Of Vexatious Vee-hickles May 16, 2007
Posted by Jen in : Journal , 7 commentsOnce again, my oomph has been crumbled and left out for the birds. The reason? I have been car-shopping. Oh dear, silly old me.
Me: Hello, I’d like to buy a car please.
Garage Man: What sort of thing are you looking for Madam?
Me: Oh, a silver one please, with a CD player and power steering?
Cue churlish sniggering, especially when I mention the paltry sum my insurance company have finally stumped up. Deary, deary me. But. I found a car. Ok, so it wasn’t silver. It didn’t have a CD player either. But it hadn’t been far. And I’ve also had recent practice in driving a red car. PAS, low mileage, jolly colour - what more could a girl ask for? (PAS indeed - hark at me! Learning the lingo, see? Not as daft as I look, me.)
Up I rocked to test drive my new car. Why I thought that a garage called AXLR8 would be found next to the gleaming Audi and Lexus showrooms, I’ve no idea.
The grubby garage man handed me a bent old key, not bothering to speak lest his fag drop from his drooping lips. He pointed towards a clapped-out deathmobile. I politely took it for a drive. For, oh, approximately three and a half minutes. Only one bend, luckily, as I almost ruptured my spleen during said manoeuvre. PAS my arse.
Still no car then. Jiggering jalopies, will this motoring misery never end?
