oscar, delta, kilo.
I've been meaning to post for a week. Actually exactly a week and one day. 21st Feb to be precise.
I gave my faithful, reliable, old, beat up, first car in to be "scrapped" for a shiny new obnoxious one. It's MOT was due and every year it was becoming more and more of a mission trying to get it to pass and this year the patch job on the exhaust was ( Read more... )
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I'll keep adding to this via comments but your car defines you. All the knocks and bumps on my old car had a story. Whether it was the time I hit the bus or the time I was racing home irresponsibly. The car carried the honourable battle scars of time and life. Real. In some ways it represented my own bruised and battered psyche. Old and weary. Beat up but robust. Willing to survive but so close to dying.
The car also represented my last connection to my now firmly estranged father. He helped me choose it and he helped me maintain it. He taught me well I believe. In his parental wisdom he picked a car that i couldn't get in to too much trouble. And was hugely cost effective and reliable. (Both rules that i have impulsively broken for my next car). I had his blessing in that car and superstitious that I am i felt that brought me and my insane driving, good luck.
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