Saturday lunchtime my Corsa was back home, safe in its garage.Three weeks ago it suddenly stopped, like the severest heart attack, it literally died. It was a sunday afternoon. We called the motoring paramedics and within an hour the man who can had towed it to the garage. We pulled onto the garage forecourt and I slowly walked into the reception feeling full of woe. The salesman explained the service department was fully booked until thursday so I took out my personal effects i.e. my works parking permit and my driving specs and had a lift back home.
Diagnosis was bad, my Corsa needed many new parts and a figure of £1600 quoted. Now the dilemma, buy a new car, buy a second hand car or repair my little Corsa. First option: I didn't want to spend a shed load of money. Second option: I didn't want to buy something that might die on me in a few months so I took the third option. my Corsa is eight years old, bought for my 50th birthday and has only 18,000 miles on the clock, looks new if it wasn't the old shape.
So my car has a new heart, I'm hoping it wont reject it or another organ fails. I think about its automatic transmission and I banish those thoughts. It is well and motoring well. Sometimes I think I'm a witch because if I think of something occassionally it happens. Like when my daughter was eating lashings of salad cream and I said you'll get mouth ulcers, next morning she woke with a huge, painful one. I know its co-incidence but I'm training myself to think only positive thought now :)
The good thing about my Corsa being seriously poorly was I took the bus to work. Now thats leads to Tales of the Bus but those stories I will leave for another day.