Where my old car’s concerned, familiarity breeds contentment

The Car

The car has got to go.

I’ve known its time with me was almost up

For as long as the history of its little grievances

And escalating ills.

Thirteen years ago I paid the catastrophic bills

For its second-hand car surgery

Shortly after ownership,

But now I’m faced with the steady drip

As it simply wears away. Eighteen years old

It should be getting the vote.

It still accelerates faster than a cougar

But the rusting undercarriage has developed a hole

That I know will be followed by others,

And the petrol flap sticks,

And the engine light comes on

For a long-ago fault that’s now gone.

Day after day I scour the internet

For a second-hand car that’s as quick

Without auto-dip headlights and lane assist,

And that in all other ways is exactly the same.