It occurs to me, as I sign a scrap of paper, swipe my credit card and hold out a palm in a slightly scabby rental booth on Staten Island, that this probably constitutes world record levels of irresponsibility. Short of free guns with every Happy Meal or spiking the punch at a school disco, this is the situation statistically most likely to end in disaster. For just a few hundred dollars, Hertz will hand over the keys to a Shelby tuned Mustang, with more power than a Ferrari 812 Superfast, to any old Billy that walks through the door. Today, that Billy is me. I grasp the keys and make a bolt for it before the lady behind the desk realises she’s made some horrible clerical error.
You know the old saying “don’t be gentle, it’s a rental?” Sound advice that… if you’re lumped with a knackered supermini in the hire car lottery, less so
