We'll enter you into our draw to win an iPhone5, they told me.
But hurry! The deadline for entries is 1st December 2012. What are you waiting for?
So here goes.
It cost me the princely sum of £45.
I bought it off a friend.
(He's still a friend.)
It broke down. A lot. At the time I was a student in London and, let's say, I got my money's worth out of AA Relay membership. The neighbours at my parent's house in Brid. got used to flashing orange lights at three a.m. as the car was lowered off the back of the relay truck. Because, however far south I got, I always opted to be relayed home as I thought the repairs would cost less. False economy, I know, because I then had to fork out for a rail ticket to get back to uni.
Ah well. The registration of this lovely little mechanical marvel was NME 420L. That's how old it was. Or how old I am. (Take your pick.)
Anyway, it's also the one and only car I could service myself. (Nb: there is no connection whatsoever with the aforementioned mechanical breakdowns, which were in each and every case caused by circumstances completely beyond the owner's control.) I used to go to scrap yards for parts. I fitted a new hand-brake once. And inertia-reel seatbelts. And lovely 'vanden plas' seats with walnut-lined pull down tea trays for the rear-seat passengers.
I loved that car.
I would show you a photograph but it
And though I as tempted, I never did give it a Basil Fawlty damn good thrashing.
How could I? It was love.
Here's another picture:
Lovely, isn't she?
The car, that is. Not Valerie. (Although she was quite sweet too, now I come to think about it.)
Ah, first love. Never so sweet; never so painful.
So, what about your first
Let's hope it brings back pleasant memories.