Mini.

It occurs to me that my last two posts do not paint the Scouting movement in a particularly favourable light. That's a bit unfair, but I do want to take this opportunity to tell you about the time I almost killed a 13-year old.

Every year Scout groups in our area take part in a night hike race called "Antler". The event is organised by a local Venture Unit, each taking turns, and we had been asked to man one of the checkpoints. It was hidden up a muddy track, and most of the Ventures had reached that point in a 4x4. Not me.

I had recently passed my driving test, and was the proud owner of a D-reg Mini Mayfair. It was and still is the best car that I have ever set foot in, and I had naturally driven it to the event. I took any opportunity to drive it, well, anywhere. Someone wanted a lift? I was the man. Old lady needed to cross the road? Hop in love, I'll take you.

Feeling peckish? Let's go get a Pizza.

So I had driven into town to fetch the aforementioned, with my mate Jon in the passenger seat. On the return journey I was showing off my driving skillz to Jon as I thundered* up the muddy track.

Everything from this point onwards happened both so quickly I couldn't give you all the details, and so slowly I can still remember the how many badges the Scout that was directly in my path was wearing. I saw him in the distance, and put my foot on the brake. Hard.

Being muddy, the car didn't stop, but rather kept on going at almost the exact same velocity. The Scout was getting nearer, and he wasn't moving out of the way. And neither was I.

I tried to steer one way or the other, but the car wouldn't have it. Straight on and bust was the only option. I closed my eyes.

And the car stopped with a thud.

I opened my eyes and the Scout stood in front of the car, just a few feet away. He waved a cheery hello, and walked off. The bugger hadn't even noticed.

I'd hit a breeze block. I'll forever be thankful that Minis are so close to the ground.

*As much as a 980cc Mini can thunder