My Two-Door Whore or The Golden Bullet

A while ago on ‘The Facebook’ I promised I’d put up a picture of my first car.

That said, I’m keenly concious that as a running blog I am posting less and less about running so I have pondered this for a week or so and have come up with this allegorical tale (below).

The main delay has been rooting out the scanner and the photo album and getting them, the laptop and me all in the same room at the same time.

The following story does not apply to people of the girl persuasion but if you are one of those persons just imagine being the generic protagonist in this story.

Why does it take some people a week to learn to drive and others 20 years?

the answer is that the early adopters have a need, like an itch in need of a good clawing.

Take you’re first job. You need a car to get to work. It’s that or sitting on  public transport with all the mint sucking nuns, school children and civil servants. But you can’t drive.

But having a car is the peer equivalent of smoking Rothmans, drinking pints and saying smell my finger to your friends. You have arrived and are (mainly in your own head) and adult and cool.

So with this need you will learn to drive in about 2 weeks.

If you have a girlfriend you can knock that 2 weeks back to about a week.

The ability to go for ‘spins’ with your girlfriend is the equivalent of making you the Marie Claire Agony Aunt and making your warrior about 2 inches longer at the same time. This is because as you drive aimlessly around the countryside dreaming of engaging in barely legal acts with said girlfriend she is jabbering away about what so and so said to her and what she said back and you’re there all the while saying ‘really?’ and  ‘Yea, you’re dead right’.

So, we’ve established that need can lead to rapid learning – the same as learning how to throw a grenade can be foreshortened by the fear of being killed in war.

The opposite of this is that a lack of need can lead to you dithering away for years and years and never learning how to drive. This means that you’re either gay, a woman or living in some big city where driving isn’t a necessity for appearing grown-up.

From a running perspective I am a gay city dwelling woman.

I have little in the way of need or motivation at the moment.

I have no chance of doing barely legal things to my girlfriend (the running,in case you’re lost).

Although there are signs that I am becoming a vaguely spotty teenager in the last week or two (again, from a running point of view). I have weaned myself off the red wine (not completely, mind you, I could get a banger) and the daily 4 miles that the marcothon instilled in me and am now starting to string together 6, 8, 10 and 12 mile runs.

It has all the signs of turning into something like a training schedule and it could even culminate in the running equivalent of parking in a dark forest car park with the girlfriend (that’s a long race for all of you thinking I was talking about dogging)

There you go, a running blog post that includes learning how to drive, my first car and dogging.

Oh, the first car:

The date is out by 12 months. This is December 1993. That thing hanging from the rear-view mirror is still hanging from my current car.

The ingredients that go into making a Golden Bullet (Or Balle en Or as we say in french) are as follows:

1x 1980 mark 2 Ford Escort 1.1l running on 3 cylinders.

1x tin of gold hammerite

1x tin of red hammerite

1x can of orange spray paint

1 x can of purple metallic spray paint (the dashboard)

1 x man-child desperate to look cool, have gallons of sex, and drive fast. Those were 3 things that this car never brought me – although I was about 15 years ahead of ‘pimp-my-ride’.

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2 responses to “My Two-Door Whore or The Golden Bullet

  1. I don’t know. Xzibit would see Balle en Or as a ‘before’ car for Pimp My Ride.

  2. you forgot – 1 X Herself sitting in the passenger seat!!!!

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