You advised me (July 13) to keep my clapped-out model for weekday use while having something more sporty for the weekends. I was hoping to report on my joy-riding, but I could not get into the right gear and never did get to burn any sporty rubber. I am fond of my old model despite the rugged bodywork, unreliable performance and noxious emissions. Yet I can’t stop thinking what an improvement a sophisticated, sporty model would be, with perfectly tuned engine, well-maintained body and smart computing system. Should I adopt a more egocentric approach and take my life up a gear?

BE, Bromley

You never know with these sporty ones if they will turn out to be classics or crocks: have you got an Aston Martin DB5, or a TR7? Nothing dates faster, breaks down more often and requires more care and attention than an ageing sporty type. With something more solid, you know you’ll get there in the end. Try test-driving the sporty model. A quick ride may reveal that the performance is overpowered and more than you can handle. (Their rear ends can skip about all over the place.)

SOCK SHOCK

I have suddenly found that socks don’t work. Although engineered to fit everyone, I find they squeeze the toes on my average-sized foot quite painfully. Should I leave them off?

KB, Middlesborough

Not wearing socks is a step too far. Simply cut out the toes, and voilà, perfect comfort (and they’ll look better with sandals, too).

AMAZING (ALMOST)

In your column of September 7, there was a letter signed MC about being served by an old school friend. I own a group of restaurants and was recently in one of them helping out. The staff complained about a customer, who turned out to be an old school friend of mine, with the initials MC. He asked what I did “nowadays”, and I didn’t embarrass him by revealing that I was the owner attending to a customer-service problem.

RS, London

It could not have been the same MC because my correspondent was female, which makes this whole letter rather pointless, but that’s life sometimes.

Send problems to: Mrs Mills, The Sunday Times, 1 Pennington Street, London E98 1ST. No correspondence can be entered into.

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