Bye bye Velma, hello Connie

It has been said that you never forget your first car. Ask anyone and you will get stories about battered old cars that have broken down, been the source of many a teenage adventure, or lost important parts along the way. But no matter how much hassle they are most people remember their old cars with a smile.

I am no different. The only thing that is different for me is that, unlike most people, I have only just lost my first car. Velma, my faithful companion of nine years has finally given up the ghost, and is now resting in the big scrap yard in the sky.

Velma has been with me through thick and thin, from the scary days of A’level exams, when I used to hurtle into the student car park and bump into the same tree almost every day, to the more recent days of the long drives to Bath for work. She has seen so many repairs to her that I joke she is a new car, and is well known to the recovery men, who have been called out to rescue us. She also seems to have a regular spot in our local garage, with the long suffering mechanic never surprised to see me. But despite this my robust little clio carried on, proving to be a very loyal companion. This was until she finally stopped altogether.

On a relatively normal Wednesday afternoon I had just come off the motorway into Clevedon when I slowed down for traffic. At this point all the lights on my dashboard lit up in red....and Velma would not start. Now I do not have a big knowledge of cars or their workings, but even I could tell that this was bad. The car oracle, otherwise known as Dad, was on his way back from work, so rescue duty was down to super mum, and my knight in shining armour Uncle Cliff, who turned up on a motorbike not a horse. After a few hours spent peering under the bonnet trying to explain different parts of my car to me he was none the wiser as to what was wrong, and I was totally confused! So car oracle arrived to tow my broken car home.

After a visit to the garage the next day I was informed that the cambelt had gone, and it would be too expensive to fix. So Velma was retired to the scrap yard in the sky, a sad moment. It honestly felt like I was losing a part of me.

But this sad story has a happy ending, and I am pleased to announce that I have entered the 21st century with a new car. Connie the Corsa stood out to me because of her nice turquoise colour. After being checked out by car oracle and a mechanic (apparently the colour is not a good enough reason to buy a car) she was mine.


I was like a kid in a sweet shop playing with all the modern gadgets like electric windows, power steering, and a working clock, complete with date and temperature!


So while I will never forget Velma (I still have my key) I am excited about the prospect of a new future with my trendy new Corsa Connie.