My car has now gone, so "Mags" the car is away, it was taken away by someone paying cash last night. I seemed to form an emotional attachment to her after so many years (5) and so many miles, 108,000, guess some photos might be the order of the day:
Stories I could tell about her are many fold, I had a bump with her coming back from my brothers a few years ago, leaving a big dent in the alloy wheel and changing it in the middle of nowhere (2002), this was a bit of a precarious one as I was in the middle of nowhere:
And I also spun her off the road at Ardlui coming back from a hillwalk with my brother, it was my own fault and was plain silly. I very nearly became a victim of the 17-25 statistical blip in mortality rates. Thankfully the crash barriers did their job or I would have come a cropper in Loch Lomond.
My emotional attachment to my car I think is a bit of a metaphor for an emotional attachment to most things here and I'm cacking myself right now about going away. My mother is sort of wondering why I'm not excited, I'll tell you why as I'm giving up a job, a car, a relationship just to go and see if the grass is greener, what if it isn't? I'm so scared at the moment.
Yes, my life needed to move on, no, I couldn't have worked at the Prudential any longer, it's already been 2 years too many, but I'm sure there are better ways of going about things.
So, I'm nervous, apprehensive and while things are coming together, I ask myself if this is what I really want... only one way to find out, embrace it with both hands and take a big deep breath of life.
