Very recently I went for a few drinks with a beautiful woman who intimidated me slightly. It turns out I had nothing to worry about; the conversation flowed and the evening went swimmingly.

Fortunately I’m not here to tell you about my evening. Well, at least any specific part of my evening. The lady in question knew I was a car journalist, and this always concerns me. The issue is that most women simply glaze over when the subject of cars comes up, in the same way that I glaze over whenever anyone mentions anything to do with Grey’s Anatomy.

Inevitably the subject of motor vehicles cropped up and after a little while, I was paid the most extraordinary compliment: she said she absolutely loved the way I spoke about cars. And I took her seriously; she’d only had one and a half Savanna Lites at that point.

In my five years of working professionally with cars, I like to think I’ve developed a way of chatting to the opposite sex about the things. Sure, if you’re with your mates, go nuts. But if you are a bit of a petrol head – I don’t really like that term but it will have to do – you’re going to need to approach the subject with a certain amount of delicacy.

Here then, are a few tips I think might help. Please bear in mind that I am probably guilty of contravening a few of these at some stage, which is why I know they are problematic.

1.

Do not put stickers of air-filter and suspension companies down the side of your car. The only other people who recognise the logo of the brand that made your subwoofer are morons like yourself. Everybody else on Earth does not give the remotest fuck. It’s like putting a Dairy Belle sticker on your fridge to let people know you like their yoghurt. By all means, modify your car if you must, but don’t advertise. Stop it, it looks daft and people will assume you have an STD.

2.

Do not make sound effects when describing a driving experience. People are generally aware of what an internal combustion engine sounds like. In fact, they probably arrived using one as a means of propulsion. If you must explain the magnificent sound of a Maserati V8, use words.

3.

Do not attempt to demonstrate what the car/tyres/rev needle/engine was doing by using hand gestures. A particularly cringe-worthy action is describing a wheelspin by pointing your hands at each other and rotating your index fingers in sync. Again, words are your friends here.

4.

If you do get to drive your companion anywhere, don’t be a twat. Nobody likes a boring or nervous driver, but as far as I’m aware, women enjoy arriving home alive far more than your shoddy handbrake turns, wheelspins, robot-to-robot dashes and high speed cornering through suburbs. Unless you’re spending the evening with someone who’s dream is to grace the pages of Speed and Sound, keep the showboating to a minimum.

5.

Unless she asks, avoid talking about your car while in your car. She doesn’t care that it’s actually the 2.0 litre and not the 1.4, or that it came with a limited edition gearknob, or that you once took down a Porsche on the highway. On that note, competitive driving is for racetracks. Unless you are a racing driver, who races cars in return for money, no women are impressed that your Corsa can “run with a Lambo”. It probably can’t anyway.

6.

This question will come up: “So what’s your dream car?” That’s not a bad thing, everybody tends to ask that, and it can be fun. I personally like to have two answers here: a money-is-no-object car, and one that I’ve actually got my eye on right now. No one particularly cares or will remember what you answer, so go wild, but at least have something interesting to say about the thing, other than “Oh, it’s just so amazing.”

7.

As we know, vintage is big. If the lady in question is wearing something that resembles the curtains at your gran’s holiday cottage, it’s safe to assume she likes old things, and vintage cars are no exception. A dead-cert for bonus points here will be the Volkswagen Karmann Ghia, an achingly pretty little thing from the ’50s which brogue-owners literally dribble over. See picture.

The thing is, it’s okay to like cars. Although, I worry because they’re taking  such a frankly unfair portion of blame for killing polar bears that they might be falling out of favour with the general populace. They’re also greasy, expensive, and often designed and purchased as nothing more than a transport appliance.

Having a love for cars somehow seems more coarse than loving art, theatre, sailing, photography or fashion. But it doesn’t have to be. As Jeremy Clarkson has pointed out, Rowan Atkinson is a huge petrol head. So is Ralph Lauren (fashion magnate), Michael Gambon (possibly greatest living actor) and Joanna Lumley (Absolutely Fabulous). And I can guarantee that none of those individuals have ever imitated a squealing tyre in polite company.

I love cars for the sheer brilliance of the engineering, the drama and beauty of the design, the feeling of acceleration and the idea that these are machines that can and will take you anywhere you might want to be, which is surely the ultimate freedom.

I honestly believe my suggestions here will help us car lovers garner a better reputation. Used properly, they will prevent those I’m-still-listening-but-I’d-rather-not facial expressions, dead-end conversations and embarrassing dinner moments when nobody at the table knows or cares about anything you’re saying.

At the very least, you will help make talking about what I do infinitely less nerve-racking.

With many thanks to Gavin Williams for his rather brilliant contributions.