Phew!

There was a brief moment of panic when, on arriving at the car showroom this morning to collect my new car, a person trying to negotiate the car park almost reversed into my little blue car as I was nipping into a parking space. I managed to swerve out of the way - goodness knows what scenario would have unfolded if my part exchange vehicle had sustained damage within minutes of it being handed over. But nothing did happen, and within 20 minutes I had taken safe delivery of my new car. 

Here it is…

It’s parked on the driveway next to the bird feeding station. I’ve asked the birds, politely and gently, if they would mind not pooping on it for a couple of days at least, so I can enjoy the shiny newness of it. They said okay, they would see what they could do, as I’m so kind with the provision of sunflower seeds, peanuts and fat balls. 

I’m glad I didn’t buy the dealership’s sales package of a set of car mats. I am doubly glad I didn’t buy a cheaper set of car mats ahead of today because when Sam the Salesman took me to the car he said, ‘Oh, there was a set of car mats in the car, so I’ve left them there for you.’ Hurrah! Lesson learned : be patient, you never know what might come along naturally if you can avoid forcing the issue. 

So I got into my new car, adjusted the seat and mirrors, admired the gadgets, buttons and doo-dahs, turned the ignition key and…

…nothing happened. Well, I say ‘nothing’ but the dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree with lots of symbols I’m going to have to study for future reference so I don’t end up shrieking, ‘What does THAT mean?’ followed by a panic attack that the car is about to collapse. I digress…

‘Why won’t it start?’ I said. I tried again. Nope. This car was going nowhere. 

‘Have you got the clutch down?’ said Sam the Salesman. ‘It won’t start unless the clutch is down.’ 

Well, have you ever heard of such a thing?? Clutch down to start a car??? My mother (an ex-driving instructor) would have conniptions at this revelation. I can still hear her when teaching me to drive to ‘always make sure the car is in neutral - foot off the clutch, wobbly gear stick - before you start the engine.’ Anyway, I depressed the clutch and the engine purred into life. (Hark at me being all ‘Top Gear’…)

I was thrilled to see there were only 3 miles on the tachometer. My new car has done 7 miles LESS than the 10 miles I though it had done. I had seven bonus miles! One mile for each of the deadly sins (I don’t know what I said that). There was also a full tank of fuel which, given the lunacy of people panic buying petrol today, I was pleased I had negotiated for on the day I bought the car. I doubt I’ll have to fill up before December, by which time I’m hoping the country will have got a serious grip of itself, or at least will have diverted to panic buying mince pies  and pickled onions instead. Can’t run a car on pickled onions - fact. 

On the way home, Andy tuned the infotainment system for me, by which I mean he pressed a button and found Classic FM. Easy peasy. Whilst driving, I discovered two things about my new car : 1) it has a passive/aggressive light that flashes the word ‘SHIFT’ when it thinks I should be changing gear and 2) that when I stop at, for example, traffic lights, and take the car out of gear whilst I’m waiting to move off again, the car stops, but starts again automatically when I depress the clutch. I don’t know what that’s all about. It made me jump the first time it did it because I thought the engine had stalled. But it hadn’t. So it must be a ‘modern driving’ thing. As for the ‘SHIFT’ command light - well, I’ve got some pretty stickers kicking around somewhere in one of my arty crafty boxes. I might employ one of them, to hide the ‘SHIFT’, as it were. A little bee, perhaps. Or a nice flower. 

Back home I braced myself to deal with making the necessary changes to my insurance policy i.e update it with details of the new car and probably be charged a fortune to continue the cover until the end of the year. I didn’t want to cancel the policy because I didn’t want to incur a cancellation fee. But I was prepared to if they wanted to charge me too much extra for the last five months I had left to run. I logged into my account, changed all the details myself, a new quote was generated and the sum of £34.61 came up! And £25 of that was an administration fee! An administration fee for ME to do all the work! Bloody hell, but insurance companies are thieving bastards, aren’t they? I hope they sleep well at night in their ermine-lined solid gold four poster beds. Pah! Still, only £9.61 extra for the final 5 months of the policy, which I was pleased with because for some irrational reason I was expecting it to be at least another £150. This means, come next February, my insurance won’t cost much more than it has done for the past 15 years or so. And yes, I shall be searching comparison websites to move to a different insurer. Sodding administration fees for being self-service indeed! 

Thus ends the stress and trauma of the whole ‘Shall I Buy A New Car’ saga. I am mightily relieved. I’ve stood at the kitchen window and admired my new car several times today. So far it has stayed free from bird poop. Tomorrow I shall stock up with some proper car shampoo (no washing up liquid for this little beauty!) and a vat of wax polish, to look after it properly. Start as I mean to go on, eh? 

P.S I said to Andy that we ought to change his car, too, as it will be 10 years old next summer. Maybe? He said what he really wants isn’t a new car, but an old truck. So he can cart around bits of wood and crap…