I want to live in car advert land. It’s full of beautiful people for a start. None of your weathered lived-a-life types (like me). Beautiful people skip through beautiful European piazzas toward their beautiful vehicles, in their beautiful clothes, unsullied by grime and detritus and life.
There’s a soundtrack playing of course. It’s jazz or maybe indie (if its night in car advert land) or thumping rock (deserts and alpine passes only). Car advert land is like living in a heavily saturated technicolor photograph, placed right beneath a speaker, endlessly tuned to Achingly Hip Tunes FM.
But the main reason I want to live in car advert land is the roads. They will help you question why you ever rode a bike or plumped for public transport. They are wonderful. Or to be more precise, wonderfully empty. There’s no crawling through the city in car advert land. No lengthy soul destroying queues of traffic. No mind dumbingly tedious shaking of fists at junctions. No low speed foot chases by drivers who have temporarily taken leave of their senses. Just clear, empty, spacious roads. You know the type. They exist only in car advert land and in our dreams. And Iceland.
Image via The Iceland Review.