My First Breakdown

Didn't take long for it to happen. But then I'm the kinda person who likes to get as many of life's adventures as soon as possible. So when my exhaust was all rattly and my Daddy advised me that I needed a new one but not Just Yet I thought grand so. I'm sure my Drivey Sense will tingle and warn me when I need to get a new one.

Well, something tingled all right the night the car hit off a few speed bumps (there was no speed involved in the contact, but there sure was a whole lot of bump). However, I didn't think my wee car was trying to tell me something with the rumbly rattly noise that it was making.

And seeing to the rumbly rattly noise would've involved a trip to A Garage full of Men and Grease. It's not like I didn't know where to find one...coz every morning on the drive to work I'd pass the exhaust centre in my rumbly rattly car. But y'see I couldn't figure out how to get in at the Men and Grease...so I'd pass it by and park in work, where my car would sit in zen-like silence until I started it up again. Rumble Rattle.

Then last week I had to drive to Tyrone for a wake. So I wait until late, coz I'm still bloody nervous about driving. But I managed to get out of Derry and was nearly in Cloughcor when there was a horrible noise and then a whole lot of horrible noise...a grinding scraping sort of horrible noise that set my Drivey Sense tingling. I knew the exhaust had fallen off, so I did an emergency park (they didn't teach me that in the test but I find I'm sometimes a highly instinctive driver) and I did the only thing a girl can do - I Called Daddy.

Daddy and Brother #1 came and in due course I attended the wake, funeral, a family row and a garage. My car is now working and is an awful lot quieter. Except for a bit of a rattle that's been getting worse. The Drivey Sense is possibly oversensitive at the moment, but I'm not taking any chances, so I've dropped it into the garage. Again.

But driving isn't all breakdowns and garages. I have taken some highs with the lows. I will never forget the elation of overtaking not one, but two tractors (in separate overtaking incidents) on The Mountain Road to Gleneely. I was brilliant. Awed myself by the memory of me for hours afterwards. Fantastic.

Driving. Better than Being Driven.