So the new car in the Dobbo household seems to be a success, she's been out of town and nothing bad happened, this really is a good thing as I work through the process of getting to trust a new car. I takes time. It's a funny thing how cars come and go, and how from time to time we seem to get attached to the bloody things. I can be like that and have been a few times in the past, non more so then with my first car.
In the early eighties I became the proud owner of a hand painted mat black mini 850. Bereft of any documentation what so ever I set off in this mighty beast of a machine in search of the many promises a teenager on the road could wish for. Surely the girls would come flocking once they seen I now had the word at my feet. Sadly this was not to be the case, in fact the flocking came from the local police who seemed to take exception to the fact I had no driving licence. This was to be the beginning of a long, long relationship between me and the boys in blue.
Nevertheless, although my time in the mini was Short lived, I did manage to get a few weeks out of the little peach. I would belt round the local lanes like some sort of demented squirrel heading for Eau Rouge on the final lap at Spa. In this little hand painted mat black pellet I ruled as King of my very own little word, I was untouchable. Sadly the mini was far from untouchable and the long touchy arm of the law eventually fell upon her like a knife through butter.
Her final resting place? Alfie's, the local scrapyard. By this time she wasn't running so well so we towed her with my mates mk 3 Cortina. For some reson it was decied I would do the towing and as I lurch off with five foot of hairy rope between us, I again felt that untouchable feeling, I knew nothing could possibly go wrong.
Obviously I saw the in coming John Deere, it was a big tractor, how could I miss it? As I homed in on the fast approaching passing place I knew I was safe to simply drop her down a gear and floor the puppy.
All I felt was a slight twang as I accelerated through the wet muddy layby. Turns out this was not the experience that befell the black pellet. For I had failed to consider the affect high speed Cortina wheels have on wet mud.
As I walked back down the lane I could see her wedged fast in the front wheel of the tractor. My mate screaming obscenities at me that brought my parentage into question. Turned out that the mud flicked onto his windscreen at exactly the moment he needed to see where he was going, who would have though it eh? The rest of the journey to Alfie's was slow and somber. Oddly enough I didn't get to drive the Cortina again that day, in fact it was quite a while before I drove it again.
And that was that, the black pellet was gone. To be honest it was without a doubt the worst car I have ever owed, and I dare say driven. But it was mine for a brief moment in time, and it was my first. I don't think we ever forget our first.