My worst nightmare, which I get every two or three years, originated, I believe, when some well-meaning adult took me at the age of three for a ride in a fairground bumper-car. The nightmare consists of an endless, helpless ride, culminating in a crash from which, of course, I wake. As it was, when I came to, I thought that I was asleep and dreaming.I rolled back in my seat and watched the landscape hurtle towards me, in a state of dreamy euphoria. I was, positively enjoying my nightmare, quite sorry to think that in the end I'd have to wake.The awakening came rather sooner than I expected. "Coming around, are you?""Ummm," I croaked through the wide piece of surgical plaster which bound my, jaws together."I'm so glad to hear it.. Do you, know, my father - who was a complete megalomaniac - used to make my mother go out with him on his rounds. He was always slightly drunk, and a reckless driver at best. She was sick with terror every time . . . I used to promise myself that once, just once, I'd take him out and scare him sick. But of course I never got the chance. He did it once too often and killed them both. Still, it's some compensation to do it now to you."