Break-ups and breakdowns.
About four short hours ago, I was forced to face up to the fact that in mere days, I would have to say goodbye to the love of my life. And, about an hour ago – when the tears and hysteria had eventually subsided – I called one of my best friends to console me as I felt he was the only one who might possibly understand my awful predicament.
“So essentially you’re grieving for a car?” he said. Not exactly. That would mean that the car would be no more. Instead, I would have to deal with knowing that she was out there somewhere living life to the full without me. Granted, it was more like a break-up.
Whilst I can fully appreciate how ridiculous this idea might be to anyone who isn’t a self-confessed petrol-head, I maintain – that currently – this is exactly what I am going through.
“I am breaking up with my car and for those of you who will never understand the complex relationship between man (or in this case woman) and machine, let me enlighten you.”
Trying to explain the gravitas of this emotional situation to one of my girlfriends, I suggested that the emotional turmoil I was currently experiencing could be equal to – if not greater than – that of the breakup of a relationship. Believe me when I say, I’ve had my fair share of those!
The fact was, this was one relationship that hadn’t broken down. I didn’t want to end it and why would I?
Unlike the boyfriends of yesteryear, there had been no empty promises, forgotten birthdays or inappropriate drunken behaviour. Instead I had found the most faithful companion made of metal who was reliable, performed above and beyond any expectations I may have initially had and above all, never once let me down.
Whilst financially the writing was on the wall, the first pang of guilt hit as I placed the dreaded ‘For sale’ sign in the window, and I actually found myself uttering the words out loud, “It’s not you. It’s me.” Followed by, “We just want different things.”
However cliched the phrasing, it was true. I was destined for a new life in London and could no longer provide my car with the lifestyle she had become accustomed to. Burning petrol and rubber might be tremendous fun but it was also beginning to burn a hole in my pocket. Said hole would soon need to be sewn up to store what little shrapnel was left and could be exchanged to top up a plastic card and open up TFL’s public transport system to me - the world would be my Oyster!
No matter how much you tell yourself your mind is made up, making a decision to part ways is never an easy one. Be it man or machine, whilst you have good reasons – and your friends tell you it’s the sensible thing to do – it’s easy to reminisce and ruminate on what made you fall in love, the good times you shared together and question your decision.
If anything, with a boyfriend it’s easier. You’ll never have to sing his praises to future potential suitors and although you know that one day he’ll be happy with someone new, you certainly don’t have to do any match-making or wave them off into the sunset with their new partner.
“Watching your cars new keeper put them through their paces performance-wise may be slightly sickening but it’s not half as outrageous as the same scenario being applied to your ex-boyfriend!”
And, with a car, at least there’s also a healthy cash compensation for any emotional damage incurred.
Me and my car. We are quite literally moving in deferent directions and I know the only solution is for us to go our separate ways. I wish her all the best. I want her to find happiness with someone who will love her but frankly, if that someone can’t be me I’d rather not be there to see it.