Motion sickness
I hate driving. Real driving that is, fantasy driving at top speed along one of those endless straight roads from American movies with the stereo on loud I’m fine with but actual driving in real cities I’ll avoid whenever possible. My other half tells me this is a middle class affectation and he may have a point. I grew up being driven to places and associate public transport with independence, whereas working class scruffs like him spent their formative years aspiring to afford an automobile and still find it liberating and manly. In central London it’s generally easier to get around by bus or tube. But not always easy on the bones. These thoughts are brought to you by the experience of having to get to a certain shopping centre on the North Circular by bus. Or rather by jumped up mini-van with a mission to seek out every speed bump within a 5 mile radius of its ostensible destination.