Many cars have overtaken us, driving around my Beetle as if it were a huge pothole.
NEWYORKER: Baptizing the Gun
My Beetle begins to sound like a wretched cassava mill.
The queue has formed a tightening noose around the roundabout, reducing three lanes of traffic to the one that contains my dead Beetle.
But hey, I'm relaxed because none of this stuff matters when measured against going beetle and caterpillar hunting with my daughter.
BBC: NEWS | UK | Magazine | Advice for dads? Work it out yourself
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