I am mid-30's now, but when I was about 20 in England the love of my life wasn't a man - or not one man, anyway. It was an elderly dark green MG Midget. The car wasn't that quick and it was a bit unreliable, but it gave me a tremendous kick to drive along with the wind in my hair and be a bit of a show-off. On fine days, that was - on wet days the roof leaked and it misted up badly, and I cursed it regularly.
The car had been the unintentional gift to me of my grandfather. When he died he left me some money in the confident hope, I think, that I would spend it on books or a study tour or something, but I had wanted the freedom of a car more and when I came home from university that summer in the Midget with all my belongings strewn over the car and tied on to the flimsy luggage rack on the boot, my parents were kind enough not to mention it after the first few days. The car had wire wheels which I had painstakingly polished, and it looked such fun glinting in the sunshine that Dad, at least, didn't need too much convincing.
However, it was unreliable. I got to know the local garage quite well over the next few months, and they kept it on the road for me without taking all my student grant. There was only one big bill, and Dad helped out with that on the basis that I was saving wear and tear on his car by having my own (that's what he told Mum, anyway).
One of the guys at the garage was Greg, and I must admit he was a bit hunky - big and dark-skinned, with bright blue eyes and an easy smile. He used to flirt with me whenever I came in, and I enjoyed it and gave as good as I got. He would leap down into the inspection pit as I walked up on the basis that 'the view was better from down there', and I would challenge him to tell me what colour my knickers were today. Once he waved an inspection lamp at me to get a better look and I got quite a surprise. I kept a couple of steps further away from the edge of the pit after that, but it was all good harmless fun. I think it kept the bills down, too! One day I would get even with him for that, but I hadn't yet worked out how.
Anyway, one day I collected the car after an oil change or something and we had our usual banter before I handed over another chunk of grant and headed off to town. I hadn't gone more than a couple of miles, though, when I became aware of a thick smell. When I stopped at the lights I could see smoke starting to appear from beneath the bonnet, so I turned round and headed back. Greg had once left a spanner inside the air filter, so I thought he'd stuffed up again.
The smell got worse and soon I could see the smoke even when I was moving, and I started to think that I should get out now. But I was on a busy road with nowhere to stop and a juggernaut on my tail, so I had to keep going or be mown down by a huge truck. 'Just a bit longer,' I kept telling myself, but I was getting frightened. At last I reached the turn-off, then I switched off the ignition and jumped out. The smoke didn't seem quite so bad now, and I was at the top of a hill so after a couple of minutes I climbed gingerly back in and let off the handbrake. Thanks to the hill I was able to coast all the way down into the small forecourt of the garage. The smoke started coming again on the way down, and by the time I got there it looked pretty awful. As I climbed out, spluttering a bit, I could see Greg rushing towards me with a fire extinguisher.
'What the hell have you done this time?' I yelled at him. 'Are you trying to kill me or something?'
He opened the bonnet gingerly, but there were no flames - just a sticky coating of oil over everything. It was all smoking off the exhaust and smelled awful.
'You've got a leak,' he said. 'You forgot to tighten something up, you mean,' I said, still angry and still a little scared. He shook his head. 'No, not that,' he said. 'Better have a look.' He produced a whole heap of old towels and wiped the worst off the engine, then wrapped a clean one around the steering wheel and pushed my poor little car forward over the pit. Clutching another bundle of towels he disappeared over the edge while I helped myself to the cup of coffee he'd obviously just made himself. I reckoned it was the least he could do for me.
I drank the coffee and felt better. I'd had a nasty fright and was actually a touch shaky, but I felt relieved. My pulse was racing and I was quite excited - it must have been the adrenaline rush. I'd get Greg for this, I thought.
'Aha,' came an echo-ey sound from the pit, and forgetting myself I walked over to the edge. No worry, Greg wasn't looking. 'You've got a hole in the hose here,' he said. 'Must have blown when I topped the oil up. Once you had the right amount in there, it couldn't take the pressure. Come and have a look.'