Penelope

Penelope is becoming an important influence on our lives, and like most fickle women, having arrived without a manual, is taking some getting used to. The real asset of Penelope was always supposed to be that on Highway 1 we could drive with wind through my/ our hair. She was not originally forthcoming with this asset, and chides me constantly for minor transgressions, such as not using my seat belt, trying to leave with the lights on(something a volvo takes inits stride), and she will positively not let me put the key in my pocket unless the handbrake is on and she is in p for park. Personally I see these 'automatic responses' as flaws in her character, and eeventually, manual or no manual I removed our luggage from the apparently Gaping Ghyll sized boot, pressed the button inviting her to let her hair down and watched as she transformed herself in to a sleek, aerodynamic temptress justwaiting to be handled.
Well actually for once I was so mesmerised at the amount of boot lifting hood folding and window dropping going on that I left her to it. Hopefully the video (wow thats how impressive it all was) will be self explanatory.
This explains how, as we set off on the dramatic Moss Landing/ Big Sur / Cambria part of our journey we were to be fried to the scant roots of our bald patches. More crucially now that the boot was filled with hood, we had the slight problem of luggage on the drive. Clarkson has mentioned these issues in his chirpy on screen gambits,without providing a solution other than sarcastic whingeing, however as there was a back seat with seat belts and a suitcase each the biggest problems largely resolved themselves. The devil as ever is in the detail. and what becomes of our polystyrene cool box lid and various maps and other critical paperwork like where we are hoping to stay is a matter for frivolous conjecture