Let’s face it: those of us in this room belong to a religion, a cult, if you like. It’s not a blessing of the fleet kind of religion; it's a nature-worshipping religion, a pagan religion, a mystery cult. The deepest mystery of all - is, of course - where does all the money go? Yes - our totems do demand the occasional sacrifice of the fatted wallet. But what do they offer in return?

My partner is convinced that my demanding mistress has a mind of her own. When told the engine needed removal, she said, “Of course! She wants new Bling; her big birthday is coming up!” After letting that statement settle into its rightful place on the astral plane, I informed her of my horsepower foible. “Safety First,” was the cut through response.