I admired everything about Dame Jenni Murray, from that wonderful voice to that gimlet stare of hers – and above all the way she approached her craft with an open mind and an honest heart. She was a hero of mine.For young female journalists such as myself trying to forge careers in the Nineties and Noughties, she was an icon.She – like others of her generation – hacked their way fearlessly through the thicket of sexism, paving a way for people like me to follow.At a time when women were being pilloried for wanting to 'have it all' (aka daring to have the same opportunities as men), she was fiercely defensive of the right for women to pursue a career and utterly unapologetic for it. She never said it would be easy – but she always defended a woman's right to choose.When she died suddenly and very unexpectedly earlier this year, I was devastated. She hadn't been in the best of health, it's true – but there was nothing to indicate that she was close to death. What on earth had happened?Dame Jenni was such an icon, such a trailblazer, especially for women in broadcasting and journalism, the tributes naturally poured in. But a veil of mystery surrounded the actual circumstances of her death. Her funeral at Golders Green Crematorium came and went without fanfare, and with very few colleagues from her illustrious career in attendance – not through choice, but on the request of her family. She was survived by her husband David, to whom she remained married but did not live with, and her two sons, Charlie and Ed.Only David was present – via videolink – at the inquest yesterday which finally determined the truth about her death. It was a tragic accident: she was at the wheel of her beloved Mini convertible at around a quarter to eight on the evening of March 4 when, dazzled by oncoming headlights, she collided with two stationary vehicles. She was able to get herself out of the car – but had sustained several broken ribs and a collapsed lung. At a time when women were being pilloried for wanting to 'have it all', Dame Jenni Murray fiercely defended the right for women to pursue a careerShe was taken to hospital, but her condition began to deteriorate. She developed bronchopneumonia as a result of her injuries, finally passing away on March 12.Dame Jenni was a fiercely independent woman, and nothing encapsulated that independent spirit more than her passion for driving. In her later years she suffered from mobility problems, and as a result loved that Mini of hers. It was her ticket to freedom, her trusty steed when her legs failed her.Less than a year before her accident, she wrote in her Daily Mail column that 'Nothing would cause me greater grief than saying goodbye to my car. My precious little Mini convertible is the only thing that's kept me going through the past few years of pain, loneliness and depression.' Without it, she wrote, 'how would I nip round the corner to get my nails done or down to town for a haircut?''How would I get to Barnet for lunch with one son, or Bournemouth to see the other?'It's a sentiment that will resonate with so many older drivers. Her car was her lifeline, and as a blue badge holder it took her everywhere.She loved the freedom and romance of driving with the top down, the wind in her hair, a plethora of possibilities on the road ahead.As a woman who always determined her own destiny, always trod her own path, it's easy to see why Dame Jenni treasured being behind the wheel. Yet by her own admission she was not always an exemplary driver.She was not reckless – far from it, in fact if anything she was a little over-cautious. 'If on occasion I pull away slowly at the lights,' she wrote, 'I hear the furious hooting of horns behind me. I stick my head out of the window and screech obscenities that are far too awful to repeat in a family newspaper. I love the sheer astonishment on their faces when they hear the words coming from a 'little old lady'.'I love the idea of some hapless boy racer coming face-to-face with the ire of Dame Jenni.Nevertheless, she was caught three times for speeding – 'but always for going only a tiny amount over the limit' – and had lately suffered one or two unfortunate prangs, including a double puncture when she had been driven off the road by a motorcyclist. But she always seemed to emerge unscathed.Perhaps if she had been less stubbornly independent, she might still be with us. Then again, compliant surrender was never in her nature.I hope wherever she is, she's driving far and fast, the 'warm wind in her hair', a world of endless possibilities ahead. I only wish I had got the chance to say goodbye. She will be forever missed.