23.1.26 - 29 - Da Baby

The view from the top - my annual view of Scrabo Tower during the MOT - usually through driving rain and bitter cold...

Well, yesterday, for the MOT, the car passed. I was SOOOOOO happy.

It was lashing down and I had to dig everything out of the boot and put it into the trolley I had in the boot. Before that the usual washing of the car before the MOT. I thought it was going to fail on account of the passengers window not working, but it was not an essential. After that, all I needed was a wing and a prayer. And it passed. Another year. The car lives to be on the road another year. My 2011 S40 Volvo. 

That makes it 15 years old. How many adventures we have had. My little car and I. Driving to England and then driving to all over Ireland. I think I'll celebrate with a little road trip down the Peninsula. 

I have always said that I would never be without a car. Just like I didn't care about biodiversity and roaches and mosquitoes can go such a fat one.

It is SUCH a relief. Such a massive relief. And since I have started warming up the car engine before starting to drive, it has made such a difference to the car. All the operating systems are working - well... touch wood and all that.

Pa bought us that car for my 40th birthday. We got it in April 2011. I had just turned 40. It was £14,000 back in the day. 

It feels that after a year of crazy... thank the fuck. 

My dearest darling car.

The thing is I don't know if it would still be here if Peter was also driving it. In total contrast, he has been through at least 3 cars since we split up. He is, in fact, getting a new car as we speak. Peter is a terrible driver. He always forgets what gear he is on and he doesn't really register the equipment in the car. For instance, he can keep the wipers on long after they are needed. He has put petrol into the car and then told me that the car was spoilt. I said, what's wrong with it? And he said, when you drive it, you'll see. I started driving it and the car would jerk in a crazy fashion. I was like WTF. This was fine this morning, like WFT? Then it hit me, he has put the wrong fuel into the engine. I drove to the nearest garage. Thankfully Peter always fills a miniscule amount. You cannot imagine how delighted I am that he is no longer scrounging off my life - in fact it used to be so bad I would say to him, we are taking alternative weeks to do diesel and food shops. Anyway, I filled the tank completely and the car was fine. It wasn't ruined. I was delighted. Yay, not an expensive solve. I got home later that night and told him, hey you know the car - it had been filled with petrol, instead of diesel. That's why it was acting up. And instead of saying, Oh My God, like a normal human being. I'm so sorry I must have completely forgotten about it! Thank god it was such an easy fix, so good you had figured it out, he just looked at me like I was a total idiot and said nothing. I looked back at him and - there are moments that stay with you forever. That was one of them. I remember saying to myself, oh so you are total wank stain that cannot acknowledge that you made a mistake, that I had figured it out and finally, that it was such an easy fix. What a dick. It was one of those moments I thought, you have revealed EVERYTHING there is to know about you in this one interaction.  

Not long after that I said that he needed to get his own car. He was furious. He raged that we were now a two car household and it was environmentally unfriendly, even though it had been me that was utterly compromised by his monopolising the car.

In retrospect, it was not about being a two-car household and any hypocritical environmental concerns. Instead, it was about me having independence. I can see that now. Peter had brought me all the way from Singapore because I would be completely dependent on him. Why he didn't pick a less feminist person I will never know.

It is a mistake he has rectified since. 

Anyway, that's that. 

There are so many car stories around his control I could tell. Perhaps I will save it for a memoir. Never cross a writer. If they are not in a good mood, you will be ended. As Musk discovered with Joyce Carol Oates.

It is all there, somewhere. All the rants and ravings - all in my journals.

We keep EVERYTHING. Only because writing is the way we process anything and if you are part of the need for us to process... well... this blog, how many times did I begin a post, to have written out the best part of my anger and then erased it. I should have kept a secret blog. Well, I did. It's called my diary.

I should get to class. Today we aren't doing much. Finishing up Zarathustra, cleaning up. I am going to show them how to clean up. Doing a bit of maths. 

Doing soft craft.

Tidying up.

It is nearly the end of January. Hard to believe. 

I'm so happy. So happy to be free. So happy to be done. So so happy. It's over... everything is good. Tasting sweet sweet victory....