So, the car’s pretty much a rolling deathtrap. For a while now it’s done a little thing where it’ll click and then cut out when you either apply the brake or go round a corner. If you take it a garage or ask an AA man to come and have a look at it they’ll find nothing wrong. Nothing. Not a damn thing. It’s one of those intermittent faults that could happen days or even years apart. But it’s a fault and it’s definitely there.
A quick google of “Peugeot cutting out” will yield a gazillion results, all bearing an uncanny resemblance to our story. The car is fine, then it clicks, lights up an engine warning light and gives up. It’s even been the source of a Watchdog investigation. Anne Robinson and her fierce-faced friends have looked into it and Peugeot are well aware of the problem. So aware, in fact, that were you to take a car to them to be checked out they’ll lift extortionate amounts of money from your pocket for the pleasure, the untold pleasure, of you letting them have the car in the first place. They’ll download new engine management software which you’ll have to pay for. They’ll run copious diagnostics and replace bits and bobs that you’ll have to pay for. And then, at the end of it all, they’ll turn around and say “Yeah, it’s an intermittent fault and for that reason we can’t really say if we’ve fixed it or not.”
It’s a frustrating situation to be in.
On the one hand, we could look at getting the car fixed. You know, Carole’s had it a while and she loves that car. That much is evident from how upset she’s getting at the fact that she’s lost all faith in it. She can’t trust the car like she used to. Hell, she’s even stopped calling him Pedro as much as she used to in a desperate effort to distance herself from his four-wheeled death ride. We’ve had a look at Pedro’s worth on various car websites. He’s not worth that much. He’s got a ding on his arse – a couple now, in fact – and is probably worth slightly more for the fact that there’s a few loose coppers and some car parking money in the central console.
On the other hand, we could look at getting a new car. Or a new old car. A car that is, at least, new to us. And while that’s all well and good there are a few issues. While deciding on a car and a method of paying for it are quite important things, especially with all the job shenanigans that I, and potentially Carole, will be going through in the next few months, they’re not the main issue here. A lot of our new car woes boil down to the feral children and their fricking football. Is it worth spending however much money on a new car only for it to be covered in football marks within minutes of parking it outside the house? We seem to have graduated to the “boot it up into the air really high and see where it lands” school of football now. Sadly it never lands on and of them, preferring to bounce around the street instead. Added to that, we’ve learnt that the children have a hard time controlling the ball anyway as, just this very weekend, the wind grabbed the ball from them and fired it directly at our front door.
When I was a child I often wished that I could have witnessed a form of freak weather phenomena like that. A rogue gust of wind with the strength to pick up a heavy football and throw it, full pelt, into a door. An experience like that would never have left me. I’d have talked it about it at school for days. I would have instantly wanted a job in meteorology in the hopes of seeing it again.
I suppose, in hindsight, the little bugger could have just been lying through his teeth.
It’s hard to know when you’re faced with a child who is many, many times smaller than the thick coat he is playing out in.