VFC

Some time ago I saw a postcard on PostSecret talking about long car journeys. The sender said that when travelling long distances and noticing another vehicle keeping pace with you for a long time, it was like you were automatic car buddies. As is often the case with the revealed secrets it struck a chord.
I wanted to add that postcard to this post, I googled and googled but it was not to be found anywhere.

I've always felt that camaraderie with other vehicles on the road as we travel along together. A brief vehicular friendship.
Unless they drive too close, in that case we are sworn enemies.
Or they don't use their lights in poor visibility.
Or they fail to indicate.
There are strict rules on my vehicular friendship apparently.

I do have a point...I'm just taking a somewhat circuitous route to get to it.

So, last week, I took a drive over to Wales to see some friends for the day.
I love being in my car and I love to drive. I love my music and the road beneath my wheels. It was a really nice drive, then I got stuck behind someone doing 40 in a 60. (This is an automatic ban from any vehicular friendship.)
As I waited for an opportunity to overtake, a blue van approached behind me, settling just a fraction too close for my liking - getting close to not being allowed into my vehicular friendship club (let's say VFC for short, it's one hell of a mouthful else).
The moment arose, a clear stretch of road opened up, I dropped down a gear and whizzed past the slowcoach.
I continued my journey and a little while later, the blue van reappeared in my rear view mirror.
I offered my mental congratulations on their success in also separating from the slowcoach.
On we went. As the miles passed and we took the same roads time and again, the blue van was a fully fledged member of the VFC. I'm not sure how long we hung out together, maybe an hour. At each turn I willed the blue van to keep following. How long could we possibly go in the same direction?

Finally, my google sat nav instructed me to turn left at the next roundabout. I put on my indicator.
Oh no!
Blue van was going straight on!
This was it, we were to be separated. I had a moment of sadness, then, sensing our imminent separation, blue van's lights flash-flash-flashed. Blue van was bidding me farewell! I held up my left arm and waved emphatically. 
It was a two-way friendship!
Goodbye blue van friend!

I sighed and carried on.
And then....

Then I discovered google had royally shafted me and sent me to the wrong place.
I should have gone straight on at the roundabout.
Google separated me from my blue van friend too soon, too soon.

I'd input the whole address of where I was going, but google had seen fit to override the post code and send me somewhere with a similar first line to the address, but whilst I'm sure it was lovely, I had no desire to visit a large organic farm. I wanted to see my friends!

I changed the address to just the post code and set off again. This time alone, no blue van friend to accompany me.

I miss you blue van friend, I hope your day was as lovely as mine.

Jeff & Tilda

Jeff started misbehaving on the journey home from the Christmas cottage and in the new year she went straight to see her favourite mechanic, she spent some time there and was finally better.  I brought her home and she went wrong again the very next day, so back to the garage she went, then they couldn't repair her so off she went to a new garage, where she stayed for some time, eventually coming home again.
A day or so later one of her wipers stopped working. 
I was about to tear my hair out, whipped it back to the garage and it took less than a minute to fix. I whooped with joy!
But it had become clear that my beloved Jeff would have to be rehomed.
Look at her though, look how damned adorable she is:

I'm not even sorry about how much I love that little car with the big bottom.  Everything just fits neatly into the boot. I once got a fridge in there, standing, without even having to put the seats down.
I mean she had her quirks, when you unlocked the doors the radio immediately started playing.  And continued playing when you stopped the car and locked it.  She wasn't too fond of hills, but then, neither am I, so all power to her.  Also, when people moaned about how the sun was low in the sky and always in their eyes when driving, I never understood what they were complaining about, because she was so tall, the sun was never in my eyes.
But, it had to be done, Jeff had to find someone new to love her.
And I had to find someone new to love.
So, after searching and interacting with one too many idiotic car salesmen, getting advice from my mechanic and doing test drives, I came home with Tilda.
Behold, Tilda:

She's a little more anonymous than Jeff was, I liked the way Jeff stood out in a crowd, you never lost her in a car park, but Tilda has her plus points, she doesn't appear to demand regular attention from my mechanic - definite bonus.  She also responds when the pedal is, as they say, to the metal. She's a nippy wee thing. Whilst she isn't large of arse, with the seats down, it's still a sizeable space so I should be able to shove all my nonsense in there!
Also, she is sporting a fine CD player. I cannot drive without music, one must have music!
And, because I am the provider of sweets, she has plenty of storage for the boxes of sweets that my friends raid on every journey.
And, last but not least, what Tilda and Jeff have in common, they both have a kitty on the rear window, with a wiper shaped tail:

That makes her a little less anonymous and a little more quirky...although I feel sure she needs one or two touches more...

On a final note, I had bitched & moaned that, for some reason the power point that I wanted to plug my phone charger in to, wouldn't accept any of the chargers I owned, it was simply too shallow.  
My good friend came round to investigate.
There's something stuck in there he proclaims.
I dismiss this idea, thinking there can't possibly be something stuck in there that happens to be the exact same diameter as the power point. 
He insists.
Get me something to poke it with.
I deliver pokey tools.
Upon insertion of pokey tool there is a spark.  And a jump. And gales of laughter from me.
No wee came out, but it was close.
Would you believe it, he was right, a magnet had been shoved down the power point, the magnet was retrieved!
Hurrah!
Now the charger fit like a dream!
Except the spark had blown the fuse.
Oops.
Off to my mechanic.  New fuse obtained. And I jolly well fitted it myself.
So everything now works perfectly & I now know how to change fuses in my car.
Check me.  Like a goddamn grown-up.

I still miss Jeff desperately, but Tilda & I are getting along splendidly, I just hope Jeff finds a new home where they're kind to her.  Because I'm sentimental, and not sorry :)