One of the few benefits of "getting on" is cheap car insurance.
I have a Porsche 911. Yes, I know, I haven't told you that. It doesn't exactly fit with my self-image and I'm getting rid of it. Even so, it does nearly 150 miles per hour. Two hundred quid, fully comp, unlimited mileage, on a classic car policy.
I also have a London Taxi. The maximum speed of this bleeder is 60mph, and that's with a long run up. I got it because, with so many kids, I run a taxi service, so I thought I may as well get a taxi. I couldn't get fully comp, but third party only was two hundred quid.
My main runabout is a little Ford. You have to pronounce it "Kay A" otherwise you get into tiresome conversations with the garage:
"I want to book my Ka in for a service"
"What sort of Ka is it?"
It's a nice little number. I like the shape of it. It costs (you guessed it) two hundred quid to insure. Fully comp. (That's before I had three prangs in it this year).
Now I need to insure two of my teenage daughters. The two hundred is going up to eight hundred.
It's a good job they're not boys or it would have been more like two thousand.
My eldest daughter is 18. She didn't want to drive when she was 17. She didn't trust herself to be safe on the road. Ironically (and obviously), she is undoubtedly more safe than my 15 year old lad will be who's full of testosterone and thinks he's god's gift to driving before he's even started.