW plant at Rosslyn, and then given the opportunity to take a new 3 Series home for the night.

I enjoy manufacturing plant tours. I always find it fascinating to gain insight into the processes that go into making objects we take for granted. I`ve been to Coca-Cola bottlers, and research laboratories, down mines, to smelting plants and now, to a BMW 3 Series plant.

It really is quite an incredible thing to see. From the robots used to do the welding, to the way the entire outer shell of the car is dipped into a series of paint vats to ensure a final glossy finish, the plant is run with German precision.

Because I always embrace the opportunity to try something new, I accepted their offer to allow me to take a new BMW home for the night.

Georgina Guedes, Editor, ITWeb Brainstorm

I enjoyed my plant tour thoroughly. What was particularly cute was that we weren`t expected to have to walk anywhere, and even though the entrances to different sections of the plant were only a few metres apart, we all jumped into golf carts for the ride between them.

So, it can be said that I am into production plants. What I am not into is cars. They fail to thrill me. I`m just not a car kind of girl.

A friend once told me a story about how her boss wouldn`t date some guy she`d met at a party because he drove a Corsa, and I was astonished. Further research has revealed to me that this is common sentiment among women. How awful.

But, because I always embrace the opportunity to try something new, I accepted their offer to allow me to take a new BMW home for the night.

Allow 10 minutes for me to figure out how to start the damn thing, with a key that is all plastic and no key, and I`m on the road.

I found it to be quite stressful driving. Part of the problem was that I have no sense of direction, and was leaving Roslyn, driving a car that costs more than my house. This, coupled with the fact that I stalled at every robot because I wasn`t used to the controls meant that I didn`t really relish my first BMW experience.

However, I did have one moment of exhilaration when I got frustrated with being stuck behind a truck and pulled out into the fast lane, thinking I was going to annoy the people behind me, but they just became specks in the rearview mirror.

I thought they must have been going particularly slowly, until I glanced at my speedometer and learnt that I was going at 160 kilometres per hour. That felt pretty good.

Caught up in the joy of having a big, fierce car, I invited three friends to join my boyfriend and me for dinner at Casa Linga, and we picked them up on the way. What was really frustrating, and what must be frustrating for BMW drivers all the time, is that we wanted to show off, but all these other cars just kept getting in the way.

We had a good evening, but at the end of it, I was forced to admit I didn`t feel any particular thrill at being the driver of a big, fast car. My boyfriend said the real thrill would be if I let him take it to Rhapsody`s and use it to pick up women - a suggestion which I vetoed.

The next morning I had to return this behemoth, and pick up my own beloved blue Toyota from where I had left it at the Park Hyatt. The sad thing was that although I hadn`t really revelled in the pleasure of driving the car when I had it, I missed it terribly when it was gone.

My faithful Toyota felt desperately tinny and lightweight, and the brakes felt like they hardly worked at all. Glumly I returned to the office, leaden petroleum coursing through my veins.