I AM in the throes of car hunting and I have made a huge mistake -- I have told the Folks.

Ever since I casually mentioned that I want to off-load my battered Peugeot 106 for something a tad more modern, I have been pestered on a daily basis. Sometimes twice in the same day.

I have, in their eyes at least, reverted to the helpless infant whom they nourished and nurtured during the formative years.

Despite being 28 years old (29 this year), holding down a responsible job and my own home, (with all the adult baggage that comes with it), the Folks feel I need their help.

And they are determined to give it to me.

Initially it was not a problem. Years of practice have made me adept at the art of looking as if I'm listening when in truth, I'm not hearing a word being said.

So when they were banging on about the virtues of spending that little bit more to ensure "trouble-free motoring", I was thinking what I'd look like with a beard (John Lennon circa Instant Karma mind, nothing too ZZ Top).

I'd just throw in the odd "mmm" now and again to fool them into think that I was actually listening.

It's a tried and tested method but even that approach is becoming futile against the force of the Folks.

The incessant bothering is like Chinese Torture. Every time a car advert pops on the telly, the phone rings minutes later. It's the Folks asking if I saw it, and what do I think?

Or they will ring up asking me if I have been to see any cars yet, when only the day before I had told them I had not. Every time I hear a phone go now I shudder.

I appreciate that age may breed wisdom, and they have entered the car market many more times than I, being as I am, still on my second car.

But when either of them buy a car they are invariably brand new, and well out of the price bracket I can afford -- or indeed intend -- to pay. I am just not into cars the way they are, and my problem is compounded by the Big Sis and her hubby Billy Boy.

They too follow the mantra that new is best. And they spend countless hours to make sure it is kept in the pristine condition it was when they rolled it out of the showroom.

They spend their weekends polishing the exterior, vacuuming the interior, and basically cleaning any last bit of character out of it.

When the Big Sis got her new car recently she couldn't wait to ring me and tell me all about it. I just said "mmm" a lot.

Although I will be shelling out that little bit more for a new car, I do so out of necessity. I need a car that is reliable and actually will ensure me trouble free motoring.

I'm sick of not knowing whether it will start or not in the morning and, once running, whether it will stay that way.

And I'm fed up of the constant paying-out when things go wrong.

Ideally I would like to be seen driving around in a battered BMW. Something that has a bit of history where every bruise and scar tells a story.

A car that has had many owners and, if it could speak, would tell of its adventures and the sights it has seen.

But the practical side of my nature dictates that such a wish will not happen.

Instead I will soon be driving around in a cold, clean, straight-down-the-line chunk of metal, designed by the very people that own similar cars and keep them in pristine condition.

Although it will be trustworthy, it will have no appeal.

If it could speak, it would surely bore me.