Saturday, 21 January 2012

a mini tale: beauty and the beast

Insousiance is my ultimate luxury, when there is stress around every corner, I err towards the simple and uncomplicated.  This particularly true of my car choice, give me a twenty year old Lada, Skoda, Fiesta or Escort rather than anything sleeker, more expensive and more sexy.  There is a joyous ease about an old car. I use it as an extention of handbag with all the random paraphenalia that the additional space allows me to collect.
I was surprised this year by an incredibly generous present of a mini convertible, I think that my benefactor imagined that they were rescuing me from the embarrassment of being seen in my ancient Ford Escort.  But quite the reverse is the case, it makes me smile inside when I pull up to the Blue Bar in Knightsbridge and step out of my old reliable, wearing a pair of shoes that cost more than the current value of the car.  We live in such a topsy turvey world how did it ever get this way?
I looked out of the window on Christmas morning and my heart missed a beat when I saw the little blue interloper all pert and shiny with curves in the right places and a swagger that said 'I know I am desired'.  But then I felt what can only be described as guilt when I looked at the red beast a few cars away.
He had served me loyally, starting on the button for 10 years, never running out of petrol even when I drove on empty for an hour.  Ugly, safe and reliable, how many times had I been thrilled that he was waiting for me on a wet, cold night when all others were struggling to find taxis and trains had been missed.

Low maintenance loyalty and steadfastness are qualities that are very undervalued in the 'because I'm worth it' days in which we live.  The beast was given to a friend on the understanding that I can have him back should they wish to change cars, and the mini and I are starting on our adventure together.


 Something fun for a hot weekend if I had to!


  1. My car is 14 years old, I too have a rusty beast and I'm not parting with it till it heaves its last splutter and collapses into a heap of rusted metal - which could be any day, alas.

    1. I had an old fiat punto (a long long time before fiats were cool) and on its final service the mechanic told me not to bother and just to leave it and he would organise scrapping. I walked home crying.


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