Wednesday, 3 August 2011

You are your car

A few months ago I wrote about the pain I was having with my car. Or was that the pain of a car. For a few weeks I was a petrol head. I could have been a guest presenter on Top Gear. I knew about mpg, torque, models, makes, the pros the cons, which cars had been on autotrader the longest, the finance deal,  the works. Just get  me the fur lined sheepskin jacket, the jingle jangle gold bracelets and I was your man, or woman.

This search had a main criteria of reliability at the top of the list and cheap to maintain. Yawn. I'm going to sleep already. My Renault Megane Dynamique - Shake that ass baby - had reached the end of its 7 year life span and spent it's 8th year with spiralling costs and electric faults a plenty. It might have been a diesel but it was turbo and a top of the range model. It had all the knobs on and in its hey day was pleasure to drive. So in desperation I ended up with my new(ish) car. The Ford Focus. It fitted my criteria and price band and here I am with a 07 plate. Petrol. That was my first mistake. Petrol, what was I thinking, this car does even less to the gallon the French gas guzzler before it. My monthly fuel bills have rocketed at a time when I need to cut back. I now drive like an old man and am thinking about getting the hat to go with my new driving style in an effort to save petrol money.Friends have associated me with my French oo la la for so long that they look surprised when the see my silver fox, actually more of a silver trilby.  Never associated you with one of those, they say. So what does your car say about really? Is it really a reflection of your personality, what is it saying about my lifestyle? I am actually beginning to panic now. My Ford is like some alter ego ready to take over my life if the real me should choose to opt out. Flat hat, apple turnover shoes, hairy legs and baggy cords. I have them all somewhere in my 12ft wardrobe

Of my car of choice. Of the car that is so much more me. Alfa Romeo Guilietta I love you. We were meant to be together. We would fit each other beautifully. Even down the temperamental bit. There is one on my street that I have been loitering around. I think the owner may have noticed the dribble on the windows. This should have been my car of choice but I ain't got the coffers to fund it. Every recent issue of Sunday Times In gear has given the Alfa the thumbs up. And now I have learnt there is a diesel version of the latest model that is getting all the good write ups. I am even considering of going for a test drive without ever a hope in owning one in the near future. I am proper pining.

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