So in the next panel, Charlie Brown says "Augh!"

Cars. Cars, man. If ever I need a directionless rant, today'll do fine.
So I have my car MoT'd in August, and it's all pretty much fine; they do say a new fuel tank will be needed before long, so I duly get round to that, um, two months later. All fine, if costly.

A week later, I'm driving back home from Blackheath, where I've been down to watch the Breeders (excellent show, by the way - part of the 1980 Forward 4AD birthday shows), and gone 1am, the thing breaks down. Power just dies, I'm stuck in the back of Wood Green on probably the coldest day of the year to date.
RAC man says, something in the fuel filter, unclogs it, tells me to get it to the garage. It ran fine all day Sunday so I figure it's good enough to get me where I'm going Tuesday then I'll drop it in Wednesday.
Inaccurate presumption.
Sat for another hour in Palmers Green, RAC comes again.
Stupid thing makes it to the garage Wednesday morning, where a new filter is fitted (if they'd have charged me, serious umbrage would have been taken), and they're confident it's all fine, everything's coughed up from the fuel tank, through the filter, all fine. They're blaming the Saturday boy for dropping sealant in the new tank, or something.

All good, I think. It gets me home, it gets me around on Friday, it gets me to Tottenham on Saturday because some nice man managed to ram into the back of my parked car during the week and clotheslined the lights. My boy Sodo at the garage tells me yep, probably looking at £300 to refit the light and pull the bumper out of the boot. Sends me to the bodyshop, yep, same deal. Amazingly, the guy who rammed me left a note, turns out he works for a Peugeot garage (I think, I need to check again Monday). Hopefully, this'll work out for the best as they'll probably pay up for new everything. Ainsley at the bodyshop told me he'd do me a whole new body pretty much if they were paying up through insurance, hehe, so I might go with that.

So, I go home with the quote, car breaks down five minutes walk from home. Loooovely.
So, RAC again for the third time in a week, blockage is in the pipes mate, we'll have to arrange a time to tow you down there. Great. Car's out of action, and I really need it tomorrow.
Drives me mad, so it does.

There's a temptation, in a way, to become one of those Daf-from-Shaun-Of-The-Dead types, "I just don't see the point of owning a car in London." Every time I find myself thinking that and mentally shaking my head: I'd never give up my car now, I love it. It's great for shopping, visiting people, all kinds of good stuff. It's good to be able to give people lifts home after a night out.
Ah, I'm getting all nostalgic for it, its only parked down the road.

Get well soon, Passion Wagon Mark II!

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