Blasting up that perilous hilltop road, I was reminded just what makes driving, and driving the Impreza in particular, so darned good. Having endured the country's constipated motorway network for two and a half hours, I took the A39 for the last leg of the journey to Wollacombe, Devon. I thought it would be more interesting for my passengers. No, really I did.

The steep drops and tight twists called upon all the well-known attributes of the Scoob, not to mention demanding a head for heights and a lack of imagination from its occupants. We tore up the hills, passing old campervans struggling in first, and mad cyclists by the dozen. I, that is we were having a ball.

When we arrived at our destination ΂- a small patch of grass on a very scenic campsite ΂- we unloaded a mammoth mound of gear from the Impreza's boot. Two tents, four sleeping bags, enough clothes for at least two seasons, and other kit spilled out, much to the bemusement of our friends who were already there.

With a week of sun, surf and Stella over, we headed home (I was instructed to avoid the A39) and managed 26.5mpg ΂- an all-time high for the Impreza. However, the journey did take two hours longer thanks to the traffic jams.That'll teach them for not letting me take the fun route.