I am cursed. Let you all be warned before you start to read this tale of woe, I have bad luck and will claim no responsibility should some of it rub off on you.
My particular strain of curse is to do with the automobile. The car, a piece of machinery that aids our lives and makes things a whole lot easier, the common car.
Don’t let me near yours. Lets just say as a magnet attracts iron filings with alarming force, I attract car issues. Anything from your minor scrapes to total wipe-outs, and I can’t seem to help it. I don’t think I am a particularly bad driver (although one frequent passenger always comments about putting his seatbelt on so he doesn’t die at the start of each journey) but I have a high incident rate.
When I failed my first driving test, I did so with three majors, one being the fact that I had got to a roundabout and looked left, and then pulled out in front of a car. Yes, nerves had got the better of me and I had looked the wrong way. Ooops.
And it hasn’t really got any better from there. My first car was wrecked in an accident where I rear ended another driver at a roundabout (roundabouts have never brought me much luck) and it had to be retired, and then I got Betty.
Betty was fairly new, and I was scared to drive something so shiny. On my first trip in her, a massive stone flew out from the car in front and cracked the windscreen. As if this wasn’t bad enough, it’s in a place where it cannot be fixed. Marvellous! Then my sister reversed her into a skip, but not before she had to have considerable work done when the engine broke in her first year of life. Luckily she was still under warranty but I haven’t always been so lucky. Last week I accidentally rammed a fence and lost half the bumper, and the week before a girl scratched all down the side with her Barbie pink car, and didn’t even stop to say sorry. Oh good!
But the worst has to be when I lived in the cottage and was in a bit of a hurry one morning. We had a lovely little front lawn that rose to the side of the drive, all lawned and trimmed, which I regularly dented on my hasty trip to work. I whizzed out one morning and bumped up said lawn like I had done a million times, but didn’t realise that on this occasion I was slightly more on the hump than normal. I hedged my bets; on the one hand I could go forward and try again, but on the other I could commit and just bump off the other side.
The long and the short of it is that the event ended with two nice men having to lift my car off the hill that the bumper had got wedged in, while I looked embarrassed as I blocked the road from both sides, causing a tailback of traffic.
So Betty is in the garage tomorrow for her annual MOT and I am hoping that for once in her short life she doesn’t cost me a small fortune. Otherwise my love, you will be getting put down. You have brought me nothing but trouble!!