Vroom Vroom

Over the festive period I realised that as much as I love the MR2, the Director loves her more. Despite my sobbing pleas, begging and general arse kissing, he was adamant that while he was more than happy for me to be bombing around the Norfolk countryside in her, she was still his and her return would be eventual.

The problem with driving a fabulous red sports car, is that it rather spoils you for anything sensible. Viking loves his Ford Focus and made many attempts to impress upon me how good, reliable, quick and affordable the brand; his brother and father also drive various versions thereof. I took his advice and whiled away many a half hour on Parkers and compared performance, price and sexiness of several brands of car.

I made the mistake of looking at the local BMW dealership website. Oops! Who told me to do that? I think Boy was disconcerted at the site of me moping up the keyboard and refused to have anything to do with me and the car search. Apparently, I was embarrasing. Hah! He only knows the half of it.

One manic Saturday, Alix and I had coffee and cake and I invited her to come for a drive with me out to the dealership. Oh Boy. Mistake number 2. BMW know all about customer service, I can tell you. We waltzed in, aiming for nonchalance as these beautiful, expensive driving machines glittered at us (I say 'we' and 'us', read 'I' and 'me', Alix had her eye on the Mini Coopers). We were escorted to a waiting room, given tea and coffee. A very nice man came along, introduced himself and asked our requirements. After he did a computer search and we finished our coffee he took us out to see the most gorgeous car. I fell deeply in love. It was a Series 1, 123d in black. It had more buttons and switches on the dash than the shuttle Endeavour. It was amazing. We took it out for a test drive. OMG! Sex on wheels. At one point I glanced down and I realised I was doing 90 mph and we were just floating along.

Alix dragged me out of the dealership, sobbing. I had to do some research on the insurance. It was just as well I was sitting down at the time. The quote was hideous. I mean, even too hideous for me to even contemplate, even at my most retail therapy blinkerd state. With a heavy heart, I realised I'd fallen for the Bad Boy, I wanted a long-term relationship and this Bad Boy would just be Bad News.

I went along to a local Ford Garage to look at a sporty and completely specked out Fiesta ST. It was black, had heated seats, privacy glass, electric windows, leather seats and was obviously much cheaper price-wise than the Bad Boy. Then I started asking about pesky things, like fuel consumption and to my complete surprise although both cars had 2 litre engines, the Bad Boy was quicker and far more environmentally friends. The dealer, seeing an opportunity and my obvious love for Beemer, showed me his daughter's car which was the step down and therefore a step down in insurance and car tax. I thanked him for his time and hot footed it back to the dealership. I figured I would be better off buying from the proper dealership which could provide all the warranties and bits and pieces necessary.

The brilliant salesman who dealt with us before was unavailble, but I was still treated to coffee and biscuits while they looked for something more...sensible. As they found a car, the brilliant salesman walked in and took over, he showed me round both cars so I could compare like with like. I asked him at one point if he'd pop the hood which he did and to his complete bemusement I asked him if it would be inappropriate if I licked the engine. I made an appointment to test drive both cars, the Bad Boy and his Reliable Cousin two days later, I wanted to take my time making the decision.

I test drove both. Yes, the Reliable Cousin is not as light on his feet than the Bad Boy; but, he was no slow poke either. And of the choice of the range, the Series 118d, gives the best mpg to engine performance. It's got excellent environmental credentials, it's also a damn site safer than the MR2, with crumple zones, 6 air bags and traction control. True, it lacks many of the bells and whistles of the Bad Boy, but let's be honest about this, it's not like I'm going to be spending my time fiddling with them...I'd have to read the manual and I'd sooner eat my own toenails quite frankly. Give me something I can plug and play and I'm a happy bunny.

To cut a very long story short, the Reliable Cousin is now parked outside and when I look out the window, the frost is sparkling in the full-moonlight. I think ours will be a relationship based on trust and respect and as long as the idiots maintain their personal space, it'll be a lasting one.


  1. Ah I guessed as much!

    Can't wait to see how gorgeous he is. Just two questions. Will greasy chicken be allowed in it (properly bagged of course) and will those firemen be able to follow? ;)

  2. hottie ~ greasy chicken, in my new car? Are you tripping? No way! Not for the first 6 months.

    As for firemen, I'm on sabbatical at the moment, they'll have to wait.

  3. You mean I missed an opportuinity for biscuits?

  4. ing ~ fraid so hon. They were the thin crunchy coffee biscuits. Om nom nom.


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