Last time was about two years ago when I met the other yellow Panda which was collected on the same day as I picked mine up and had a reg place two numbers off mine.
When I first started reading this thread, I smiled to myself as I thought of the day, about 6 months after I got mine when I was going across the Eccles Swing Bridge over the Manchester Ship Canal when I met an identical Panda MJ coming the other way. It even had the same alloys and the "Lounge" side rubbing strip like mine.
The last three letters of my plate are FZG. The last three letters of hers? FZH, and the prefix and numbers were also the same. Then I read your post/
As for why people wave or don't wave, I think there are plenty of reasons for that. Firstly, when I was small and we had an Austin A30, people in other A30s would wave, perhaps because driving was fun, perhaps because you thought you were part of a club and we went places for fun instead of cursing the traffic, all trying to get into the Trafford Centre or Meadowhall on a Saturday. You used the car for getting to work, but a hell of a lot of people walked, cycled or took public transport to get to work; shops were open 9 til 6 Monday to Saturday, closed for half day on Wednesday (or Thursday) and were closed all day on Sunday, so you didn't just jump in the car to nip to Tesco's because you forgot to get some milk, if you didn't have any, you either borrowed half a pint from next door or did without. In other words, nowadays use of a car is so routine we've just got used to it.
The RAC patrolman would salute if you were a member and there wasn't a Police car further along the road.
If I'm out in the 156, other 156 drivers sometimes let on, but they're the ones who have one by choice, unlike the woman I spoke to last year who said she didn't like hers, her husband got it for her because her Golf had finally expired. When I asked her about the Golf, it seemed it had done 75,000 miles (the 156 had over 120,000 on the clock) and was 9 years old. The 156 was 12 years old. She missed the point that the 156 was older, had more miles on it and, perhaps most importantly, was still working. I got the impression that she didn't like the 156 because it wasn't a Golf.....or a BMW..... or an Audi.
Perhaps it's the ubiquity of cars. We all use them so much that there is no sense of adventure; that frisson of excitement that something might go wrong, that you were running a risk is missing. Nowadays people ski down mountains with a GoPro on their heads instead.
Is it the status of a marque? This can work in different ways. If you drive, for instance, a 5 year old 3-Series and see a new 420 coming the other way, do you look longingly at it, and promise yourself that one day you'll have one of those? Or do you feel jealousy; that your pride and joy isn't quite as joyful as you'd thought? When you drive your 500 1.4 and see an Abarth coming the other way do you suddently feel inadequate? Do you think your girlfriend's looking longingly at the driver of the Abarth and thinks you're a wimp?
When BMWs were rare, an uncle had a 3.0 Si in 1973 and I can remember being a passenger one day with him and my cousin when a similar car came the other way. Bernard actually let on to the other driver who.......looked away. This puzzled me because as a 16 year old I'd have waved back at the driver of any exotic or rare car I saw coming the other way. But Bernard had an answer. He knew the driver of the other car, in fact they both played at the same golf club, and it was after talking to the other driver a few months earlier about his car that persuaded Bernard to take the plunge. So why did the other driver ignore my uncle? Well I had noticed that the grille on the other car was chrome, Bernard's was black. One was a 2500 the other a 3.0Si. Did the other driver feel upstaged?
Sometimes the drivers of very expensive cars must feel a little self conscious, perhaps even a little embarrassed. A few months ago I pulled up alongside a very nice Ferrari 458 at the lights. We moved off and, inevitably he pulled ahead. 400 yards later and we're at the next lights. The weather was warm and we both had our windows down. Mine was for ventilation; maybe his window was down so he could hear the engine. I shouted "Excuse me!" He looked across, perhaps expecting some snotty comment. "I wasn't ready, I'll have you this time." He laughed and said he loved his car, but when it came to filling up with petrol, he'd have the Panda any day of the week. The lights changed and off he shot. A minute or two later and we were at the next lights. He called across: "Was your handbrake stuck on?" "How did you know?" I shot back. The lights changed, we waved and went our separate ways. A nice little exchange between drivers from extremely different income brackets that lasted no more than three minutes, but if I hadn't spoken to him it probably wouldn't have taken place at all.
So, too used to driving? No longer feels special? Snob value? Or perhaps the general feeling that society has changed and instead of driving being something that brings us together, it's the thing that divides us, and if it doesn't divide us enough, we can always wind the windows up and turn up the stereo.
Alternatively we could always go to an Italian car meet some time. Mmm, now when is the next Trafford Centre meeting?
