My Car History, Part One.
Thought I'd talk a little about the cars I have owned, good and bad. I have experienced a few cars for somebody who only passed two years ago (First time I might add!).
Number one, was a British racing green (of multiple shades) Triumph Spitfire 1500, that I got at the age of 16, purchased as a kind of 'do something over the summer' thing. I loved sitting in it, although it didn't start, and I had little knowledge of what I was doing at all, apart from polishing knobs, and chrome. Some reason it was nicknamed the 'Winnit mobile', for reasons I really have no clue about. But yeah, that was that, I spent months on end cleaning it, in fact the entire summer, getting embarrassing photographs taken of me looking intently in to the sunset with Ray-bans on, pretending to drive the thing. The fact is, I was 16, where the hell was I going to find £1500 for a new bonnet, or be able to route a whole copper brake pipe system without killing myself or a pedestrian? Yeah, I never did, I bought the beater for £900 and sold it for £1400, a tidy profit of about £50, after pointlessly spending around £200 on a set of brand new carburettors. That's what happened with the first, much promised, nout' fulfilled.
I was one of them guys that had to wait for his first car, the wait killed me! I hated it, it took a month and then a burgundy, yes you read that correct, burgundy Peugeot 206 1.1 walked in to my life. Blimey worth the wait! Er, no. Well what could I have expected? A Ferrari 458? Aim high they said, I tried but ended up with this. Dreary 1.1 litre 206, something your deceased Grandad would have driven, and he wouldn't be seen dead in it. The fact it was burgundy too, I mean who has a burgundy car? Who goes in to a dealer and orders a brand new car in that colour? Clearly the deranged, probably proud owner of this little French Morceau de merde, look it up. Yeah Peugeots always blow a head gasket they told me, and they weren't wrong, mine went on the M1 coming back from London, on the busiest day of the year, and coincidentally the hottest too. So melting away on the side of the motorway, I called the recovery bloke, and sure enough 5 hours later my knight in shining shit arrived. "Headgasket?", "Yep", "Hahaha". Yeah mate you haven't just sat over the other side of the barrier on the M1 for 5 hours next to a burgundy, taking the piss out of you, laughing with a crazed look non-stop in your face, car have you? So I wouldn't laugh. I didn't actually say that, I asked for water, and a service station as I wasn't whipping it out with 500 car's all staring at me, in fact the dreary car might have been enough to distract them, and put them to sleep. Being the hero of an amateur mechanic I was, I thought, 'I'll save me some cash and do it myself'. I did it, I even skimmed it myself, well, used a tonne of sandpaper but still. It was great fun! I almost forgot it was my car I was having such a good time repairing it. My first 'big job' and it was on my 'first' car. But I was proud of it. I fixed that car, from the depth's of the scrap man's big claw. It ran better than ever, I absolutely thrashed it everywhere, it's a first car for god's sake's that is what you're supposed to do right? It loved being thrashed, like some people like a hard spank, 'Ron Burgundy' (Original) loved a bit of rough. It held out until they day I sold it. I sold it for £100 less than I bought if for, I was chuffed to pieces with it! How stupid must they have been to buy it! Unless they fell in love with it at first sight, something I failed to do. But I had a strange affection towards it, especially after the head blew and tried to make me the first person to die of Sun-burn and embarrassment. But it tried to, it did a good job. That's why I ended up mildly liking it, because it tried for me. It was like that horse which is getting on a bit, shit's everywhere, but will carry you're last hay bail up that hill until its legs don't work anymore. That horse was 'Ron Burgundy'.
To be Continued...
Number one, was a British racing green (of multiple shades) Triumph Spitfire 1500, that I got at the age of 16, purchased as a kind of 'do something over the summer' thing. I loved sitting in it, although it didn't start, and I had little knowledge of what I was doing at all, apart from polishing knobs, and chrome. Some reason it was nicknamed the 'Winnit mobile', for reasons I really have no clue about. But yeah, that was that, I spent months on end cleaning it, in fact the entire summer, getting embarrassing photographs taken of me looking intently in to the sunset with Ray-bans on, pretending to drive the thing. The fact is, I was 16, where the hell was I going to find £1500 for a new bonnet, or be able to route a whole copper brake pipe system without killing myself or a pedestrian? Yeah, I never did, I bought the beater for £900 and sold it for £1400, a tidy profit of about £50, after pointlessly spending around £200 on a set of brand new carburettors. That's what happened with the first, much promised, nout' fulfilled.
I was one of them guys that had to wait for his first car, the wait killed me! I hated it, it took a month and then a burgundy, yes you read that correct, burgundy Peugeot 206 1.1 walked in to my life. Blimey worth the wait! Er, no. Well what could I have expected? A Ferrari 458? Aim high they said, I tried but ended up with this. Dreary 1.1 litre 206, something your deceased Grandad would have driven, and he wouldn't be seen dead in it. The fact it was burgundy too, I mean who has a burgundy car? Who goes in to a dealer and orders a brand new car in that colour? Clearly the deranged, probably proud owner of this little French Morceau de merde, look it up. Yeah Peugeots always blow a head gasket they told me, and they weren't wrong, mine went on the M1 coming back from London, on the busiest day of the year, and coincidentally the hottest too. So melting away on the side of the motorway, I called the recovery bloke, and sure enough 5 hours later my knight in shining shit arrived. "Headgasket?", "Yep", "Hahaha". Yeah mate you haven't just sat over the other side of the barrier on the M1 for 5 hours next to a burgundy, taking the piss out of you, laughing with a crazed look non-stop in your face, car have you? So I wouldn't laugh. I didn't actually say that, I asked for water, and a service station as I wasn't whipping it out with 500 car's all staring at me, in fact the dreary car might have been enough to distract them, and put them to sleep. Being the hero of an amateur mechanic I was, I thought, 'I'll save me some cash and do it myself'. I did it, I even skimmed it myself, well, used a tonne of sandpaper but still. It was great fun! I almost forgot it was my car I was having such a good time repairing it. My first 'big job' and it was on my 'first' car. But I was proud of it. I fixed that car, from the depth's of the scrap man's big claw. It ran better than ever, I absolutely thrashed it everywhere, it's a first car for god's sake's that is what you're supposed to do right? It loved being thrashed, like some people like a hard spank, 'Ron Burgundy' (Original) loved a bit of rough. It held out until they day I sold it. I sold it for £100 less than I bought if for, I was chuffed to pieces with it! How stupid must they have been to buy it! Unless they fell in love with it at first sight, something I failed to do. But I had a strange affection towards it, especially after the head blew and tried to make me the first person to die of Sun-burn and embarrassment. But it tried to, it did a good job. That's why I ended up mildly liking it, because it tried for me. It was like that horse which is getting on a bit, shit's everywhere, but will carry you're last hay bail up that hill until its legs don't work anymore. That horse was 'Ron Burgundy'.To be Continued...
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