"Yeah, fair bit," he said, "unless my daughters aren't using their Minis, then I'll usually drive one of those instead."
But so too is the appeal of something small, nimble; in which you'll get let out of junctions, you can fit in parking spaces, pop over speed bumps without cracking £1,700 of carbon fibre, and make discreet brisk progress without being called a **** every 12 minutes.
Given unlimited resource I'd love to think that I'd commute every day in a McLaren F1, but the truth of it is that after about a week I suspect I'd slide into a Volkswagen Golf R instead, because it would make parking outside the Co-Op easier.
And I don't think I'm alone. The Volkswagen Golf R is probably today's commonest third/fourth/eighth car. I know of a surprising number of people who'll walk past their own £300,000 cars to get into a £30,000 Volkswagen. But I understand why entirely.
It could be that they just haven't thought about this yet. They're only now waking up to the fact that extremely wealthy people would rather be seen - or, rather, not be seen - in an SUV that costs a six-figure sum than they would a conspicuous sports car, after all. How far down the automotive food chain could a similar theory hold?
People will pay £100,000 for a modified Land Rover Defender. David Brown asks around the same for a 'remastered' Mini, and because you and I can see the effort, craftsmanship and detail that has gone into it, some of us will pay it.
But these are, ultimately, playthings. Is there room, then, for a more bespoke, tailored, quite quick but still ultimately incredibly usable and reliable modern small car? One which, yes, demands quite a lot of money, I wonder?
And then I remember the Aston Martin Cygnet and think, nah, probably not.