Hump

The only way this week could have been worse is if I’d ended up with Ebola.
Arguments with Philippa, nothing but hassle at work, agony from my shoulder, and now TheLoveMachine may have to be condemned. My poor baby is making horrible noises in so many different places I’m worried she’s about to fall apart. I think she might be in even more pain than I am. Philippa has been pestering me for ages to get something more reliable so now she’s giving me the ‘told you so’ look. Why can’t cars just WORK? Why do we have to care for them, and clean them, and get them serviced, and keep them watered, and replace bits of them, only to have them screw up and die anyway? I’ve made some phone calls and looked around online and all the VW garages are ludicrously pricey. The phrase ‘good money after bad’ is finally making sense to me. I might have to admit defeat and look for something newer. I’m told that these camper vans are highly saught-after so maybe I can find some sucker with a love for 70s transport who can take her off my hands without listening to her.
Trouble is, I feel like such a traitor. TheLoveMachine is my first ever motor vehicle, how can I desert her when she needs supporting most? Doesn’t that make me as bad as a mother who abandons her children? Or a man who leaves his wife to move in with the girl from the Off-Licence? Will any car I buy in the future ever be able to trust me? Could I promise them this won’t happen again???
Sometimes I wonder what the Hell might be wrong with me. ….

RC 17-5-13