On my way back from the Geneva Car Show, I finished another book of Jeremy Clarkson. Honestly, I loved every word. Well, I know… he is getting a bit (ok, a lot) older, a bit tougher, and a bit grumpier. But, he is still a darn good driver, and the best Top Gear presenter the world will ever know. And yes, he is a bit homophobic, xenophobic, claustrophobic, hypochondriac, woman-helpless and generally political incorrect. And I love him for every bit of it, because he is so endearingly honest, straight and madly testosterone driven. He hates diesel, small cars, Europeans in general, Japanese wheels, Americans and rules by default. He will be the last one on the barricades, shouting “Rule the waves”. He hates cars that go slow, have less than enough horsepower and take an eternity to reach 100/hour. And above all, this grumpy slightly balding man drips his pen in pure vinegar, and writes with a vengeance. And he writes the way he drives: without compromises, fast, and relentless. On the edge. Ridiculously funny. And for crying out loud: you have to forgive him all the rest
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