Because I was drunk
Because that was when I saw this article
Because if you weren’t there you missed the awesome
Next year? Go. Just Go.
Also known as workhorse number three.
In the last 11 years I have owned 9 Renault vehicles. Of those some have been bought for the sheer enjoyment of owning a real drivers car. Others because I have needed cheap(ish) and highly reliable transport due to a daily 106 mile round trip commute.
I’ve loved every one of them, whether cheap and cheerful, or fast and fun, every single one has left its mark. None more so than those I have called my ‘workhorses,’ those cars I have run too and from work, and known well for every single mile.
In 2004 I bought Dizzy, who in 2 years 11 months never once faltered in the 70,697 miles I drove her.
Then, in 2007, came Maggie. Maggie gave me a 3 year 3 week stint, and another faultless 65,000+ mile service before she went back to the ‘shelter’ and I picked up Sheldon.
Sheldon is 2 years, 11 months & 1 week old. He’s been a typical male, with a couple of ‘man flu’ issues, like my £800 bill to fix the air conditioning at 6 months old, which was fortunately reduced to £130 after many arguments with Renault. Then there’s the fact that Sheldon was a ‘tweaked by RenaultSport’ version, as opposed to a ‘standard’ version, at every turn he’s cost me a fortune in the usual consumables, even down to tyres which, had I chosen to replace with the same factory fit versions, cost £160 each.
Aside from all that though, he’s been the best car I’ve owned for a long time. With the previous two I changed them when they genuinely felt ‘worn out,’ like they’d given me enough service and it was time to retire, so some granny could abuse their clutches, and pootle them round town at 12 miles an hour. Sheldon still wants to give me his best. He’s still going at it like he’s had enough speed to last a lifetime and I’m a little sad. I didn’t really want to change my car right now. It’s not the best of times, and I love the damn thing to bits, but the man flu is back.
The MOT is due in 9 days time. The FIRST one. I’ve owned enough cars from new to know that any car should sail through its first MOT. Sadly Sheldon is going to cost me £500+ to do that. Thanks to a £370+ bill just to fix the windscreen wipers, which gave up the ghost last week just as the weather changed, and the rain hit, rendering my car undriveable. It was time for Sheldon to go, even though I didn’t want to change yet, but after 74,965 miles of faithful service a replacement has had, sadly and reluctantly, to be sourced.
With a tear in my eye at saying goodbye, Workhorse number 4 arrived today with just 6 miles under his/her belt, and no, I don’t have a name yet, that will come when I’ve worked out his/her personality, because all cars have one. Just go and watch Herbie The Love Bug, if you don’t believe me.
Now is the turn of workhorse number 4, he/she who is yet to be named….
well, I have no idea.
I’ve had 17 days off work, so am feeling quite refreshed. I’ve had a short break away with the other half and his son, I’ve booked another break for November, and I’ve received quite a few free books in the post….
It’s been a mainly high fortnight, with just the one meltdown in the middle, but it wouldn’t be me without that though, and it’s been really good to just stop doing everything I usually do and recharge my batteries.
Now to catch up with everything I have let slide, because now I have the strength to tackle it all again.
I hate photographs of me, to the extent that I have an official photographer.
I’ve not had one of my best days today, yet for some reason I I decided today would be a good day to take a picture of myself.
The last time I took a picture of myself I liked was about six months before my divorce three years ago.
So colour me surprised when bad day, wine o’clock and impulsive self photography combine to produce one of the best selfies I’ve ever taken.
I’m a little bit in love.
I am a little bit in love with a fictional man.
He’s slightly damaged, has the best of intentions, is out to get the bad guys in any way necessary, and has at times lost more of both himself and of others than he expected along the way.
His name, is Joe Hunter, and he is the creation of author Matt Hilton.
I realised this a little while ago when I was reading Dead Men’s Harvest, the sixth book in the Joe Hunter series, and playing in the background was the latest album of Uncle Kracker, one of my favourite artists. A line from one of his songs suddenly floated out of the air and grabbed my attention, almost as much as the book had been holding it moments before.
“You’re like a sexy little psycho, with an automatic rifle, and I like the way you do what you do”
And that was it, Joe Hunter summed up in a few short words that had me realising how powerful Matt Hilton’s writing is, because I was so completely involved with who this man was, and what he was going through, I was addicted to Joe.
It says on the cover
“if you like Jack Reacher, you’ll love Joe Hunter”
And you know, I really do.