I have quite a history with driving. One I’m sure we’ll delve into in the future, but to spoil things a little: I think I must have failed a driving test on nearly every road in Scunthorpe.
Driving comes easy to some people, and I’ve always been a little jealous of that. The compromise that seems to work? Using an automatic car to simplify the controls, and Google Maps to prompt each direction.
The moment I saw Bob’s advert on Auto Trader, I was thrilled to see he ticked all the boxes. My previous cars had all died with some kind of electrical failure, usually in the manual hybrid gearboxes. Bob has an old CVT gearbox. The controls are so simple he could be a go‑kart. A true old automatic.
Right here is where I probably made my mistake. Bob is old — sixteen years old at this point. He has one red mirror and one black. His paintwork has gone a little dull with time. His last MOT revealed his aches and pains with the amount of rust cautions on there.
The first trip to see my dad in the new car got a few comments… ones like “How much did you pay for that!”, the shake of the head, and “They saw you coming.”
Bob was giving a bit of a groan when pulling off, so I took him to my local mechanic for a gear‑oil change. He too had a similar viewpoint to my dad: “I’m just saying, don’t throw a load of money at him.”
The consensus seems to be that Bob is terminal. But aren’t we all?
The two previous cars (one much newer than Bob) let me down with those electrical failures I mentioned. I’m not precious about him getting a knock when parked up. Above all, I don’t like many cars — but I like Bob.
So come MOT time next year, will it be time to say goodbye? Or am I likely to be looking for some welding for Bob to dodge the car grim reaper for another year?
I know which one my heart is saying. But for now: keep going, Bob. Please keep going.