car song

the car i drive is old. not circa 1991; i mean old. it was my grandfather's, and was built and put on the road before i'd even been born. i have driven it on and off for a few years; first, when my grandfather died and willed the car to my father - i'd just received my licence. but then i moved out of home, into the city, and it was unnecessary. which was a big relief. by this stage, like when you get to know a person, the car had relaxed and revealed its less appealing traits to me. i don't mean engine problems; it was more the colour (unmentionable; it is the only car in this particular colour, and if i mention it i will lose my anonymity), the shape (small yet definitive, as someone who is overtly innofensive but consistently annoying is; think rachael from this life), the sound (revs and roars), the experience of driving it (putting along, but with extra sound; loudly).

anyway, in the past few years the car and i have come to have an uncomfortable partnership. i've borrowed it periodically, but always returned it to dad, refusing any ownership. however, each time i have begun to consider buying a new car, i've run overseas or bought computing toys instead. and so eventually i've come back, time and again, to the old car.

i was driving it along greenhill road yesterday when i realised suddenly that it was the oldest car on the road. sometimes it feels like this, but as you begin to pay more attention you can see those more ancient generations with their wheels still turning. but this time, i realised that i couldn't see anything nearly as old as this; it looked like its familiars had died. it was a relic. i was driving a historical relic.

the more i peered around, the more convinced i was. and am - this entire weekend i have been peering at cars and their number plates. mine begins with an 's' - try and beat it! impossible. the closest i saw was an old jeep, and that was still a 't'. generally, the cars you think are old are 'u's: nothing on this one.

but as i putted onwards in the oldest car on the road (and yes, the sun was setting), i realised in a wonder-years moment that although i do hate the car and refuse to reveal it to anyone who hasn't passed the blood-brother/sister test, i do know it so well as to love it in a way. it's that familiarity: i know that the first time i start it, as soon as i try and make it move it will cut out and i'll have to start up again. i know that you can't wind down the passenger window (and that it's held in place with a chip of wood). i know that strong, healthy rev-sound it makes as it puts along at 60 (one of the few times it's happy). that 'cling' sound it makes when you slam the door, which is the glass rattling, which might break one day soon. i know that sinking feeling when you go out on to the street and see it in full glory, waiting for you, winking at everyone.

there's just no other car like it. and really - how good is that engine?? they just don't make cars like that anymore.