Wednesday 8 October 2008

All good things...

This morning I said goodbye to the finest, truest friend of the past 7 years. My wee red Renault Clio. It stood on the dim garage floor looking lost and desolate with no where to go for the first time in it's ten year old life. The echoes of some watery drip was the only noise to be heard as I stood looking over it's tired frame once more. Arriving at the garage in the early morning I had already cleared out the few remaining contents inside the car and was now handing the registration form over to the mechanics who seemed to nod sympathetically, almost like understanding Funeral Directors.
Pathetic isn't it. Getting this depressed over a car. I for one never thought a small red road vehicle could make my so glum but there you have it. What a fabulous little car it was. Bought from an ex boss for the not unreasonable amount of two grand approximately seven years ago, I started driving the Clio about in Birmingham and the West Midlands when I worked down there. Including more than a few trips to various towns, cities and trips back north to Scotland, the Clio could hardly be stopped and very rarely let me down, the only money spent on tyres, MOTs and the odd service here and there. A great, reliable wee runabout it has served me well and done me proud. Only now, with a good amount of mileage run up, has it been cruelly forced off the road by a burst timing belt. I will miss it. My thanks go to all the folk in the work for all their consoling, advice and their lifts in the past few days. Gordon in his brother's car, Creamy Chicken John and his hand brake turns at bus stops and Linda M who has been especially helpful, going out of her way on two mornings already, to give me a lift to work, juggling babies, kids and mothers (not whilst driving thankfully). My Dad also allowed me to talk him into extending his usual route twice this week to take me to the garage. Chaz is now on the look out for a replacement vehicle, however, I know I'll never have a true replacement. No matter where my motoring life takes me in the future I shall always remember my Clio. Maybe I should take heed to the words of Winston Churchill:
“This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.”
Or Tom Baker:
"It is the end, but the moment has been prepared for" (after which he was replaced by a far lesser model).

3 comments:

Namnet said...

I am so sorry for your beloved Clio. It must be hard times for you... but be brave and endure them! Definitely, there is some other car out there waiting for you. Be patient and let it come...
:-)

Miriam Vaswani said...

RIP Clio. So sorry to hear that she's gone.

I never thought I'd become so attached to my little flat, but you never forget your first. Well, not first, but...oh you know what I mean.

E.Rae said...

Oh my goodness I totally hear you. I cried when my first car (a white rover metro) went away.

Didn't cry so much for my second car (a black renault clio) after it cost me £1400 in it's first EVER MOT.

Now have my second VW and will never go back.