What’s with cars and their ability to make their way into human hearts? I mean, they’re machines, aren’t they? They’re not even humanoid. That said, they do kind of have faces… you know how the headlights and front grill can sort of arrange themselves into something vaguely anthropomorphic? Yes, you do know. Don’t pretend you’re immune to it.
I thought I was immune to it until recently, when I had to take my car for check-up after noticing a weird smell upon braking. Finding a mechanic close to Mornington – that’s Mornington in Tasmania, mind you – who can work on my car is always a challenge, and when it comes to engine stuff, the difficulties seem to get even more pronounced. It’s a somewhat unusual Italian model that was palmed off to me by my Swiss grandfather, so it’s old as well as European, and that never bodes well for quick and easy repairs (not to mention cheap ones).
Anyway, while I was explaining the situation to the mechanic, it occurred to me that the car has a name. It just popped into my head out of the blue that my car is called Donatello. It just fit so perfectly, and once I’d seen it, I couldn’t unsee it. It was then that I realised how deeply saddened I’d be if the car ‘died’ – not just because I’d no longer have a car, which would be inconvenient, but also because I love Donatello. I love my car.
Evidently, I’m one of those people. While there’s not a huge scene of car-lovers here in little old Mornington, Tasmania, car repairs are taken seriously, which leads me to believe that I’m not alone. In fact, it could be quite normal, and just something no one cares to talk about because doing that tends to make you an object of low-level contempt.
How did Donatello go at the mechanics? She got fixed, and within 48 hours to boot! Turns out it was just the spark plug leads, but there’s always the possibility she won’t be so lucky next time.