I bought you from new with less that 15 miles on the clock. You were shiny and new with a sun roof and air conditioning. Over the years you knew the way to Somerset and back : we went to Lancashire and Cornwall. In the dark days when I needed to escape we’d explore for hours the back roads or stop by the sea to listen to the radio, In the good days we went on holiday and you took me safely to and from work no matter where that was. But as the years went on the service no longer fixed all the rattles and one evening someone ran a key down your side. As if complaining at all the travel you developed some annoying and concerning habits and eventually it seemed that despite new tyres and some TLC some things could not be forgotten.

Today was our last adventure. A last drive out with the roof back and all the windows open. I’d tried to convince myself that the final clean made you go better and that somehow, magically, it had fixed all the issues but it wasn’t to be. The kids had left you a farewell note and I’d cleaned out all the things I’d accumulated over the years : the Thai airways sick back Richard had given to me (luckily empty) and the parking ticket I’d kept from the last time I went to Cornwall.

So, as I stood turning the key in the driver’s door, watching as all your windows and roof closed automatically I felt a little sad, a little as if I’d betrayed you but it was for the best and better to part now than watch you towed away.

Farewell and thank you.