Is it true that part of the modern quandary we find ourselves in is inevitably that it goes hand in hand with a whole lot of proverbial baggage? The more I learn with age and grow (sideways at this stage!), the more I realise that we all have quite a collection of issues. Enough so that not only do some need a closet but a whole double garage to store them in.
Some people, when faced with this realisation simply have what is termed a nervous breakdown. Others seek the help of a professional and then some of us, namely me, drive!
Although I have hooked up my iPod to my MG's ancient radio through my itrip (ask child under 18 for translation of the previous sentence) I often forget to turn it on. Meditation sometimes is planned and sometimes it just happens. More often than not an engine roaring to life is my involuntary cue to zone out of the world and just think.
After the hunt for a shop that could do on car spoke wheel balancing ended at the mechanic next to my coffee shop I was satisfied that it was time to really hit the open road, do more than a quick run into Claremont form the city and actually, really drive.
Once the cat fighting ended regarding who was to accompany me in my car and who was to follow in the modern 'emergency' vehicle we hit the highway. 28° Celsius, sun block on and top down, Franschhoek was but a breath of fresh air and a very bad hairstyle away. Once just beyond the slightly annoying 'slow fast lane opponents to happy driving' I hit the overdrive switch and the rest is yet another oh so sweet part of history.
Without breaking the slightest sweat we cruised down the N2, wound over passes and roared into Huguenot heaven. 80 miles an hour all the way, no problem! My discovery on the day in question was not that breakdowns would be frequent and that rattles a nightmare but that my car was in fact built for the open road. I suppose why they called it a tourer!
I find it hard to contain my excitement at this discovery because never have so many trips been planned by so few to so many far off destinations in as many moments of involuntary meditation!
So another chapter into this column I find myself truly surprised. Surprised not only at how hard you actually have to hit a chrome wing nut to remove a punctured tyre but at how effortlessly this gem of a car performs.
Soaking up the sun
It's so interesting to note the temperature gauge as summer approaches reading just that little bit higher in the mornings allowing me to use just that little bit less choke. Things go smoother and the engine wakes up at a much faster rate, as we all do when the weather is fine outside I suppose. Another lesson notched in the belt is to beware of just jumping into the car after a day spent sitting in the sun with the top down, seriously hot hot hot!!!
Christmas in on the way, it's roaring towards us at a rate of knots and that means holiday, oh yeah I'll say it again, holiday. Now no longer depressed that I would have to leave my baby MG in the garage while other cars got to play on their way to their yearly break, I am now committed, more so than to anything else, that this years holiday score will in fact come in the form of a red convertible,
Baggage however will not be an issue, because in my car you have to pack light, due to my tiny boot and a futile search for a chrome luggage rack. A blessing I feel as knowing I have to pack light is subconsciously suggesting to my overactive mind that there will be no space for any of my other mental baggage this season while I bask in the convertible sun.
So if you see a red MG dashing past you while on your drive up the garden route this year be sure to wave and I'll be sure to wave back, after all, the second best part of not having a roof is the high handed wave on the open road...