Psmith, Journalist — P.G. Wodehouse

"My father," Psmith had confided to Mike, meeting him at the station in the family motor on the Monday, "is a man of vast but volatile brain. He has not that calm, dispassionate outlook on life which marks your true philosopher, such as myself. I --" "I say," interrupted Mike, eyeing Psmith's movements with apprehension, "you aren't going to drive, are you?"