Chrystal was at work so I was roped in to take her car across town to Halfords on one of the busiest days of the year – there is a Next sale and an endless stream of people lugging huge TVs out of Comet and Currys, a queue on the A23 to even get into the road County Oak is on and then queues within the car park for a space.  Fortunately the Daewoo Matiz is a tiny car so I had more chance of parking and ended up in nearly the same postcode as Halfords.

The young chap there was very helpful, and it all went in nicely, even though you have to take the whole dashboard off to change a stereo in a Matiz and it turned out there was a blown fuse and a bit of a hunt for the fusebox.

The worst thing was not all the sitting in traffic, not was it standing around in the freezing cold while the work was done.  The worst thing was having to drive across to the other side of town, and back, in a car whose every (pink) accessory proclaims it to be ‘powered by fairydust’ – a proud boast also on the rear window sticker.

1. I don’t car whether it is a real word or not

To be fair, it was not the fault of the AA man.  I had a look under the bonnet myself.  There is a tiny little engine in a tiny little engine compartment and hardly any space in there.  Everything is just compact. The battery looks like a miniature version of a normal car battery – actually it looks like the one on Charlie’s motorbike.

The AA man said that he thought he knew what was wrong but he just could not get at it (thought it turns out he was wrong – it was something else he wouldn’t have been able to get at).  The car was taken off to a garage.  I suspect it is a specialist garage that has headhunted some of those oriental women with the tiny hands who you always see on film in Korean or Japanese electronics factories doing all the delicate work that blokes with their ham fists and sausage fingers could not do.

I happened to look over my shoulder and just caught her grinning and clapping her hands together.

Surely such little moments are the ones we live for, and one of the genuine pleasures of parenthood is when you have the power to create such happiness.  Even if it will only last until the first time she runs out of petrol a couple of days before pay-day.

Not that a great big estate car is something a new driver really wants to be driving anyway, especially when it comes to the parking.  Not after spending all their lessons in small hatchbacks.

When I passed my test (in my late 20’s) I didn’t buy a car for a couple of years.  In fact, after I passed it was a full six months before I drove anything at all.  That was a company pool car so I could get to a meeting, and I had to take a few minutes to remember what all the pedals were for.  I suspect Chrystal is not going to be as patient as I was.

To tell the truth though, it is a bit of a relief that she will not be on the road much, if at all, for a while.  Each week the local papers are full of stories of  crashes, pictures of cars wrapped around lamp posts and coverage of funerals for young drivers and the protective aprt of me would still prefer to see her miserable than mangled.

Still… she has a weekend job and can now save up all the money she would otherwise have been paying on lessons, so maybe she will be in a position to get a little runaround.  Or she could spend it all on lottery tickets and be in with a chance of being able to afford insurance on a small runaround if she gets six numbers.

Front bumper of a Cadillac. Or Chevy. Or something. What do I know about these things?

We went down to Worthing today.   The main reason was to get some shoes for Chrystal (there is a Brantano shop there with a decent choice of large sizes) but really it was an excuse to go to the seaside too, and get a Sunday roast at the Warwick.

After lunch we walked round the corner and found the Steyne gardens absolutely crammed full of classic American cars.

I am by no means a big car fan, but there is something about all those Mustangs, Firebirds and Stingrays…   There were also some fantastic pickup trucks and station wagons – and masterpieces of chrome and fins.

There was even a proper Gran Torino all kitted out in the Starsky & Hutch paintjob.

These cars are so much more interesting than modern cars, which have all been made to look the same thanks to wind tunnels.  The American cars of the 50s and 60s owe as much to art as they do to science: not so much machines as sculptures in chrome.

The Skudmobile in happier days

On Friday afternoon I got the phone call I had been half-expecting: the insurance company called to say that my car is not worth repairing.

A shame really.  With the very few miles I actually need to drive it is hardly worth having a car, but I got used to having this.Now I just have to wait and see how much they think it was worth, and after hearing friends’ insurance valuation tales that is a call I am really not looking forward to.  The chances are that I will not even get back the £800 I had to spend on servicing in the last two years.

I am guessing I will not get enough to buy a similar car, which to my mind rather defeats the purpose of insurance.    The other challenge will be trying to retrieve the stereo from it.  Not that I have anything to put it in, but its the principle – it was a Christmas present from the Mrs.

Looks like a good time to start using the bicycle again and revert to plan A of taking a CBT.  Before Dad died, leaving a car that nobody else wanted,  I was on the brink of doing a CBT because I reckoned a scooter would be enough for the small number of short journeys I do.   I have got used to having a second car now – but I don’t think it is too late to re-adjust to having just the one.

I have had someone roll into the back of me in traffic queues before, with such slight a impact that there was not even a scratch on either car, but this time I really felt it.  Not only that but the back bumper is pushed in enough that I can’t open the boot any more.

At least we were both insured and both cars are still driveable, but looking at the motor now I wish I had stayed at home – especially as hardly anybody I called on was in and I am going to have to go back out again now.

Last week Top Gear sang its praises, which gave me second thoughts.  I think I will just wait until somebody resurrects and re-invents the Morris Minor¹ giving it the new-Mini/New-Beetle treatment and then lust after that instead.

1. surely it’s only a matter of time

Veteran car approaching Crawley High Street, November 2008

What great timing!  Buy a new camera on Friday and then on Sunday 500 photogenic veteran cars pass within a few hundred metres of home.  Some years I forget that the London to Brighton Veteran Car Run is happening: this year I made sure to catch it.

Although the cars come very close to home I went into town first, but I wish I hadn’t.  It gets so crowded down there.  There is a lot to see, and the Ifield scouts and others are knocking up some tempting food, but I was just interested trying out the new camera so I took a few snaps then came back home and walked up to the top of Pease Pottage Hill, which is a much better place to be.

1903 Crestmobile struggling up Pease Pottage Hill, November 2008

It gave me a chance to try out the telephoto lens which was cool.  I had taken it down to the town centre with me but forgot to take the dust cover for the normal lens, and I was not going to shove it in my pocket unprotected.  Unfortunately the telephoto does not have image stabilisation on it, but the results didn’t come out too bad.  Just have to remember to be well braced when using it – or take the tripod with me.

One reason why it is a good place to be is that the cars are all going pretty slowly up the hill, and the grass verges are littered with cars that couldn’t quite make it, waiting for the police, RAC or friends to come along and push, tow, or repair them.  I know how they feel: a lot of the drivers get out and push at about the same point on the hill as I do when I am on the bicycle.

I am very pleased with the telephoto lens.  Quite often there was a veteran car heading up a queue, with a lot of space in front of them.  I was able to stand in the road get some head-on pictures quite close up without having to worry about getting run over.

I couldn’t believe it when I came home and found that I had taken over 80 pictures.  It doesn’t sound like many, but in the past I have come home from a fortnight’s holiday with fewer photos.  Even after deleting the real disasters there are nearly 60 pictures remaining.

Total disasters?   I didn’t fork out a small fortune (by my standards) to have total disasters…  but its all a learning experience and I have now learned to remember to change the setting from manual to autofocus before I start snapping. I also learned to pay more attention to which of the autofocus points is being used.  Other than that I’m very pleased with the results which I am going to spend ages loading them on Flickr.