A tale of five cars

Once upon a time there lived a man who had a car. Nothing exotic, a mere diesel car in bright red, apart from the bits of body which looked distinctly more pinkish.

One day, tragedy struck. The poor lad was rear ended, and no, not in that way. To make it short, the car was deemed a total loss. And with this, the first car a tale of epic non-epicness starts.

The second car was bright blue, ran on petrol, guzzled it up, and its transmission appears to have had better days. Which was okay, since it was a rental car, and not something he'd be stuck with.

Soon after, car three was found. It was a beautiful blue, wonderfully diesely, an automatic to boot, and best of all, exempt from tax. And not that many miles on the clock either.

So far, so good, so what you may ask? Enter the day I could pick up the new lovely diesely car. Turns out the transmission was truly and welly fucked. And when I say fucked I mean fucked, I mean fucked.

No problem, as I would get another rental car. An old beastie for sure, as it was petrolly and had a choke. Remember those things boys and girls? It was either good at helping the engine start when it was cold, or flood it. And flood it, it did. Without so much as a warnin. The sheer floodiness should have come with instructions for building an ark.

Never mind, they had another car. Petrolly, no chokey, soddin' big crack in the windscreen, and an interior tighter than a Scottish wallet.

So there you have, five cars, one which was mine, one which is, but not quite there, and soddin' great expenses at the pump.

Oh, and of course it completely fucks with my social life (well, you know, gigs). I can only quote the great Kunt of "And the Gang" fame: "Fucksticks!"

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