Which car?


posted by sooyup on ,

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In the past couple of weeks, at Emma’s bidding, I have paid reluctant visits to the optician, the dentist, and the audiologist. Do you think Emma is trying to tell me something? It was while I was sitting in the dentist’s waiting-room on Friday that I mentally filled in one of those pseudo-psychological questionnaires in a women’s magazine. Among other pointless questions, it asked: “If you were a car, what model would you be?” Would it really matter, I wondered. If I were a car, Emma would surely have traded me in long ago for a sportier model - assuming I hadn’t already been written off and sent for scrap. On the other hand, recent visits to the optical, dental and aural engineers would suggest that she is in the process of renovating me like a cherished vintage car, to be polished up and shown off at rallies, or to do the London to Brighton run like dear old Genevieve. One thing is certain. I’m not as low-maintenance as I used to be. What car would Emma be? Something sleek and red, I think.

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