My Horse is Dead

My surprisingly faithful and unexpectedly reliable metal horse is dead. The bloke from the breakers yard came to collect it this afternoon and towed it away, leaving me with a small paper slip to send off to the official agencies who watch over these things and two bags of my stuff that used to live in the back of it.

The old Ford Escort Estate gave me good service for eight years, seven more than  I anticipated when I bought it.  It’s carried a lot of loads, taken me to a lot of good surf spots, carried friends, relatives and the occasional stranger, taken dog to good walking destinations, helped me move to a new job in a new town.  I don’t get particularly sentimental about cars, but if they serve me well i do appreciate them as if they had a glimmer of sentience; thank you, car.

I rely on my bike more fully, now, though I have been trying to reduce my driving mileage for the last few years and am used to loading the bike up with laundry or heavy shopping loads; it’s not that difficult really and the loading up time easily beats the time spent searching for parking spaces in the car.

I am looking for a replacement car soon, something very cheap, but I don’t have to rush into that and I feel a paradoxical sense of freedom, no longer having to worry about the car parked on the street and being constrained, temporarily, in carrying only a few things with me on a journey; it simplifies life, reducing the endless decision-making that comes with the much-hyped luxury of “choice”.

Now I have to focus more on the fact that some of the bike parts are wearing out too… a new chainset will be needed soon, wheel rims too… but at least much of that is work that I can do myself, with simpler tools and at lower cost.

So I raise a dram to salute my faithful old steed and to toast my two-wheeled pony.

And so to bed.

Safe journeys to you all.

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