"Had nothing left in the tank ..."
"He always went that extra mile ..."
And she was right - even if that extra mile was sometimes on the back of a tow truck.
I inherited Larry the Laser from my grandparents back in the '90s when he was sparkling and shiny and almost brand new. Throughout the end of uni and my first years of working, he was ever-reliable, a trusted member of the Wellington-Lower Hutt carpool gang.
During my overseas years he had a quiet life parked up at Dad's, then three years ago we were reunited.
Like all relationships we've had our ups and downs. Like the time he broke down in Mokau. As I sat on the side of the road waiting for AA to appear, I got a phone call about a job interview I'd had the week before. "How are you?"
"Not great, car's just broken down in the middle of nowhere."
"Oh right, well, ah, really sorry, some more bad news I'm afraid, you didn't get the job".
I almost felt worse for her than she did for me.
Another time was down the road from there in the Awakino Gorge. To his credit Larry crawled as far as the local pub. Unfortunately the pub was closed and there was no cellphone coverage. Cue a three-hour wait for an AA man before we rolled into New Plymouth on the back of a tow truck (AA membership = a godsend with an old car).
Needless to say last time I had to drive that way to New Plymouth I rented a car. (With just a twinge of guilt as I drove away from Larry in the driveway.)
I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one to develop a soft spot for a car, or some other non-human object. I know of plenty of people whose cars have names - both men and women.
I know Larry is just a car, made of metal and glass and engine (cover your ears Lazza!), but as humans we sometimes get sentimental over "things".
For some its jewellery, a favourite armchair, a motorbike, a house. For me it's Larry.
Perhaps it's because he's been around for such a huge chunk of my life. Camping trips to the Far North, road trips to weddings all over the country, numerous trips to see family. He's lurking in the background at all of them.
Larry is still soldiering on, and while I am officially "looking for a new car", I suspect I will drive him till he gives up completely.
A friend joked the other day I'll end up with his rusting, rotting Laser skeleton on my front lawn, bringing down the street's value.
I should probably warn the neighbours.
