VW campervans were once the preserve of antipodeans and surfers, or perhaps both. You could sort of see the attraction: the iconic shape, the open road, the let’s-start-the-party-right-here lifestyle.
But then being stuck behind one on the road as it grumbles and farts its way along a busy lochside can kill the romance fairly quickly. At least more quickly than the VW will go at full backfire. And if that’s not bad enough, all that subtle shark’s-tooth-on-leather-thong necklace and ‘yo dude’ bullying would usually do the job. You know the sort. It’s the ‘I’ll make you feel stuffy, uptight and boooooring just because you’ve got a career and a mortgage’ school of insults.
Anyhow, a fascinating piece of work recently led me to discover a thriving rent-a-VW industry in Scotland.
So it’s now possible to have it all: the 9-to-5 and privet hedge during the week, then off catching a wave, hanging with the bros or whatever it is these chaps do at the weekend.
But, without exception, every single one of the many vehicles for hire appears to have some sickly moniker. Drive off into the sunset behind the wheel of Hamish, Agnes, Tinky Winky or Paddington.
People, pets and possibly a child’s favourite toy need a name, German-engineered vehicles – however practical – do not.