By Owen Hunter Jenkins
Last week I said goodbye to an old friend.
For the past two years, I’ve spent most of my life driving a car. I clocked up a mileage that any trucker worth his salt would be proud of.
That’s around the world four times.
Or halfway to the moon.
Or a journey like this each month:
I worked for a software company. One who counted the pennies and didn’t give a fuck about their workforce;
Anyone was dispensable.
Conversions were King.
You sold or you were out.
The long and the short of it was that I spent a lot of time in my motor. I think I’ve seen every motorway and been to every service station once. Enough to know that I wanted out.
As most of my time was spent getting from A to B and back again, I needed to forge an exit strategy mid-drive.
I’d always thought I was creative, as I’m sure is the same for all of you reading this, but it was when I found adverting that something clicked. With this game, it seems that an idea can live in any home. Within any medium.
So from that point I set about finding out as much as I could.
I turned the car into an office.
I schooled myself through podcasts, TED talks episodes, lectures, audiobooks and adverts (watched peripherally).
Bill Bernbach led me to George Lois, who led me to John Hegarty, who led me to Dave Trott, who led me to Rory Sutherland, who led me to Marc, who led me to the school.
When Marc gave me an interview to SCA, I devised, practised and recorded my pitch whilst driving.
So it’s with a heavy heart that I say goodbye to my old mate the motor.
But still, I won’t miss you.