To get out of the end of my road, you have to edge up a slight hill on to the main road. But there are high brick walls either side, so you have to be very careful and really creep slowly.
At a rough estimate, after six months of living there, I reckon I have performed that manoeuvre in more than 50 different cars, and I cannot think of any car it is more awkward in than the Mondeo, especially when it is cold.
And every morning I have had to scale this summit, brow furrowed, tongue stuck out the side of my mouth in concentration.
More than a couple of times I have spluttered to an embarrassing stop.
The reason is that the clutch is snappier than Anne Widdecombe. It has been commented on before – colleague Trevor Gelken reckons he ruined his motoring journalist credentials in front of a pack of hacks after a similar clutch-based calamity.
But once you are on the move, swamped in the golden glow of relief, the Mondeo is a blast. In fifth gear on a motorway the common rail engine is fantastic.
The response if you put your foot down is instant and urgent.
But I'm still not a great fan of the seats – the cushion seems to fall away under my thighs and seems more suited to shorter drivers.
And if I had to drive 20,000 miles or more in the Mondeo, I am not sure about the 18-inch alloys our test car wears. They look great and the car has masses of grip with its low profile tyres, but the trade off is that it unsettles the ride, which then feeds through the steering wheel.
For long distance work a Mondeo from the Ghia side of the range on 17-inch wheels would be a calmer option.