WHO knew being rammed up the backside could be such a revelation? Incredibly, despite having been licensed to drive since before Bieber was born, Iíve never been Liberaced, which is surely good luck rather than good management. Even F1 drivers donít have eyes in the backs of their heads.
But on a busy holiday-weekend Friday, attempting to escape Sydney with my family on board the trusty Forester, I was suddenly and shuntingly bunted from behind.
The initial reaction was, of course, utter The initial reaction was, of course, utter shock, because I hadnít braked suddenly or done anything to deserve a good rear-ending, and also because I just couldnít believe the force of the impact put through the car, and my back in particular. If I was American I would have rolled out onto the pavement clutching my neck immediately.
Sadly, I had kids in the car, one of whom Ė my three-year-old daughter, who can sleep through anything, except the night Ė wasnít even woken by the crash, so I had to avoid swearing loudly, which took Herculean restraint.
I was already formulating a great diatribe on stupidity and the necessity of driving with oneís effing eyes effing open as I leapt from the car. My wife tells me the look of fury on my face was alarming; like Joe Hockey being confronted by someone on minimum wage.
Most of my bluster was blunted, however, by the look of contrition and confusion on by the look of contrition and confusion on the face of the middle-aged mum climbing out of a battered red Mitsubishi Magna, her hands up in ďdonít shootĒ fashion.
Something about her, and her car, told me this wasnít her first arse-ramming. Swallowing my bile, briefly, I turned to my Subaruís rear flanks for that horrible moment of drinking in the damageÖ and was stunned beyond belief.
Not a dent, not a scratch, not even a smear of her red paint.
How is this possible? I know modern cars have deformable bumpers designed to magically pop back out after low-speed impacts, but I thought they were a bit like fairies Ė nice in theory, but a bit thin on the ground. Now Iím a believer, and my belief that the Forester is one tough-as-teak tank is only stronger.
Forget the Hilux, all hail my Unbreakable Subaru Forester.
SEE HERE Lack of rear-end damage did little to support Corbyís outrageous whiplash claim
IíM REALLY starting to love this car, except for the diesel rattle, which still bothers me. Itís better than diesels used to be, but thereís just no joy in it. When you put your foot down in a car you want a happy sound, as well as a surge forward, but a diesel like this only moans about the effort. Still, our long-ish journey saw us dipping as low as 6.3L/100km on the highway, so itís a long time between dealing with diesel fumes at the servo.
Date acquired: April 2015 Price as tested: $35,490 This month: 949km @ 9.0L/100km Overall: 2094km @ 9.3L/100km km