I tried to capture the sadness in a photo but I couldn’t.
The puddle helps a bit – the rain being a pretty obvious metaphor for tears – but it isn’t quite representative of my mood, which is more of a world-weary sadness than outright distress. No actual tears were shed. It’s just a car.
But a car that is now, to put it succinctly, mashed.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
OK. Start from the start. It was a Sunday like any other until there was a bang. We looked outside to see two lads in hoodies legging it from an abandoned car. We looked at our car. Our car was not healthy. Our car was dead, Another victim in the war against drugs.
I have never really taken a side in the war against drugs. I’m against it, broadly, I think. I’m big on tolerance and help and creating economic and social models where people don’t hurt each other or themselves, but I’m aware that is quite a wishy-washy take, and one that is short of specific solutions to specific problems. I’d have to do a bit of research before I could offer you what you might call a policy. I do feel, quite strongly, that rich people shoving stuff up their noses at the weekend is an untapped tax revenue with quite a bit of potential but, again, it’s not a thought with the level of detail that you could knock into a white paper or anything like that. If I had to sum up my thoughts on illegal drugs they would be, ‘It’s complicated, and I’m not an expert’. In a nutshell, I have never taken a strong stand on the international drug trade.
But the international drugs trade took a strong stand on my Renault Clio, and that stand was that they would quite like to drive a stolen SUV into the back of it.
Our car was fifteen years old and still passing it’s MOT every year. There was a scare a in 2019 when a seatbelt looked like it might be defective but it turned out just to be a really big biscuit crumb stuck in the mechanism. A quick blast with the hoover and it was as good as new. I loved that little car and would, if it was economically and environmentally appropriate, give it the full viking funeral it deserved. It was a trouper. It was taken from us far too soon. Rust in peace little buddy.