VALENTINE’S Day is almost upon us, and if you’re struggling to find a date, why not try posing in front of your car?

An experiment conducted by private number plate firm Click4Reg revealed that this can bring success in the online dating game.

The company created male and female Tinder profiles and, keeping the same personal details, changed only one thing - the presence of a car. The photos including a car gained 25 per cent more matches than the same profile with no car.

I very much doubt whether this would work for me. Were I to become single I can’t see me leaning nonchalantly against my ancient VW Polo with its all-too-obvious, amateur attempts at covering up scrapes and scratches.

Would I have to declare that the rear left-side door is stuck fast, that there’s an occasional knocking sound from the underbelly and that the seats are stained from years of ferrying stuff to the tip?

Would all that put blokes off? I imagine so.

The ideal car for both women and men looking to get matches was a BMW i8 which, having Googled it, looks as comfortable as a dodgem and totally impractical. It may be sleek, sporty and fast, but it’s far too low - I’d need help getting out - and is there any room for shopping?

The world is changing fast, and with it the dating scene. When I was in my twenties, singles found dates via the newspaper Lonely Hearts section. They ran something like this: ‘Petite brunette female seeks tall Richard Gere lookalike for fun nights out, GSOH essential.’ There wasn’t even a photograph.

A GSOH - good sense of humour - was always deemed vital and was certainly at the top of my wish list when I was dating. My husband did have one when we met but it’s been eroded over the tumultuous years we have spent together, and now rarely surfaces.

We met at work and cars did not come into the reckoning. He couldn’t even drive when I met him and, although he now has a licence (passed first time, he always reminds me) he rarely gets behind the wheel and has never owned a car.

Had Tinder been around then, he would have probably drawn a blank.

I actually like men who are disinterested in cars. Decades ago, when I was in the market for love, a bloke with an old banger would have appealed far more than a top of the range Merc. My first boyfriend had a clapped out ‘Flintstonesque’ mini which my dad called a ‘death trap’ after noticing the hole in the floor in the passenger footwell. The thrill of the risk endeared me to him more.

My next relationship was with a man who owned a car whose windows were stuck half open. The gap was covered with cardboard. I didn’t mind then, but I think I would now.

Were I to enter the world of dating aged almost 60, I would not only find the system irrevocably changed, with online matching and more detailed profiles, but my needs too.

Although I wouldn’t want a petrol head, I would actively seek a man with a decent car: an estate (handy for the tip) with a comfy interior, a working heater and doors that always open. A car that would be unlikely to break down in the rain on the M1.

I’d be looking for someone who could provide me with the sort of comforts you need when you grow old. Someone to pick me up in his well-maintained motor, take me on days out to the coast and buy me fish and chips. Were I on Tinder I’d be insisting ‘photo of man optional, picture of car essential.’