Shiny, shiny..

It seems everyone I know at the moment is buying (or at least getting via work) a new car.  Honestly the car park seems to be awash with gleaming metallic-painted covered bodywork, upon which hangs "06" number plates.  I was feeling a little left out by this up until recently. 

You see, my current plan is to run my motor into the ground.  I'll get rid of it when it collapses in a smoky heap and all the doors comically (and simultaneously) fall off - like you used to see Clown cars doing.  Seeing that I drive a VW, I'm hopeful that it will do me at least another seven years (my old VW was 14 years old when I eventually parted with it, so I have high hopes that my existing one will do at least 10) as they are reliable as hell as long as they are properly looked after.  Mine is off for it's annual service today (and Smith Knight Fay collected it from work at 8:20 this morning - now that's service!!) so I'm certainly trying my best.

I know this is not the trendy thing to do.  We are encouraged not to drive anything over three years old these days, avoiding costly MOT and breakdown bills (apparently).  Whilst this seems like a marvellous idea, it's shocking to think that few people ever end up completely owning their car any more, but instead only keep on chipping away at the latest finance deal they've got.  Me?  Well I could happily do without car repayments for a couple of years, between keeping the damn thing taxed, insured and filled with petrol, motoring costs me enough as it is.

Despite the fact that I know this to be a sensible thing to do (I mean, baby and wedding on the way this year - I have other expenses to consider, know what I mean?), sensible doesn't always seem so much fun when everyone is driving their new shiny cars to work.  This feeling was compounded when I looked at my car last week: It was a sorry sight, and that was my fault.

You see when I smoked, I smoked in my car.   It's funny, but it seems like such a long time ago now.. I do still get the odd moment of weakness where I think I'd quite like to see what a cigarette tastes like now, but it passes after a few seconds.  But anyway, what this meant was there was always a faint smoky smell inside the car and all of the interior was covered in a fine layer of dust (for dust, read ash).. I was aware that there was a carpet inside my car, but it was difficult to ascertain (or remember) what colour it might have been, and I could write my name in the dust on my dashboard.  In short, my little car - which is always so enthusiastic when I turn the key, so chirpy, so eager to transport me to whatever destination I choose to drive it to- had been neglected by me.  I was a bad owner.  The guilt!

So yesterday, I decided to give ol' brum-brum a treat.. It was off to the Car Wash for a full valet.  This is not as extravagant as it sounds - it's only eleven pounds (and the normal hand wash is six quid anyway), but it was the thought that counts here.  My faithful VW was treated to a thorough clean outside, with high-pressure hoses, and hot wax and then the nice people cleaned it thoroughly inside too: wiping down the dashboard, vacuuming the carpet, cleaning the inside of the windows and hanging a brand new air freshener from the rear view mirror.  When I finally got back in my car the transformation was amazing, the interior gleamed, the carpet was lush, the metal work was all shiny and I swear the engine purred..  All evidence that I had smoked in my car had been wiped away and years had been taken off my car as a result.  Indeed it felt like a new car.. And, I was no longer a bad owner - phew!