A new month and a new start in many different ways.
The greatest, however, is that I am no longer carless.
As I mentioned three months ago I drove my Chevy to the levee . . .
Well not really, for levee read scrapyard and the only driving in this case was them sending a car transporter around and loading my Chevy before driving away in the rain.
Yes, those were raindrops rolling my face, honest.
I said then, and I’ll say it again now, a car is a means of transport, and it is a means of transport that I control. Unlike a bus or a taxi. It is not something I feel strongly about. That feeling is reserved for books.
It doesn’t mean I won’t feel a loss. Thirteen years with the same car is a first for me and I will have to see how I do with its replacement.
It has actually taken the best part of those three months to track down a new (by new I mean secondhand but new to me) car and that search has led to two more firsts.
The first of these was that the car would be an automatic and this, along with wanting a petrol car not a diesel, was a major factor in the hunt.
All three of my children have laughed at the fact that I have only owned manual gearbox cars. They point out to me that life is much easier with an automatic and only one foot is needed to do all the work.
My darling wife also thinks an automatic will take some of the strain off driving. She knows well that the long journeys these days are not as easy on my legs and feet as they were 40 or 50 years ago.
Not that I haven’t driven automatics before. I may be mistaken but I am sure Harry Corbett’s Range Rover was an automatic and I often drove it on the tour. Also I have driven many cars on test drives, especially when I ewas working in the Middle East.
The conditions of an automatic, petrol-powered secondhand car do tend to narrow the choice, and wanting to view within 30 miles of home narrows it even more. That distance was on the basis that I would have to be driven to a viewing by my dear daughter and, as she is a school teacher (well, deputy head actually), this meant either weekends or a school holiday.
I finally narrowed it down to 12 and then the hard work began on the matter of making a final decision.
Information provided meant some were taken out of the mix, too short an MoT certificate; a history of accident damage which had been repaired; even colour. But finally we had it down to three.
Distance and direction meant it would be difficult to see all three and then make a choice, but happily one was ruled out because it was sold on the very day we would be going out to view.
The two left were in completely opposite directions so I had to choose the best for a view and if that was ruled out we would probably have to go and view the other one the next day.
They were pumping up two of the tyres when we arrived and then gave the car a power hose down – it had been parked under some trees.
In viewing online, and knowing what the car would have looked like in the day when it was a top of the range saloon, it actually looked quite small, but that was more a trick of the eye as it was parked between two SUVs, or Chelsea tractors as many of us call these abominable machines.
It was brought out into the open space and the bonnet and boot were opened up to allow a full inspection. My daughter and I put on our “we know what we are looking at” faces and had a good look at it, including getting them to power up and rev up so that we could listen to the engine.
It was actually quite smooth and quiet considering the power of the engine.
Next came the obligatory test drive and by the time we returned I had decided the car was just right. Now it came down to settling on a price, including delivery.
I have done my share of haggling but here I passed it over to the expert, my dear daughter who has done a lot of travelling to exotic places where tradespeople feel cheated if you don’t haggle.
It paid off because she got £200 knocked off the price with delivery included. She’s due a big box of chocs.
All this is why I am now the proud owner of my first ever Ford and Henry F would appreciate it that the car itself is black.
The downside is that the car turns me into Blair’s target voter – Mondeo Man. Yes, my new car is a Ford Mondeo Ghia X.
What is worse I have another link with Mondeo Man, I lived in Essex for a number of years, not only that but it was Basildon in Essex where I lived and worked.
In actual fact the whole Mondeo Man was a bit of a set-up because the Essex man Blair met, and who revealed to Blair that he was the up and coming man who wanted his own car and to own his own home, actually drove a Ford Sierra.
By the time the 1997 election came round the Sierra had been phased out in favour of the new Mondeo. But that didn’t phase Blair. He just changed the single word in his little tale and Mondeo Man was born.
My transport as of 1 November 2023 – a top of the range /Mondeo
Robin's Nest 