Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Cars ...

Having my car MOT'd today ... not looking forward to that, 'cos last time it cost me a fortune as they had to replace hoses.  My car is an antique, to be sure, but there's still life in her and she is faithful to the core.  I've given her a hard time in the past, scoffing at the fact that she's a Vauxhall and not particularly sexy but she is a work horse, reliable (so far) and trustworthy on long journeys (again, so far).  She's actually the best car I've ever owned and cost peanuts when you consider that a second hand car in South Africa can still cost the same as a small apartment. 

The grey Nissan Sentra was my second favourite before it started packing in four kilometres from my house every now and then.  We thought it was the immobiliser but it turned out to be other problems.
The first car I bought with my own money was a Volksie Beetle bug with the extra fat back-takkies - the carb would get stuck and I had to regularly pull over to the side on the highway, get out and kick it with my Doc Martins, then it would cough into life again.    The electrics on it were shot to hell, you couldn't drive with the lights on AND the windscreen wipers, so if you were coming home from a club at 1am in the morning and it was raining, you had to make some difficult choices.    It had absolutely no interior heating to speak of, so in winter I would have to wrap up like I was going to the North Pole, complete with hat and scarf around my face, cos the wind would howl through the dashboard and freeze my hands.  But I loved Beavis so much.

My very first car was a Ford Cortina that my mother's second husband bought me when we lived in Welkom.   It was way too powerful for me but eventually I got used to it, I took out a lot of trees, kieviets (birdies) and one morning a whole bunch of kittens kept spewing out onto the road from somewhere inside the engine!  They'd fallen asleep on the engine block and I didn't know about that.
I was a Rasta when we lived in Welkom and my daughter said she always knew I was coming because she could hear the IJahMan or Burning Spear blasting out of my Ford from miles away.  I put stickers of Bob Marley and any other Rasta I knew all over the back windows - I was dead popular in Thabong (the local African township) where I used to go to interview Rastas for Jive magazine.  Those were the days.
When I was living in Edenvale, years later, I bought myself a  brand new Proton Satria Neo, out the box and I fucking hated that car right from the second I drove it off the salesroom floor.  It was way too small inside, no room for passengers although it had 'back seats'  (what was I thinking?); two doors and so low you took your head out every time you got in.  You couldn't open the boot from the outside, which was a nightmare when you went shopping with kids in tow.  It was a right pain in the arse that car.   She might have looked sexy (midnight black, i.e. having flecks of metallic dark blue paint mixed in with the black spray job) and nice mags but that was about it.  I was so disappointed with that car and then she went and got hail damage the day BEFORE she was sold (prior to leaving South Africa).

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