Good little motor

One of the benefits of being young and female and having a beat up little car is that you can turn up for MOT, ask them to call you before doing any remedial work bar lightbulbs as, and I quote, “it’s not worth it”. The end result is your car passes with flying colours, despite having one bumper held in place with gaffer tape and more funny noises than a tuba player on nitrous. If you are really lucky, the mechanic may even say “they’re tough little cars these ones, aren’t they?” and comment on how well it’s been looked after.

Another car related joy; the mothers of the children of the school opposite have an inbuilt fear that walking a few blocks away will cause their poor darlings to collapse from exhaustion. Bless. So, kindly maternal figures they are, they all descend upon my road at 3.30 to await the egress of their spawn. Some, being so devoted to their children they will risk the wrath of local inhabitants will park across driveways. So, upon returning from said MOT with fantabulous and well looked after little car, I found one of these spawn-producers blocking my driveway when there was a perfectly adequate space on the curb behind her. I followed the ritual of beeping and gesturing to her to move herself forthwith, and watched with extreme amusment as she panicked and backed into a lamppost.

I do enjoy it when bad things happen to crap drivers. Mwahahaha!