Little Elf

How is it possible to become emotionally attached to a car? It's only a heap of metal with four lumps of rubber underneath, isn't it? Not this one, evidently, as I got really choked up today when it was driven off to meet its new owner. Yep, sold to the man with the soft spot for vintage motors. Ooh, that distinct smell of old leather seats and petrol, mechanical clunk of a really long gear stick and huge steering wheel with no power for turning on a sixpence. It's provided forty years of love, this little one, and I only enjoyed three of those.

1969 Riley Elf – 'a mini on high heels' as a friend once described it. Off she went today, pottering down the lane into the busy beyond.

You couldn't drive anywhere in this car without people really smiling at you, and it was having the same effect on me inside as I went. Such a joyful object, just the way it looked, never mind how it moved! And that's the point. It brought me an awful lot of joy at a time when I really needed it, and have had an amazing journey since. Don't need the car anymore to tell me things are ok – it's brilliant to get to this stage. Happy, but I'm very sad too.

"Off you go, little one!"




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NB. The photos today are clearly not taken by me! Thanks Jimmy for these, and also Ray Singh who inspired many happy Sunday evenings waxing it up at Carwash Club.


{Today's soundtrack: Wavey Dave's Big Chill remix: rum, glitter fairy and guilty pleasures. Cheers Big D, and thanks for the good times!}