Monday, May 12, 2008

Our old cars...

Something on the television made me think of the old cars that me and my husband have owned.

When I first met him he had a Reliant Robin, for those unfamiliar with them it is a little three wheeler car that I seriously doubt they make any more. The picture is of one in very much better condition than ours was, and ours was a van so no back windows. Their main popularity lay in the fact that you only needed a bike licence to drive one.

We used to transport a large gang about in the back. When they were all drunk at the end of the night we would all pile in and set off on the road home. There was a handy hole in the floor of the van that allowed for some air circulation and the evacuation of occasional fluids by the passengers. (yuck!!!!!)

I remember one night we were on the way home packed to the ceiling with large hairy bikers who had had a few bevies...and then a few more. The night was cold and icy, the crowd in the back was rowdy, and we came down a steep hill with little in the way of brakes.

At the bottom there was a sharp bend that we just made, ooh , woops, we didn't. We skiddded across the road on the roof onto a pub car park, in which a crowd soon gathered. ( Making various helpful drunken late night comments.) My husband wriggled out the car ( for those that don't know him he is very large, and was wrapped in large army great coat, making him even larger)...a feat that brought on oohs and ahhs from the crowd. I imagine he took bow.

Making his way to the back of the van he undid the bungee rope that kept the back door shut and shouted that he needed a hand. Four large hairy people emerged from the back, also wrapped in army great coats, and stood observing the problem. The sight of all those people emerging from the tiny van brought on more oohs from the crowd. Little did they know there were still more inside.

By this time the girlfriend (me) in the front seat was getting quite cross, as I was strapped upside down in the passenger seat AND I had lost my cigarette. I could hear another girlfriend complaining the chippy would be shut if they didn't hurry up.

Hoy! I shouted...get a move on. My husband came to the side of the van and aided by his attractive assistants turned the poor little car back onto its wheels, everyone got back into the van, to cheers from the crowd, (who by now had ordered pizzas and sat down for a show), and off we went to the chippy.

My oldest boy now wants to know why I ring him every thirty minutes if he goes out with his mates in their car.

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