Hubby told me it was a danger to life and limb. He was probably right. The new car however was as safe as safe could be. Loads of airbags, traction control with automatic stability, and radar-assisted braking. The dashboard has more lights than Blackpool illuminations. It took a lot of getting used to. The first time I took her out I was impressed at how powerful and quiet she was. And the brakes, oh my god, the brakes, the slightest touch, and the car stopped.
And then there was the stereo. My old car had a vintage radio, in keeping with the car's age of course. My new one has surround sound with a subwoofer. It sounds as good as our home stereo. The seats and steering wheel are heated, for comfort. It doesn’t even have a key. As long as I have the remote fob about my person, the doors unlock as I touch the door handle. I really can’t fault it, it does everything.
After a month of driving my new car, my husband said we should sell the old one to make room in the garage. I agreed, of course, I told him I would take it for one last drive first. And so I sat in my old familiar red car. It started first time, almost as if it was pleased to see me. It wasn’t as fast but it chugged along. It still took me where I wanted to go. The seat, although unheated, was shaped to my body. It felt just like a pair of old comfy slippers. Unlike my new car, I could feel every bump in the road.
Somehow, the faint whiff of petrol reminded me of days gone past. Yes, it wasn’t as fast, and yes, it did have its problems. Bur somehow, I had grown to love it. By the time I reached home, I told my husband that I wanted to keep my old car. He just smiled and said that he thought that would happen. So now I have two cars, one that works and performs to the max, and one that is a joy to drive. I know that one day I will have to let her go, but in the meantime, I have the best of both worlds.