Thursday July 28, 2005
I’m a sentimental old fool. Not saying that as a complaint, or to gain sympathy, just as an observation of fact.
It was a grey, drizzly day, eminently suitable for my mood as I drove the little blue Ford on our last journey together, to the dealer in Boston. I should have given her a last clean and shine but time had run out on me and all I could do was to collect my in-car stuff into a black plastic bag—reminiscent of other melancholy days, leaving an office for the last time—and see that we had a smooth, safe trip. Can’t remember when last I drove so deliberately, so carefully…
The only vacant space in the customer carpark was right next to the new car, gleaming, all ready to collect. Oh, boy but that was a sad irony. My old friend looked so tired and shabby sitting there. I left a respectful distance between the two vehicles, gave the little blue Ford one last grateful pat on the roof, and stalked off into the showroom in search of the salesman.
That was when the fun started. Not. I had to sit there going through mounds of paper, signing this, checking that, agreeing to this, nodding to that. It took two and a quarter blessed hours to go through all the formalities. Goodness knows how long it takes if there’s credit involved.
I’m sorry I have to confess it but I don’t much like car salesmen as a breed. I’ll not malign this particular one because he was no worse and actually a helluva lot better than most. Even so, it was rather like shaking hands with yesterday’s cold salmon when we finally concluded the deal. That should be it, I thought, sinking gratefully into my lovely new car. I shouldn’t have to deal with another car salesman for a few years now, with luck.
Sadly, my luck was running thin because, late in the day, I discovered he’d forgotten to leave the owner’s handbook and service record in the car and I shall have to go back again tomorrow to pick it up. Or demand a replacement. Aw, shucks.
Anyway. I love my new motor. It’ll be known as the little silver Ford, of course. I don’t give cars names anymore. Bad enough when you come to part with them as it is.
And that was my day. Excitement and pleasure tempered with melancholy. Like I say, I’m a sentimental old fool.
|Good-bye little blue Ford…
|…and Hi-yo Silver!