The first car we bought for our spawn did its duty, almost. We paid the princely sum of £450 pounds for it and hoped the stolid little beast would last for one year and provide her with her first no-claims insurance bonus. It lasted eleven months before adamantly blowing up and refusing to move ever again.
It was a good car, and German which meant that it was designed for the impatient and leaden feet of my daughter and whose clutch had to endure more torture in the past year than in all of its previous twelve and certainly more than the makers had ever envisaged in their most lurid nightmares.
Now its replacement has arrived. It has an odd title: "Ka." It sounds like a jackdaw with a cleft palate. It's a Ford, apparently and they're well made cars. Looked after they should certainly last ten years. This one's already half that and cost more then England's national debt to insure. Thus I'm hoping this one will last at least two years.
Yet before we've even got it insured or taxed, and so legally drivable we've been presented with a list of absolute necessities. Forget the MOT, the yearly mandatory safety check. That can wait. There's a brake warning light I'll have to take care of and I believe the fan belt will have to be tightened or replaced.
The list of necessities are (in order)
New wheel trims (not the originals; far too tacky), seat covers, sufficient tacky dangly things to hang from the overhead mirror that actually seeing from the windscreen will be impossible. Polished twenty times (by me), new Ford badge on the boot since the existing one has had the bad taste to become faded. New Ford badge on the bonnet since the original had the good taste to flee in terror. New CD Player (with flashing lights and USB and Bluetooth and iplayer jack, furry floor mats, new windscreen, new rear windscreen, matte(er) black screen wipers than the original.
The fact that the car already has these things is irrelevant. They all have to be replaced and if the car can still move after all this, the reverse gear is in the wrong place and can I please move it - now!! No that was not a question.
"Oh, and Daddy, darling, apparently it's only got eight valves. Can I have sixteen please. It's a nice round number. ***** from the stables has them and you wouldn't want me to look poverty-stricken would you?"
Perish the thought, I'll just look for my sledge hammer.
Second stop - the car.
I thought you might like this video. I love it but then simple things always make me laugh.