I have had a busy, but productive day. My little Metro has gone and I have no wheels but no matter, perhaps someone will donate a banger to me or I will win the lottery and get a Barge and a Car. Time will sort it out. The story of the Metro's demise is funny to say the least.
Pa came over today to pick up The Git. They are going to Wales for a couple of weeks and I will be child free. The Metro was long past it's sell by date, had served me well but I knew it was never going to get through another MOT. Old friends know the car as 'The Shoe and Evian Water Bottle Carrier' but to me it was always 'The Grendel'. Noisy, temperamental, reliable for most of our history together and downright stubborn! Bit like me really, she says...
I had been on Folk on The Water for the last couple of weeks and had neglected to start it. Pa came over and we had the man /woman conversation. He is obviously within his rights to treat me as a complete blondie but I know my car and I have had a few battles with sticky starter motors in my 25 years of driving. Ouch that makes me sound old! Before I went away The Grendel had refused to start a few times. Luckily I was wearing make up during these times and managed to put bonnet up and look suitably helpless until a nice man/men came along and gave me a push. Throughout the month of June I became adept at 'bump starting it and parked on a hill whenever I could.
There is a further problem to consider though. About a year ago my little car died and it drove Pa mad, he could not find out what was wrong with it. Being a Donut, he persevered, found that there was an electrical short somewhere, decided he was far too old and sensible to take the Grendel apart and 'Hotwired' it. He.. he.. he she says, this gave me an enormous amount of pleasure as I had a cute switch on my dash, provided for me by long suffering Pa and I had to switch it on before I turned the ignition. This meant, that I could take out key, lock door and leave engine running...delightful.
We tried to jump start it off dads car today and had a bit of a discussion as to what was going on when all our efforts failed. After a bit of pondering and head scratching we concluded that we were both right. Pa found a loose wire on the 'Hotwire' connection and I told him to take the leads of the battery and I successfully jump started it. See, sticky starter motor!
Then the fun began....I had to drive it to the scrap merchants. It seems that I had blown a major fuse, by jump starting it one too many times. I had no indicators, lights or windscreen wipers. The Grendel bellowed its last mighty roar as I drove it to its demise. It started to rain heavily and I had to rely on hand signals that I had learned some 25 years previously. Ummm...how did I remember those? I had to stop a couple of times to wipe my windscreen as I guided dad through country lanes. I did not want to go on the main roads for fear that someone with similar road rage to mine would call me a 'Greek' for not indicating.
We parked the car on the Weighbridge. Keys out, engine running. Pa rescued a pair of shoes from the back. Apparently, scrap is all done by weight. 'Should have put a pile of bricks in the back' muttered Pa. I felt a bit tearful as she went off to be 'cubed' and clutching the mighty sum of £58.50, in my hand we said goodbye.
I wonder what my next wheels will look like? One thing is for sure, I won't be driving a stick shift. My arm is too poorly to do that again. I'll miss haring around country lanes, using my gears. I must be getting old, she sighs, it's automatics all the way for me!
Take Care out there
Namaste
Muse x
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