13) LETTER TO MY CAR

 
She's scratched, dented and often mud-splattered on her silver paintworked outside.  She's grey-cushioned and scattered with long journey crumbs on the inside.
But she's safe.
 
She's not the car of my dreams - that would be a green, two-seater, raved about on Top Gear something or other, but where would I drive that anyway?  No, she definitely has the wide-hipped, home-baked, built-for-comfort proportions of a gutsy female. 
 
In snow, pelting rain and in the baking hot rays of the Continent, she's kept me cool enough, warm enough and dry enough.  That was back when the air conditioning worked.  But I'm prepared to tolerate a few imperfections with this old friend.  
 
She may be tired and shabby, like a well-loved cuddly toy, but I have a feeling I like her all the more because all this rather reminds me of myself - slightly world-weary; practical rather than dressy.  And she works.  She knows the road and I know her - exactly how much pressure to put on the steering wheel; how to coast in traffic jams; how long I can get away with the petrol guage telling me it's empty before it really is empty.
 
She's like a trusted friend.  And I wouldn't replace her with anything shinier, speedier or classier until I absolutely have to - never mind what the neighbours think! 

INSPIRED BY http://www.sleepisfortheweak.org.uk/2010/02/22/writing-workshop-14-childhood-passions-and-a-fantasy-shopping-spree/
 
AND  http://itsasmallworldafterallfamily.wordpress.com/2010/02/18/a-letter-to-my-bed/