Clueless and Carless

Okay. Reality check. I actually have to go out and buy a car. Fuck me! As my mate Josh would say, no sweetie, you do it! You! You sweetie!

I have no car, now who'd have thought that was a possibility, oh, even a month ago? I have to go through the process... that damn process. Looking, looking... yes, it looks nice. Can I take it to a mechanic? No, I won't buy it without a mechanical check. Oh, what Mr Mechanic, it amounts to fraud?

Back to the beginning. Er! I'm bored already. (Check out his arse in those overalls, will ya.)

I rode my bike over to Lottie's yesterday, by the Yarra, it was picturesque. Blue sky. A cool breaze. A gorgeous sun. I haven't ridden for a couple of months and it nearly killed me, but that is another story.
Which leads me onto two things -

1 - I'm actually enjoying not having a car. It's really kind of cool to catch trams and trains and ox-carts to get to wherever I'm going. There is something primitive, certainly unhurried and relaxing about it; like growing your own vegetables, instead of going to the supermarket, making your own cakes instead of going to Mrs Cho's. I mean, there is less instant gratification, more of the slow food feel, as opposed to the fast food don't-even-touch-the-sides experience, only wanting more an hour later. It is some how more satisfying, relying on one's own means.

2 - I do, actually, still own a car, an A1 1967 BRG Mini Cooper S, but it's tucked away in storage. I guess I should just drive that. But he might get scratched! Pathetic, I know.

Traditionally, I'm a car nut. I know all there is to know about them. My first words on the back seat of Lottie's old Holden, all those years ago, were... Same model different colour, for the universes sake! So, why can I raise about as much interest in buying a car as swallowing gold fish alive? I don't get it.
I looked at a $30,000 Subaru WRX, black on black. Very cool. I looked at a $1000 classic turbo charged Saab, silver with burgundy leather interior. Nice style. I ran my fingers over a gorgeous, white Triumph TR7 sports car. 5 grand and it would have been mine - although, there is something to be said for not buying British cars from the 1970's, the height of their shitful quality control. I found exactly the car I was going to trade my (now burnt) Peugeot in on, a demo 206 GTI 180, also black. Lovely. 1000 k's on the clock. I even found a beautiful Rover P6B, just like the one I sold, not long before the Peugeot went poof!... to the beautiful... er... poof... Stuart.

I even entertained, for a milli second, one of those hybrid Toyota things - but I just don't care that much about the environment, to be truthful, to compromise my driving experience - even if I have chosen, for the past five years, to only take jobs which I could walk to, so I'm not contributing to the denigration of the planet.

Nothing! Not a sausage of interest. Bored already. Lets eat cake. Have Tom and Katie shown Suri to the world yet?

It's denial, I know.

I even had a dream where my best mate, Tom, just kept saying to everyone, Actually no, Christian never did buy another car.

Truthfully, I don't need a car - the fact that, up until recently, I owned four, none of which I drove on a regular basis, always seemed to tickle people - and as Jeff and Raymond suggested the other day, I could really join the Fitzroy car co-op, which was set-up for people just like me and I could drive one of those Smart cars when the driving need so arose.

I could I live without a car?

"We need a car," said Lottie yesterday, when were talking about petrol for the mower. "If you don't get one soon, I'll have to buy one myself."

And that, my friends, was the most sensible suggestion of the week.

But, you know, there are those times where a car is convenient. So, I've decided that, maybe, I'm going to look at Alfa Romeo GTV's. A V6 would be nice. The sound of a classic 20 year old Alfa spurting into life, is akin to the sound of a 20 year old Italian boy spurting into life; watch that gorgeous exhaust pipe waggle as the drops of fluid drip out the end. Now, with that thought in mind, maybe I could muster just a little interest.