I got rid of my last car five years ago, while living in London. I’d had my trusty wee Peugeot 206 for 10 years, and had a certain affection for the matching front dents I couldn’t be bothered to fix, the cassette deck that allowed me to sing along to my teenage mix tapes with abandon.

In the years since, I’ve hired a few cars to go on holiday - always the smallest, the cheapest – but haven’t done much driving.

You can imagine my concern, then, when I saw the vehicle that had been provided for me to do a recent work assignment.

The first hint that I was about to have a whole new driving experience was when I picked up the key. I say key. It was actually a tiny plastic console with buttons on it. There was no stick of metal attached. I was confused. Then I saw the car itself sitting on the concourse: a big, sleek Japanese limousine that looked like it should be driven by someone in a peaked cap. My stomach lurched as I imagined parallel parking this thing. Before the 206, I’d had a Fiat Panda. Remember those? Enough said.

I cagily approached the car, pressed a button and carefully maneuvered myself into the driver’s seat, surveying the unfamiliar dashboard in front of me, with its “digital communications and entertainment centre” and button (!) to start the engine. There didn’t appear to be a handbrake. Another button! Was there anything I recognised? Oh, hang on, a steering wheel. And a gear box. Three pedals on the floor. Calm down. I started to understand how the elderly must feel when they first get a smart phone.

I won’t lie, despite having had a driving licence for more than 20 years, it took me an hour to work out the basics and drum up the courage to set off.

For the first couple of miles I didn’t dare go over 20mph. I stalled at a couple of traffic lights. Other drivers shook their fists. But by the time I stopped panicking, made it on to the motorway and cautiously pressed down on the accelerator, this big boy’s car started to come into its own.

Two hours later I was cruising smoothly through the beautiful Borders countryside, surveying all before me from the comfort of my lumbar-supported seat. I felt like the queen of the road. Later, the dashboard told me exactly how much space I had to do my reverse park. Clever car. Cassette deck? No, but I suppose you can’t have everything.