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because the 90's paled in comparison to this...

I saw something astounding on the side of the road the other day, something that stopped me dead in my tracks, and even if just for a second made my mouth drop straight open. Parked at the road’s edge just near work on St James Street, a Silver-Grey 1980′s Ford Granada, which while slightly smaller, bears a striking resemblance to my first car, the great cûn, my canary yellow XF Ford Falcon. Actually, it was more like a mix between an XD and an XE, but close enough to still bring a definite tear to my eye. Few moments have I experienced in the last 6 months or so where I was filled with both laughter, surprise and sadness such as this, and for that this momement will be long remembered.

The Ford Granada, similar looking, but far less manly

Why all the fuss over a Falcon clone, one may ask? It’s a sh&^ty Australian family sedan (saloon for those UKey’d), that like the plethora of other large 1980′s vehicles (such as the Kingswood, Monaro, first Commodore’s, Torana and other period Falcons), is destined to rust bucketry and crushing (if this has not happened already). And its long been known for being a taxi, bus, and caravan for a certain Australian minority. But it was my car, and my first one at that, and it had so much history. After being used in an armed robbery and stolen at least 3 or 4 other times, it was responsible for many a fun evening of laid-back, non jaw-dropping fun and utter destruction (mostly of the car itself). Yes, the cûn was a star and shall go down in history as a legend, at least in my eyes.

The Ford XF Falcon

The cûn and I had an understanding, I could treat her like shit, stretch her to her absolute limits and she would never actually stop running on me, apart from the occasional limp. No, she didn’t break down on me constantly (apart from running out of fuel due to faulty fuel gauge), or blow a head gasket, its features just occasionally stopped working as they should or fall off altogether, like the airconditioner, radio, rearview mirror, wing mirror(s), pedals, windows, doors, backseats and other slightly more valuable organs. And there was always the odometer that stuck at 110191km over 5 years before she was rolled out of the driveway destined for the crushing yard. But it just kept on running, and I appreciate that.I’ve always said (about 5 years ago), that when I’m old and rich, I’ll go back and find the last surviving mint XF and buy it to put next to the Bugatti, and while I adamently believe this will never happen as all will probably have been scrapped its nice to keep living the dream.

Here’s an ode, to my first car
You learned and taught me, like a training bra
For you are and forever will be the wonderous cûn
Even though you could seldom muster a tune

You, me and the H man had some great times
Like limping home all broken diffed after dimes
And yes I know, I treated you like shit
But as most who remember know, you were a smashing hit

P.S: The author reserves the right to hide the original nickname for el cûn-o.

Tags: car, love, Travel

This entry was posted on Friday, December 28th, 2007 at 2:29 am and is filed under Life, Other, Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.