"I know the wheel fell off, BUT ..."
... I love my car and nothing could change that," a motorist explains as the doctor gets a restraining jacket.
Car love is an important part in a motoring enthusiast's life. Some cars slowly build a nest in your heart only to stay forever. Another is just a holiday romance, or a long lasting relationship. There could be a hot and heated affair ...
Like many emotions it's hard to explain. People experience falling in love differently - the butterflies in your stomach, a constant stupid smile on your face, or always feeling comfortable near your special someone because they make the world less horrible. People feel pain in a different way - an aching heart, or a low but constant pain following them. If it's already hard to define two basic emotions, how can you reduce car love to a simple factor? And yet all car enthusiasts have felt it, and know what it's like.
In the five years I have owned my car "oh look this is my car, it drives nicely" has turned into "one bad word about my car and I'll run you over with it." This is an empty threat, because it would hurt my car, which is unacceptable.
I am not the only one: A friend used to own a small Polo, one time a wheel literally fell off BUT she loves the mite. This went two ways: the mechanic told her that the car should not work any more, and it was only driving for her. Eventually she had to give it away and her heart is still broken.
The Polo who broke JM's heart
But HOW do you explain this slightly ridiculous mix of emotions which makes car love great to someone who could not care less about a car? People would be understanding if you had your first child in the car, or if you made your first child in it. It's not an Aston, so not fascinating, but it's your world. Your heart aches already when you think about selling it.
Maybe if we make people understand.
Of course, I know that my car is kinda slow, and has a faulty engine. But when VW is going to recall it I am going worry for the whole day. Why? Because this pile of faulty engine, and black paint job has carried me from place to place. It has forgiven my mistakes. It has made sure that my shoulder stayed in one piece after a bus decided that the right side of my car looked nice for crashing into. It was a welcoming shelter after I received bad news. Every morning it starts. Every time I explore gravel roads it hops around with joy. Every time I am tried after work it seems to make the journey home almost by itself. In return, I want to make sure that it is leads a good life, drinks the finest petrol, has a comfy place to stay, and something entertaining to look at while parked.
And because I love my car like this I can understand H. Pea. She turned out to be my salvation when she said that what makes cars great, and why we love a silly Beetle convertible with wonky electrics - not mine - is because of the personal connection we form.
Yes, car love is stupid, ridiculous and - most of the time - not logical. But isn't that so with every emotion? And no, even if you try your best to reasonably explain why you want to keep your car instead of selling it people will still think you're insane.
That's okay. While they berate you, you sigh happily, thinking about the good times and tell them you feel sorry for them. After all they have never felt the pure joy of car love.