Thursday, January 25, 2007

Cars and Girls 

One of those email pictures that does the rounds every so often has a picture of an alluring young lady, with a caption that reads something like “somebody, somewhere is tired of her crap”. So it is with old cars. To pinch the old adage from the yachting fraternity, the two happiest days of your life are the day that you buy your classic car – and the day that you sell it. When you first clap your eyes on the next infatuation, you see only the good stuff. The previous custodian has decided that enough is enough, or has moved on to a younger model. He has seen the error of his ways, and found out that under the paint is a high maintenance lady. You, on the other hand, have eyes only for the alluring curves. Thus classic transactions are little oases of happiness – as the buyer rids himself of an expensive affliction, the seller fulfills a dream. Neither can quite believe that he’s getting away with it. It’s a perfect transaction.

Some of us, of course, are in for the long haul – women, cars or both. To my mind, that requires a special kind of man. Infatuation gets you through the early stages, but if you are going to make it for the long term commitment, then you need to put in the work. Just occasionally, too, it helps to get a bit of help or advice from someone who has been around the block a few times. Such an occasion took place this week, with me despairing over a car that had been stuck in the garage for too long with a leaky water pump. Having fixed several non existent problems, I enlisted the help of the older generation. A friend helped me out with a replacement pump from one of the many bits he has lying around, and my own old man, who is out here on holiday - or so he thought – fitted it whilst I was at work.

You will be pleased to hear that there is a happy ending to this story: the new old pump doesn’t leak, and I am now enjoying my second honeymoon. Long may our passion last!

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