The young characters in a new book are viewing life from the seat in their parents cars. (see pictures).

As a child, I was used to spending a lot of time being driven all over the place, whilst having no control over the destination. Even if I knew where we were going, there was almost definitely other unannounced stops made in between. And they often included visits to a hairdresser, or grocery shopping, or dropping in to chat with someone my parents hadn’t seen for ages “because we’re passing”.

I became interested in the details of the car dashboard, and the backs of the front seats too (although there’s not much interesting about those). And it was in friends’ parent’s cars being taken to sporting events and such things that I discovered the huge variety of car interior designs.

Once, I noticed that my friend’s mother’s car only had two pedals, compared to ours with three. When asked, my dad laboriously explained the difference between automatic and manual transmission, complete with drawings on a piece of paper. For weeks I visualised the clutch plate spinning and the drivetrain engaging and all this happening every time the gears were changed. Automatic transmission seemed to make more sense: two pedals, stop and go. But I was a manual transmission person and always will be – because my dad had a manual.