I had an automotive road to Damascus recently. Well actually the road to Correze. The problem with a Volvo which is very pretty (I know that’s
an oxymoron) but prone to failures of trim is that you don’t really want to get
it dirty. You certainly don’t want to throw pieces of agricultural machinery in
the boot let alone a wet dog or two. There was only one conclusion. It had to
go. No more shiny fake wood. No more air conditioned bum. No more turbo charged
creamy leathered Parker Knoll for the motorways. Something more serviceable and practical was
needed. Something you could swill out and climb a mountain in. Something that
said, “I’ve gone from dull executive type on a career path to an occasionally
lost but more humble and happier I’m not sure exactly what yet”
I think that’s how I found myself in the Landrover
dealership of a Saturday morning. “Would you like a frothy cappuccino from our
Swedish cappuccino machine Suh?”… don’t mind if I do…. “What can we tempt Suh
with this morning? Has he seen the award winning Evoque?” Even if I could
afford it, something that was inspired by Victoria Beckham wasn’t likely to get
me through the snow with a load of logs…
“I was wondering if you had any old Landrover Defenders?” I
stopped short of saying “that no body wants and which need a good home because
that’s about all I can afford”… I think
my face probably communicated it though.
I was discreetly moved to one side, a bit like Norman Wisdom
turning up somewhere posh in one of his films. I was politely seated next to
the accessories – cups, kagools and fleeces bearing the Landrover logo and business
card holders and shiny pens bearing the Range Rover logo. After enough time for
my dreadful frothy coffee to congeal and go cold a nice man came and introduced
himself. John of Used Sales. It sounded momentarily like a title, such as Ann
of Cleves, or Lawrence of Arabia but
hopefully with a slightly less dire outcome.
I explained what I was after and why I needed it. I probably
looked almost convincing but not enough for John of Used Sales to say “have you
ever been in one?” This was code for “are you mad? It’s way too butch for a
prissy parking sensor heated seated electrically folding mirrored homolulu like
yourself”
Fair question. I had actually but I could not remember what
it was like. I seemed to remember stepping out of one as a child and plummeting
for what seemed like an eternity.
Never the less John of Used Sales decided he might have just
the thing for me…. Ushering me out the back door, he took me into a compound.
Amidst a pile of broken cars and trade ins too common for the forecourt, stood
a green beast. Dirty, shabby but standing tall and in full length van version.
A 2003 Landrover Defender 110 Hardtop to give her her full title. She spoke to
me. She said “take me to France and let’s run away together, let’s be born
again together and live happily ever after”. I didn’t kick tyres, suede loafers
would come off worse against these Michelin monsters. I did know however that there and then a test
drive beckoned.
Once I’d climbed inside (literally) I saw that the door
handles were Morris Marina circa 1978, the switchgear Mini/Maxi circa 1970-80,
I was in retro heaven and no-one was going to take me out of it. All I needed
was a pair of Farah slacks and a Farrah flick and the picture was complete.
No buttons, not even a rev counter. No dials or digital
displays, no automatic anything. I felt that this reflected the new me. Simple,
stripped back and hopefully functional.
However this new form of driving would need a transition and
you could take the boy out of the Volvo but not the Volvo out of the boy. “John,
my window seems to be a tad foggy, is there a demisting button for it?” John of
Used Sales coughed and spoke seamlessly, “Use ya sleeve mate”
As I bumbled and bounced along the road, re-acquainting
myself with the concept of a clutch the, car made me smile. It made me realise
that in the grand scheme of life an extra ten seconds to get to 60 mph meant
you actually observed the scenery around you. The deal was done. John of Used
Sales could take Marion of Milton Keynes for a curry that night.
When I got home and explained I’d sold the cow for a bag of
beans, my only defence was “Well the Queen has one” to which David of Much
Patience quietly replied “Yes dear but she also has 25 Rolls Royces”
There was nothing left to do but plan the big trip…. Take
the big beast to France and put her to work on the things she was bought for.
The house is now ours and the fun can begin…….
No comments:
Post a Comment