One of our cars is a very (very) old Toyota. In fact it’s the “original” family Toyota – the Toyota the longevity and reliability of which inspired Toyota loyalty, if not lifelong devotion, within the Chaos family. These days, at least in my area, one very seldom sees cars of the vintage of ours on the roads, unless they are in fact Vintage. Ours is more ‘vintage’ in the sense of a cheap bottle of plonk left sitting at the back of a cupboard for years. Three of its doors don’t open from the outside, one of the windows doesn’t wind, and it can’t be locked, on account of some plonker bust the locks in the process of breaking and entering one dark and (hopefully) rainy night. Sod. I hope he spent our 10c wisely.
But we, and when I say ”we” I mean specifically my husband, continue shamelessly driving the heap to the presumable disapprobation of our neighbourhood, and will do until it drops dead in the traces from exhaustion.
Although I would anthropomorphically feel sorry for the faithful family workhorse were we to send it to scrapyard hell after its years of service, and it’s worth more dead than alive. But who throws away a perfectly good, running car?
I ask that slightly tongue-in-cheek, because I’m well aware that for a lot of people, a certain visual standard also weighs in the equation of decency. But for me, the slight embarrassment is far outweighed by the fact that at this point it’s a free car. I mean, we’re not paying for a replacement, right?
Now all I need is a bumper sticker which says “My other car is – halfway decent….”