You accumulate a lot of stuff in 81 years - which ended up being shared with my family and others, including the house I currently live in. And amongst all the stuff, he left a car. A car that he went on about constantly, to my complete incomprehension. (I'm sure it's very nice Dad... but it's only a Honda). Since the administration of his estate was a job that fell to me, I thought I'd better clean it up (he'd barely driven it for a year), drive it around for a bit to ensure it was still working and then get rid of it.
Instead, I fell in love with it.
But... that bit about her being pristine is no longer quite true. Because, in mid-December, some dozy woman turned right STRAIGHT INTO THE SIDE OF ME from a sideroad as I returned from dropping Hatty at gym, along Smitham Bottom lane. 'I'm so sorry, I just didn't see you'. Because she had her eyes shut presumably.
Returning from Birmingham this week - a 280 mile round trip - I'd made it all the way to the Reigate exit from the M25, when Waze suggested I might be better off taking a route through the narrow backroads of Chipstead to get home. I wish I'd ignored this advice, but I didn't. I know those roads - but the several drivers around me probably also following Waze clearly didn't. Which is probably why another twonk piled into the back of me at the junction of Doghurst and Hazlewood lanes.
It's a tragedy really. She might be 12 years old, but she'd probably go on for another 12 if twats didn't keep driving into her. This immaculate, beautiful car may only make one more journey.
To the scrapheap.