OK We definitely should have got a bigger car. The boot is packed solid. The tent is on the back shelf.
We do not have coats. We have no tools. I’ve taken out the spare wheel because I’ve needed to bring my shoes.
We will rely on the kindness of strangers, and American Express. I’m ignoring how much oil the car is using.
Prologue
<RING RING>[1]
“Alright mate, it’s Pete.” I say.
“Yeah I know, your name and a small picture of you comes up on the screen of my phone when you call. We’ve talked about this.” says Carl.
“I’m scene setting, Carl, I think you know that.” I reply.
“Alright Charlie Kaufman, what can I do for you?”
“Well you know we’ve talked about doing a banger rally.” I ask.
“Oh yeah! Do you think we’ll manage it this year?”
“Errm no, I’m going to do one with Millie instead.”
“Oh.” He says, sounding slightly disappointed. “Fine.”
“So I’m looking for some car advice, again” (Carl is my pre-eminent car advisor, and the proprietor of Morris Manta Garage Services[2]).
“It needs to be either 20 years old or less than one thousand pounds. What do you think about a 2003 S-Type Jaguar? A/C, massive boot, 400bhp, Millie and I would look like Withnail and I!”
“Well off the top of my head two things spring to mind,” he replies,
Chapter 1
First Encounters
We’d had Lotus’ for years but, back in 2010, one of them had done that thing that they do and blown a head gasket. This time, rather than being at the mercy of their long suffering dealer network and their inconsistent selection of occasionally shabby courtesy cars, I decided to buy a banger from Autotrader, with a loose plan to sell it once the Elise was fixed.
It was quite fun, flicking through the adverts, trying to find something we actually wanted to drive until finally I happened on a Mk 1 (aka NA) MX-5. Quite low miles but a torn roof and, well, the middle of a British winter is not the best time to sell a two seater with only a battered tarpaulin keeping it dry. So the car was purchased for the princely sum of £1000 and we drove down from Glasgow to Wythenshawe on the outskirts of Manchester to pick it up.
Carl and I met a few decades earlier at a party and have been friends ever since – as he lives just north of Manchester with his partner, Kathy, we stopped in for tea on the way home.
“Oh” he says, walking round the new purchase whilst sucking in through his teeth in the way of all second hand car dealers (they can’t help themselves)[3], “Kathy’s always wanted one of these, how much did you pay for it?”
“£1500,” I say, quick as a flash,
“OK.” He says, “I’ll take it off you when you’re done with it. And fixed that roof. And it’ll need new tyres. And a service and an MOT.”
“Alright!” I say pleased with my splendid haggling skills which will see me only about £750 out of pocket.
We ran the car until the summer, at the time Millie was only 6 and she loved that car. Loved getting all bundled up for the school run with the roof down, and there’s always something nice about a car with so much sheer character but that you don’t really care about. When the Elise was finally fixed we nearly kept the MX-5, but didn’t have room for it and now that summer had arrived Kathy was all excited about getting it.
Kathy loved the car EVEN MORE than our 6 year old daughter but sadly, 2 years later, and just 3 months after her and Carl were married, Kathy lost her fight with cancer.
Chapter 2
Resurrection Tale
For the last fifteen years that MX5 has sat, loved but unused because, it turns out, even car dealers get attached to cars. But Carl’s a Manta guy and doesn’t drive it, it just gets moved from the dusty corner of one workshop to the dusty corner of another.
“But you’ve kept it inside yeah?” I ask.
“Oh Yeah., Inside. Definitely isn’t all rusty and in need of a new hood. But it could with a few bits and pieces. Brakes, tyres, a new hood, bit of welding, some paint, a head gasket. Other than that it’s as good as when you sold it me.” he tells me.
“Wouldn’t we be better in a Jag, With A/C and a massive boot?” I ask.
“What did Millie say when you mentioned the Jag?” coimes the reply.
“Umm she looked sad. And made a sign with her hands which I think was supposed to signify the raising up of pop-up headlights.”
“There you go then. Look anything you get at this price point will need a few bits, and you know the history of this car.” Lancashire’s top Opel Manta expert continues.
“I know it hasn’t moved for a decade, and before that I drove it for six months. And I’m an idiot.” I reply whilst my head is full of images of twenty pound notes flowing out my account.
“Yeah see, provenance. Look joking apart, Kathy genuinely loved the car and we’d have loved to have taken it to Europe but we never got the chance. You know I couldn’t bring myself to sell it, but giving it to Millie – that feels right. Like it’s going home.”
“GIVING it to Millie!” [4] I exclaim.
“Selling it to Millie. Or to you. For the avoidance of doubt there will be money changing hands. From you to me.”
So we are going to try and drive this thing to Rome, for 2 weeks camping with my now adult daughter. And I’ll try and write about it to encourage folk to give some cash to Pendleside Hospice, who looked after Kathy at the end, you can here. But don’t feel obliged, we are driving there anyway and writing this entirely for our own entertainment.
[1] I’d like you to imagine Carl’s phone makes the same noise as Jim Rockford’s in the eponymous TV series.
[2]For all your Opel Manta needs. Use code MX52ROME* for 10% off at checkout.
*Carl writes – I do not recognise this code. I do not offer discounts. But find me on social media if you want to chat about Mantas.
[3] Who also features in the prologue! Although can you ever actually be friends* with a car dealer? Acquaintance perhaps? Because if everything for sale then everyone’s a customer.
*Carl writes – What! I’ve known you for nearly FORTY YEARS! You were best man at my wedding!!!
[4] Carl visibly twitched* when I said this, a spasm that engulfed his whole body.
*Carl adds – I accept that even reading this back I did suffer a minor stroke.
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