Coltrane Robbie - Robbie Coltranes B-Road Britain

The hour is late, the bottles empty and our bellies full. Afterdinnerconversation is turning to the marvels of the modern car a subject closer to many men's hearts than the traditional trioof wine, women and song when I have one of those unexpectedthoughts commonly called a brainwave.

The glory of modern cars, my dining companions and I haveagreed, is that you can step inside one, put your foot down andtravel from Glasgow to London in five and a half hours,listening to all your favourite music on your iPod without everhaving to speak to another soul.

But haven't you ever thought: isn't that frustratingly dull?

Am I the only one who sits in the sound-proofed cocoon ofhis car, gazing at passing church spires and signposts withfunny names and wondering what goes on over there?

As we contemplate Britain's motoring culture, I can't helpfeeling something's been lost in the fifty years since the firstBritish motorway was built. The need for speed has hardenedthe nation's arteries with six-lane tarmac and shut off anyexperience of the real country behind mile upon mile ofhard shoulder. Maybe I'm a particularly nosey bastard,but I have a hankering for more local culture than I've foundin the congealed offerings of a motorway service station.

Fortified with good wine and food, I declare boldly to myfriends that I am the man to bypass the tourist fast-track, toventure off the motorways and take stock of our nation and itspeople, to unearth the impressive, the imposing, the unconventional,the traditions we cling on to and the new oneswe've created. And maybe in the process, I say, I'll discoverwhat we've lost, gained and fought to retain since the late1950s.

The next day, when I've slept off tiredness and a wee hangover,I find myself still gripped by the idea. Fortunately, one ofmy dining buddies the previous night was Hamish Barbour, oneof my oldest friends and a television producer of no smallrenown. Some of the best projects I've worked on started overdinner with Hamish. With him, I set about researching ouridea. The more we look at it, the more I want to cast off theshackles of modern travel, where the destination is all-important,and delve back to the time when the journey waseverything. Wilfully driving as far off the beaten track aspossible, I decide I'll venture along a route few people wouldthink of taking these days.

On this journey I want to discover for myself what it meansto be British. Although not strongly patriotic (I always thoughtSamuel Johnson got it right when he said it was the last refugeof the scoundrel), I am fascinated about what exactly makes usBritish. After all, we've been a multicultural society forhundreds of years and I'm a classic example. AlthoughScottish, my father's roots go back to Ireland hence the darkhair and my mother's ancestors were Huguenot clay workerswho escaped religious persecution in France in the seventeenthcentury. So for ages we Brits have been assimilatingcharacteristics and customs from other cultures, therebymaking us what we are today. But what exactly is that? In myquest to find out, the first step is to decide the route.

Most of my work is in London, I live near Glasgow and it'sa trip I've made umpteen times, so a journey that takes me adifferent way from the usual M1M6A74 northbound comboseems most appropriate. Meandering satnav-free alongB-roads, I want to rediscover the real Britain that has beenbypassed, orbited and forgotten since the advent of themotorway. As long as I keep heading in a vaguely northerlydirection, I'll let curiosity and the B-road network lead me thelong way home.

Next up is the car. It's no secret that I have a passion formachinery and anything with an engine. The bigger, the better,as far as I'm concerned. Ships, aircraft, tractors, trucks, motorcyclesand cars I love them all. The thing that especiallyfascinates me about cars is that they conform so obviously tonational characteristics. They're stacked with cultural clues.With their walnut fascia, leather upholstery and understatedstyling, British cars look as though they were conceived in agents' club in St James's and, in the case of the classic Bentleys,as if they were built by a blacksmith and a genius. German carshave beautiful engineering and are extremely efficient, but theirtotally functional interiors are, in my opinion, quite unattractive.French cars are very cleverly designed and original,but quite quirky and overcomplicated. My particular fancy isclassic American cars and I can think of nothing morerewarding than restoring one of those beauties turning arusting heap of metal into something that can pass its MOTand carry five people from Glasgow to Edinburgh in style andcomfort. Some people get their kicks climbing mountains, butI get mine in a pair of overalls, bent over an engine in a garage.There's nothing better.