30 days of Adventure And Cars
Cars are causing me quite a bit of adventurish activity lately. Toot toot!
I can't in all honesty say that I have tried out something new every single day in this 30 days of adventure but I have been pushing myself to places I don't normally choose to go, and which challenge me. Like working with a personal trainer, (that's for another blog, when I have recovered enough to talk about it.)
Cars have loomed large this month. First, my own trusty wee Renault started spluttering on hills. That wasn't an adventure but it did challenge me getting it home. The adventurous bit was using my husband's estate car which has so many 'quirks' you could write a book on it and put it in therapy for years.
But nothing daunted, I persevered. After all, at age 18 I used to drive around in my parent's old Austin Cambridge Estate, a huge beast with a classic wooden fascia and no power steering. I loved it and regularly tanked up and down the M4 twixt university and home (pre speed camera days).
But something happens to you when you have babies. Suddenly cars look like one massive safety risk. My speeding days were over. The very first time I took our newborn out in the baby seat I wanted to have a flashing blue light on top saying 'Don't dare to anything stupid as I have the most precious cargo on board in the entire world!' I've never quite recovered. Err, how old are my babies now you ask? Well.... 32 and 28. But still very precious.
Back to the present. The reason I don't like my husband's car is that he is 6ft 2inches tall and I am 5ft 3inches tall. By the time I have adjusted the seat and mirrors to suit I am so close to the steering wheel that on a long journey it makes a groove in my knees! Plus I get neck ache.
But I have persevered and am actually quite good at steering with my knees now. And I'm rocking the groovy knees look all summer long.
However, today our car man, Terry, called in person. The news was so dire that he didn't want to phone but had to give it face to face. My car is no more. It has reached the point where I might as well throw the money away than keep trying to fix it. My mid-life crisis impulse buy of a convertible is no longer with us. Sob.
I have to buy a new car.
I hate buying cars. I've only had this one 10 years. I just want one that won't damage the environment too much, won't break down, and has electric side mirrors (see previous para re husband's height. You can waste precious hours of your life altering mirrors). I hate being patronised by garage owners or hearing conversations taking place over my head as man talks to man, despite fact that my man probably knows less than me about cars. Obviously as a man he is superior in the car stakes. (As he is a retired fire-fighter I will concede he knows a lot about which cars are best to get crumpled up in but that's not always appropriate to know. And I can't afford a Saab anyway.)
So, where is the adventure in this, Jane? you cry. Well, I am going to do some research! I am going to read up on cars. I am going to go at the end of the month when sales folk need to get their figures in and I am more likely to get a good deal (see, I've begun researching already). I will know about fuel consumption, and other car stuff and above all, if someone tries to talk over me to my husband I will loudly say, 'Excuse me, this is MY car buying adventure! I am in charge here.'
PS All tips on car buying gratefully received...