if my car could talk

If my car could talk it would have a wheezy old person voice, but also I think sound both jolly and alternately anxious (due to the number of near misses, clear hits and then subsequent happy mendings). I'd like to hear from my car on some finer points. Like whether or not it likes me (yes, I think so, after all it's still with me) and if perhaps it thinks I am a good driver? The obvious answer would be a cautious 'yes' since it has little in the way of comparison. But should it glance about and compare it's self with other more shiny cars on the roads it may well wonder if it's shabby state of affairs is a reflection on my driving and care.

The car and I (but mostly the car) hit a badger once (only the car and I lived to tell the tale). And a cyclist: I waved a cheery 'whoops! Sorry about that!' As he wobbled to his feet, and seeing he had done so, and thus must surely be uninjured I swooped off having many errands to fulfill (primarily, that day, my driving test, which astonishingly I failed). We have hit many curbs with the front left wheel, the car and I, which have been replaced in rather fast succession. Pot holes, shamoles. Ten a penny. The tape deck and I are on friendly terms; I give it a good whack, it gives me a bit of music (admittedly only the one ever-playing stuck-fast cassette of Rod Stewart). The clock doesn't work, but then, what's time anyway? A rather bourgeois construction, limits us all. Certainly not linear, more of a spiral. Which is a good thing with my car. It enjoys a good run around the curves and hairpin bends of it's home roads, in it's own good time (which I have to say thanks to my thrifty foot is rather fast).

It is currently sporting a new fetching decorative effect thanks to Esmé, her artistic endeavours to please us all and a handful of stones from the drive way. After catching a glimpse of the new inspired body work I thanked Esmé very pleasantly (whilst telling her there was a fine line between street art and vandalism and that she must stick to our car only for such things, nice as they were), after all compared with the other current look of plastic fender strip hanging off (no amount of super glue will hold it in place) it's hardly that noticeable. We have a fun way of locking the car, it provides much needed exercise for me and involves using only the passenger side lock after They Beauty experimented in pulling out the driver lock. It slots nicely back in place but no amount of fiddling will persuade it to actually work. No bother. My car blends into hedges and things, is a veritable camouflage car (complete with a rusty branch like effect along it's vertices's) potential thieves are rendered blind. The utter shock when we recently had it's MOT. New number plates. That was it! I laughed. It felt rather like putting a sticking plaster over a hole in a shoe. This did mean that a friend pulled into the driveway (ok, it was dark I should add) and seeing her lights beam off my new plates, she asked did I actually have a new car? No way! Why?! I lent up against my old familiar in a friendly way, but had to step back, as I didn't want to unbalance it.



On the whole, I like it. I recently was able to use the boot. For months it has been a jam packed home to several charity shop bags of clothing waiting for new leases of life, old wellies, odd bits of muddy clothing and broken kites. My dh cleared it all out, sorted, dumped and shopped it all. I gaped in astonishment, my boot is HUGE! I could fit, actual shopping in there! Usually it's crammed around all of our feet. He also emptied out the rubbish that litters our feet below the shopping line level. We also were surprised to find little clean car mats there. And now when I drive along, I don't need to kick things from under my pedals. The cassettes (should I ever unstick old trusty Rod) are all handily sorted in my car door. Which works! (The door that is) Did I mention the utter laugh out loud fun of the time I started driving and realised not only was my door open but it wouldn't close! I pulled over and tried to shut it, nope. Locks frozen in place. I knew I'd have to wait out the thaw and being in a bit of a rush I simply drove with one hand keeping the door held shut. Fun changing gears, I had not laughed so much in ages. Screamed really. My dh didn't hoover it out. I might get around to doing that one day *shrug* I have been meaning to since we moved here. The pilfered and scattered hay here and there not only provides extra insulation for all of us come the winter months, additionally it provides little nests for the mice that live in the car. This I know as a log of goat butter from a fallen shopping bag showed little nibble marks when I retrieved in the next day.

Our car is such fun, the children and I all prefer it to my dh's pristine remote controlled super computer one with gadgets galore and probably the ability to control satellites or something (you'd think, from the number of buttons). Nope. In my car, one car relax (and not be worried by which button to press for what - it's a simple on/off type of car). Shrug off the muddy boots, toss down the banana skin without a care. It all adds to the charm. You can really live in it. Suspiciously I have to concede that not many people accept my charming offers of lifts, but then it usually is rather full (hey the boot! now that's a space!). A dog would by right at home there. My dh has a stony face when he is forced to be a passenger. But we like it, it likes us. In it I am the best of drivers. I am rather glad my car can't talk though. Because it might not feel quite the same way about me as I do about it....... But at least it requires less care, than say, a horse. And is considerably a faster mode of transport (alas, no warmer though than travelling in such a carriage as this one below). You can't quite have it all. This I realise. I have traded the glamourous clean look for a messy, who cares (wins?) approach. It works.