R.I.P. Lady

A very sad thing happened last week... I had to send my beloved, battered old 1985 Corolla away to live on a farm.

I've always felt that it's important for old cars to have names. That way, when they break down you're more likely to stroke their bonnet and murmur soothingly rather than hitting them with a large stick and yelling, "You stupid pile of #@*%!!!" So I named my car as soon as I bought her. Her rego plates were NUD148 and so after some thought I named her Lady, short for Lady Godiva. I was surprised at how many people I had to explain that to over the past 4 years!

She may not have been much of a car, but she was the first car I bought all on my own and she got me from A to B reasonably reliably (all things considered) for 4 years. My old flatmate Les and I even managed to move a modular lounge in her, piece by piece, when we moved flats! So I had a pretty emotional attachment to her, and tears were shed on more than one occasion before we parted. Apart from the emotional attachment, my student's budget didn't allow for spending several hundred dollars on repairs OR for purchasing a new car, so I was loath to let her go until I was absolutely sure that we had done all we could.

I must give thanks here to my dear friend Dave, who went well beyond the call of duty by putting a fair bit of time and effort into advising me, helping me replace the front engine mount, rescuing me and my un-registered, broken-down Lady from a particularly traumatic experience involving two policemen and a potential raceday roadrage incident, offering to pay for the necessary repairs to be done professionally, and finally just letting me cry on his shoulder when it came time to remove the rego plates. He also lent me his old Mazda 1300 (whose name is Cedric) to go to the wrecker's to get some parts. I think arriving behind the wheel of Ceddy upped my credibility with the guys there no end! Although I may have put somewhat of a hole in that when they asked me if he was an R100. I didn't know what that meant. I froze like a rabbit in headlights, then panicked, stroked his bonnet and said, "Err... his name is Cedric".

R.I.P. Lady! You will be missed...