The Telegraph
Racing finely tuned Lamborghinis and getting to know the 'virtual assistant' on my new phone has this week given me hope that 'the future' might finally be upon us. Then again, I am still waiting for my hoverboard
Dan Stevens Photo: REX FEATURES
I’m still waiting for the future. In my lifetime I’ve witnessed computers wrested from the preserve of the programmers and phased into every hand and home, I’ve seen entire music collections shrunk to the size of a packet of chewing gum, and I now have a shiny new phone, which houses Siri, my new “virtual assistant”, who talks, writes my texts and tells me what the weather’s like in Glasgow. With every release of a new Apple product it feels as though we edge a little closer. But I’m still waiting for my hoverboard.
It is nearly 2012 and you did promise. Maybe I was too impressionable when the Back to the Future films were released, but my “HG Wells moment”, if you will, the point when I can say “Lo! As it was foretold, here is The Future!” will not come until I can hover to a local café, kick up my board and pick a fight with a man called Biff.
I nearly did take off last week when for my birthday I got to drive Lamborghinis very, very fast for a day at Millbrook. I’m not what some might term a “petrolhead” – I learnt to drive relatively late and I still couldn’t tell you exactly where a sparkplug goes – but I do love to drive and I do like my cars.
And my word these are beautiful cars: mini stealth-bombers, so immaculately finished inside it’s like driving a finely hand-stitched bespoke shoe.
But there was something I’d misunderstood until I’d driven one. You see, I’d always assumed that the flash guy pulling up at the lights in his “lambo” was purposefully revving his machine, showing off: “Roar! Look at me! Man drive car!” In actual fact, packed inside each one is an erotically-engineered bull that, upon being asked to slow down, stamps and rages quite independently of its driver, demanding to be let out of its pen to mate with every other car on the road, especially that cute little Nissan Figaro over there. Even Siri was scared.
But there was something I’d misunderstood until I’d driven one. You see, I’d always assumed that the flash guy pulling up at the lights in his “lambo” was purposefully revving his machine, showing off: “Roar! Look at me! Man drive car!” In actual fact, packed inside each one is an erotically-engineered bull that, upon being asked to slow down, stamps and rages quite independently of its driver, demanding to be let out of its pen to mate with every other car on the road, especially that cute little Nissan Figaro over there. Even Siri was scared.
I was delighted and proud to share my birthday this week with the launch of a new online quarterly called The Junket for which I am editor-at-large (my grandest role to date). It’s an eclectic barrel of words, with pieces on breastfeeding, the Berlin techno scene, opera, shooting squirrels, and more. I commend it to your curiosity.
