Around this time of year I get, what I have less than affectionately termed, my ‘motor month’. Around now, everything from car insurance to the M.O.T expires. Taking a deep breath and a noticeable chunk out of my bank account, I keep my fingers crossed that nothing goes wrong. Ignoring jibes from male friends that this is such a girl’s car, and dismissing suggestions that I look for a newer vehicle or try to sell Ralph, I still vainly hope that all goes well so I can keep him for yet another year.
I have a history with Ralph you see. He’s ferried me to and
from both college and work, as well as making it easier for me to get to my
Dad’s house not to mention all my friends, who cleverly decided to live at
least twenty minutes away. He’s pretty
much what you’d call a run-around
car, which means he doesn’t have many miles on the clock, but nevertheless I
still insist that Ralph is much needed and - strangely for an inanimate object
- much loved.
So this week, I optimistically drove him to the garage for
his yearly M.O.T, fully believing that all would be well. I waved away any
doubts and fears that were expressed over his brakes, his clutch, his
windscreen wipers and any kind of obscure mechanical fault that I wouldn’t
fully understand. “He’ll pass” I insisted, giving him a confident pat before I
zoomed off.
He failed. Ralph had rust.
Disappointed, we forked out just over £100 to cover the test
and the welding Ralph ended up needing, whilst I silently cursed myself for
being so confident and jinxing his fate. He’s back now, parked for the time
being in the lay-by outside where I can see him. But I just can’t get something
out of my head.
When I told a friend about my car’s failure, he grinned at
me and slyly asked, “You know what they call rust for cars, don’t you?”
I shook my head.
“Cancer.”
I blinked. I laughed it off. But I faintly remember hearing this before…
I shook my head.
“Cancer.”
I blinked. I laughed it off. But I faintly remember hearing this before…
So that’s it. Despite being reassured that he won’t need any
more attention for at least 18months regarding his rusty underside, I can’t
help feeling that I’m dealing with a case of impending car cancer.
Poor Ralph.
(...I wonder how much a Fiesta would cost...)
(...I wonder how much a Fiesta would cost...)
Ralph doesn't look like a girly car, too bad he had rust. Perhaps, you could cure his rusty underside using products that are made for rust removal. I, too, had once a car that is scarred with deep and wide rust. I thought it would never be remedied, until a friend of mine introduced me some rust removal solutions products.
ReplyDeleteTanner Torchia