A storm, and a sad motoring farewell

Just minutes ago, a moth was flapping desperately against my window, soaring up and down against the glass as it tried to dig through to the light bulb in my living room.

Now the moth’s trail is replaced by streaks of rain, and every few minutes I see the lightening dash across the sky like a fiery ribbon. Here comes the thunder. Oh, it’s getting closer. I feel a chill. These summer storms - I cannot remember storms like this in Edinburgh since I’ve been here. It is because this season has been consistently warm and muggy. Something has to give.

I wonder how close it will get. I am tempted to light the candles, but I will hold off. Lighting them in the autumn, when I first notice the true shift into the Dark time, has become a ritual for me. However, looking outside into the gloom, it feels just about dark enough.

Today is also the day we say goodbye to Christine. Christine was a good car. She took us to Blackpool and twice to Stratford, as well as all over Scotland, to the very top of the mainland. She has seen us safely through countless adventures, while Chuck the wheezing rubber chicken rode shotgun in the glove compartment. Three times we have sat in her in the rain, eating fish suppers. We even slept in her while a gale roared outside and carried away the tent that we had earlier abandoned. Yes, Christine was a good car.

Somehow, Christine got wind that JP was going to retire her. On his way to Edinburgh yesterday, she showed her owner just what she thought of being sent to the scrap heap in the sky. With an almighty clunk, the exhaust fell and dangled by a metallic sinew. I imagine it was like a terrible Dr. Who moment, as a hail of sparks began to fly from the back of the car and the drooping exhaust flung between the two back tires, causing the whole car to wobble.
Because he is lucky, my beloved escaped unscathed and even made it home in the car, with the exhaust pinned back up as a temporary measure. Now there is a new car to see us on new adventures. One with fewer miles on the pedometer and a bit more shine to it. I am told the car’s name is Roger. I myself will pronounce it as it is said in Life of Brian. As in “Wewease Woger.”

But still. Let’s raise our glasses and remember Christine. She was a good car, and we’ll miss her. Give us a wave, old girl.