I’m still getting the occasional bit of stick for my comments about van drivers.

To teach me a lesson, Hogsback Harry made me drive his van at the weekend. It’s one of those big Mercedes Sprinters, slightly larger than my first house.

Now, I’m a biker. I don’t own a car and only drive The Fair Lady Scully’s tin box if I absolutely have to. So I’m not really happy being encased in metal. And definitely not when it’s as much metal as there is in a Sprinter.

I did my best. I tried to stay in the driving lane and move out only to overtake things, then move back. I tried to get out of the way of faster things. I tried to politely let people pull out.

But there’s something about a van. My god, if Blofeld was to drive himself, I bet it’d be in a long-wheelbase Sprinter. The sense of power, indestructability… A couple of times I caught myself gripping the wheel, foot flat to the floor, grimly bearing down on another vehicle, muttering “I’ll just pass that one then pull in… now I’ll just pass that one and pull in…” When clearly I should have been over to the left for a good couple of minutes before pulling out.

Plus I really struggled to know how wide the damn thing was and I kept forgetting to use the mirrors properly. Nearly collected something I’d missed in them (a double-cab pickup, so it was justice of a sort).

Yes, I did all the annoying things that wind me up when I see van drivers doing them. I admit: I drove it like a dick.