Recently I have been back on the train a lot, and have been reminded of a phenomenon I had largely forgotten. One of those strange ritual behaviours between the female and the male of the species that puzzles, even troubles me. So let me set the scene: Join me on platform one at my local station as I await the London train early one summer morning as the rush hour begins to gather pace. As an avid people watcher I have plenty of material to work with in such situations; travel provides a fascinating insight into one's fellow humans. The platform regulars are instantly recognisable, as is their pecking order. But, just beyond the tracks, is activity in the north car park that has reminded me of a, to me rather sexist, behaviour that really should have died out in these enlightened times. A car will sweep into the car park, pull up near the station entry and from the driver's side will emerge Mr Businessman, suited and booted for his day at the office. From the passenger side will emerge, well, for the purpose of this story, let's call her Mrs Businessman, and she is dressed for doing stuff around the house. Mr B will take his briefcase from the back and depart for his train, and Mrs B drives the car back to the 4 bed, 2 rec, 3.75 bath or whatever. Now there are variations on the level of human contact in these vignettes, but most are pretty perfunctory at best, but one stands out: The Volvo estate is brought to a stop with some authority. Mr B emerges, takes his briefcase and strides away without a glance at his companion. She walks round the front of the car, seeming to distance herself from him as much as she can, and departs with a decent touch of wheel spin. It is a shame that she had to pause to adjust the driver's seat and that the car is front wheel drive. If she had been quicker and had had rear wheel drive she could have sprayed him with gravel such was the violence of her leaving the scene. What domestic strife had preceded this journey? What was the atmosphere in the car along the way? These are the joys of people watching, speculating on events. But I digress. The point here is that this ritual, something that I have seen for as long as I can remember, still goes on. OK, it is none of my business how other people live their lives, but this behaviour is so alien to me and seems so insulting to the ladies, although they seem quite happy to accept it. I would never have dreamt of behaving like this with any of the ladies I have shared my life with since I flew the nest over 40 years ago. I know I'm not unique here as the guy who lives opposite is equally as happy to have his wife drive him as he is to drive her, but he and I do seem to be in a very small minority judging by my observations. Maybe all of this is covered in the Handbook of Inter-Gender Relationships, I don't know. Perhaps the ladies concerned are quite happy to have things this way. Maybe it means that they don't have their driving criticised by some chauvinistic oaf. Possibly one of them might read this and enlighten me. I hope that they do, because I would love to know. Whilst I'll never find out what the story behind Mr & Mrs B in their Volvo was, my natural curiosity is aroused and do I like to learn something new every day.