March 13, 2007

Redemption song

Sometimes, you treat a loved one very badly. Then you regret it deeply and in a heartfelt manner. Most of the regret is selfish, "How will i get on without you?"
This is especially true when the maltreated object (MO) is your car.

The MO is carefully driven through the gates of the automotive repair shop. If it spluttering and grimy, you carefully avoid meeting the eyes of the any of the makaniks. The car is deposited, emptied of music, bills, funky yellow cushions with a 3-d dog in a skirt on them (they won't believe me till i post a picture of the f. y. pooch cushion) and a hosepipe.

A day later you traipse into the zentrum, free of that hangdog look you had earlier. You may even whistle, though this is foolhardy. They might just decide they don't like your attitude, and hand you one of those Heathrow clear plastic bags with the knob of the gear stick and part of the indicator light thingummy leverbob.

But oh the joy when the car rolls out! If it had teeth, it would smile cheekily and they would glint in the sunlight! (This blobber doesn't have much mechanical aptitude, knowledge or common sense, does she?)

You expansively sign the bill and tut tut in a friendly manner at a grimy spot on the door, but are willing to overlook it this time.

Right then, you could drive into the desert as the sun sets, as they tend to do in car adverts, and it would actually make sense.


Anonymous said...


Can't say one empathizes. One remembers less fondly one's former steed 'Bottom O'TheLine', or Bot for short.

Said car has seen more traffic than VT station. Had more nips and tucks than Liz Taylor. Suffered more than a viewer of Waterworld. Subjected to more bad similes than Navjot Sidhu's mike.

And so on. 40 years of faithful service, gold watch and all that rot.

But one well remembers a vindictive nature and a devious mind that was well masked by the innocuous appearance and the air of servility.

A coolant sensor that refused to work and led to bystanders beliving the car ran on steam. A radiator cap that dovetailed with said sensor to squirt superheated water. Tires that did a lil sidways jig on any road that has seen rain in a year. Avaricious carpets that laid claim on every coin and key that slipped one's hand. A gearshift whose idea of slotting was a 1st...2nd...why not midway.....

One hath come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. Clods of earth welcome

Orcaella brevirostris said...

Botman: oh dear. that brings back memories of the family armoured personnel carrier (APC).

"Tires that did a lil sidways jig on any road that has seen rain in a year."
our APC would do a quick shimmy too. unfortunately, this was usually five minutes after the steering wheel was turned.

"Avaricious carpets that laid claim on every coin and key that slipped one's hand."
I hate to be a one-down-woman-shipper, but our car carpet once swallowed and entire ham (sliced). said ham was disgorged several days later, untouched but smelly.

And who can forget the day i push-started it, pater familias told me to get in, but i continued to push, the car started and he drove off, while i watched. 40 minutes later, he realised i was being even more taciturn and monosyllabic than usual. feared that, being a slip of a girl, i'd fallen out of the window. and returned to find me viciously attacking a banana chip.

and yet, my dream car is the old standard herald, with tail fins in two tones, body pink, roof black.

Anonymous said...

Orcaella, That was hilarious.
This is getting some memetic inertia here, since what you have written about has awoken some well buried memories.

For the life of me, I can't figure out how a car developed enough personality (or lost so much identity) that it decided to taste a ham. Or why it regurgitated it slice by slice. Methinks something more malign was in effect there. In the time-honoured tradition of letting a lady step ahead, one allows you this small victory. After all, a two week old over-ripe papaya seasoned by the summer heat ill compares to ham that would have attracted enough lil colonists to be able to be considered motile.

We had an eyetalian vehicle of ambiguous vintage a long time ago. It had a death wish. In short order, it managed to get hit face-on by a truck, have an altogether different truck dump a load of stones on it, have an amorous assignment with a purblind cow, managed to almost run over a tone-deaf woman, make a cynic of a perfectly good chauffeur and completely rid my mom of any thoughts of learning to drive.

I sense I'm rambling, so I'll stop here.

You must've been told this a lot, but you have a real gift for humour.

Orcaella brevirostris said...

bot: yes, it's very memetic. emetic too, when one thinks of the ham, post disgorging.

" managed to almost run over a tone-deaf woman"
tone-deaf? she heard the horn, one is persuaded, but imagined it to be the call of the lesser indian water buffalo? how else to explain the thing?

eyetalian origin cars or their bulbous diplomatic cousins made for an interesting childhood. i do so hope (eases rheumatic hip while gazing fondly into the distance) today's children are also being entertainingly traumatised by ham-eating hulks of plastic and metal.

Amit said...

Hehehehe!! This is MADNESS. Is this sparta?