Thursday, 19 May 2011
Getting my ancient Ka through its MOT is an annual worry; a bit like getting a recalcitrant child through its GCSEs. And of course it's largely my fault.
The driving world is divided into two kinds of people; those who look after cars, and those who don't. We don't.
We mean to. Of course we do. But after a couple of weeks with a "new" car, we lose interest. The moss builds up round the windows, the mud and straw accumulate on the floor, and the horse stuff builds up in the back. I'm not proud of this, and would like to be different, but there it is. However hard I try, I cannot make myself care about cars.
So when I took my little mud-splattered moss-covered friend in for its MOT today, I was not optimistic. The rear windscreen wiper had been immobilised, I'd found the spare tyre for £10 at a scrap yard, and something important-looking was dangling down from the car's innards. And those were just the things I knew about. I suspected that during surgery (or whatever it is they do) far worse things would come to light.
But it passed! Lovely Barb rang from the garage to tell me. Ok, apparently there are one or two things I need to be aware of; something is wearing down, and something else is a bit loose, and there's another thing which I've now forgotten. When these things reach their separate crises, I will have to get something done.
"How will I know?" I asked Barb, as she explained about each risky thing.
"There'll be a Noise," said Barb. "You'll know."
Barb speaks my language. I understand Noise. I shall listen out for it. But in the meantime, my little Ka and I are back on the road for another year
(Mine doesn't look at all like the one in the picture. I couldn't find a photo of a dirty navy blue one.)