by Jane Room
' A bit of nostalgia gives your mood a boost .... '
My first car was definitely female, her curvaceous lines were clad in black and she was nicely rounded rather than being sleek and aggressive. She had to be coaxed to start on cold winter mornings, a little choke and a brief tickle on the accelerator until she coughed into life but once persuaded would purr along happily. She had wind down windows and a large rounded knob on the dashboard which had to be flipped right or left to operate the indicators and shiny chrome mirrors on each wing. She arrived in my life in my twenty first year and life as a result, was transformed.
Instead of Shanks’s pony or a bicycle to transport me around my university city, my trusty friend opened up not only the Kingdom of Fife but the whole of Scotland. She was my workhorse but also my passport to adventure. She would carry me to Tentsmuir forest and beautiful deserted beaches with golden sand and the smell of spume and seaweed blowing in off the sea; to Lunan Bay (and the best Pimms in the world with multicoloured sugar crystals garnering the rim of the glass) and to Newport and the University sailing club nestled on the edge of the Tay stretching wide and silver before me. So many happy days spent falling in and out of boats in all sorts of waters, sometimes calm, sometimes stormy. She would chug her way up to the top of the Spittal of Glenshee in winter snow (provided with a good set of winter tyres on her wheels) just so I could come whizzing down again with two planks of wood and lace up boots strapped to my feet.
She would take me as a student to all my placements, to Stracathro and Crieff and later on to work every day. She carried me safely, whatever the weather, each time I made the long journey to and from the West riding of Yorkshire and cruised along the motorways at (or sometimes above) the national speed limit. On summer evenings she would transport me West to the Opera in Glasgow or South to the Edinburgh Festival to plays and comedy gigs. Her name was Katy, she was an A35 and I loved her.
' .... A sense that life is worth living' quote from Meik Wiking
© Copyright Jane Room, THACS Writers Online 2020