Being a back-seat or front-passenger-seat driver is usually a big no-no. Few of us like it when people suggest we are not doing our best, least of all when it comes to driving. But there are circumstances when a little nudge here, an ‘ahem’ there – and a ‘mind that articulated lorry coming towards us’ now and then, do come in handy.

I recently understood the importance of back-seat-driving when my uncle drove me, my mother, her dog and two cats from Devon to Newcastle. The situation was already stressful, what with my mother about to move into a new house miles away, and with the constant meowing of the cats. These two feline passengers had been enjoying a very quiet, relaxed life on Dartmoor, before they were suddenly bundled into their respective pet carriers and placed in the hatchback   for 10 hours.

But the cats were the least of our worries. My uncle has been living in Germany for the last 30 years, and has developed some rather un-British driving habits. For example, the idea of a national or motorway speed limit is alien to him (in Germany autobahns have no limit). Either that, or the cats’ constant meows were like some kind of audio version of water torture, spurring him on with no regard for his former country’s laws. A not-so-subtle glance in the direction of the speed dial, however, was enough to keep him in check.

His other extremely un-British habit was driving on the right (as in the incorrect) side of the road. This recurring misdemeanour took some rather more vocal interruptions from yours truly, but they did the trick.

After a whole day of travelling, we finally made it across a huge tract of the UK, and mostly in one piece – that is if you don’t count the broken pieces of my uncle’s mind, or those of the two cats.

I learned that sometimes it’s good to be a back-seat driver. I also learned that if I ever drive in my uncle’s corner of Germany, I’ll be taking out some serious European breakdown insurance. You never know who you might bump into.