0705032000 Selling the little car.

We have sold the house, now we are selling the cars.

We have a little Hyundai that we have neglected by not having it serviced for over 6 years.
We tend to run our life on a “run until failure” maintenance program.
Everything that has ever happened to that car seems to be caused by us – it has never spontaneously failed due to manufacturing defects.

The timing belt needed to be changed 100,000 kilometres ago.

It burns oil at such a rate that it never needs changing. Last year the engine started to cough and splutter so I changed one of the spark plugs.

I bought some new tyres for it the other day – the mechanic said “you certainly got your moneys worth out of these tyres” he said as he rubbed his hands around the tread that had worn down to the wires.

It has some kind of dent or scratch in every panel.

The radio doesn’t work.

Alex bumped a shopping trolley into the tail lights about 7 years ago.

I bought a new battery for it once.

We ran it out of petrol on a hot summers day and it ruined the fuel pump.

I overfilled the oil and the extra oil leaked out onto a rubber engine mount and after a few months the mount crumbled away – this made the entire engine move around so much that it changed out of fourth gear when we accelerated.

When my dear wife, who is, as a matter of fact and not just my biased personal opinion, a world class teacher, would arrive home - I could hear the ratchet as the handbrake was “applied” even when I was sitting inside the house. After a time the handbrake was pulled out of the floor. I complained to the dealer and they welded it back on for free.

It has served our family well, it has carried us to school and work diligently and tirelessly for years, we have laughed and cried while travelling as we stared out its windows at this great wide brown land while its little motor purred away taking us on our holidays, we filled its little back seat with boxes as we shifted house, it has carried our weekly groceries safely home in its little boot. It waits patiently for me everyday at the train station car park like a little dog with big moist eyes, staring into the distance for a sign that its master will return. The little car has remained loyal to me after my fling with a motorbike - we will sell it as parts to a junk yard because our registration laws will make it uneconomical to maintain.

Farewell little car.