I had the most mind-blowing date with a 39-year-old. She is gorgeous, sensual and intimate, and just being with her was the most extraordinary experience for me. By the time we parted, I was yearning for more.
She also has a 1.6-litre 110bhp engine and a 4-speed manual gearbox.
Of course, she felt like an old car at first. The door clanged shut behind me, the cabin trim looked ready to fall apart, and every bit of switchgear seemed spindly and brittle by today’s standards.
But move off and the age of the car was the last thing on my mind. The engine, unfettered by any manner of catalyst or emission-control, rasped, blipped and blared in response to every twitch of my throttle foot, and it delivered the go to match. With so little weight to shift (810kg), there was instant urge available at any revs, even from almost idling speed.
Amazingly for an ancient 8-valve 4-cylinder, it continued to sparkle as the revs piled on, even up to 6000rpm and beyond. Even by today’s madcap pocket-rocket standards, the old hot Golf felt quick. The way it hurtled down the straights, a 0-100km/h time in the low 8sec range would be entirely believable (officially, it’s credited with 9.2sec).
My progress was aided by the sweet, slick gearshift. The gearlever action wasn’t super crisp and it was a bit long of throw, but the shift was light and very quick, and there was somehow more “feel” in the actual shift action than on modern hatchbacks.
Nothing beats that wonderful steering – unassisted but still perfectly manageable. The unfiltered stream of feedback that flowed through its chunky rim as I stroked the car along and the way it weighted up deliciously as I wound on more lock were fantastic.
All of which encouraged me to push the GTI ever harder. I discovered immense levels of grip that were impossible to reconcile with the car’s skinny 175/70 R13 tyres.
So addictive was the experience that my short drive turned into an hour-long, adrenalin-fuelled charge through the hills. It was mind-blowing. 
