You would think living in a little village on the road to nowhere in particular that nothing really happened here and I suppose for the most part you’d be right. Yesterday was different and it has left me dreaming of having my own car. Not just any old car though. I want a vintage car. It looked a real hoot as all the drivers in the Flying Scotsman Rally drove through our village at regular intervals over a couple of hours. I guess it helped that it was a beautiful sunny day, but it left me thinking to myself that if Alfie can have his own car, why can’t I have mine? I discussed it with my Mistress and she said she’d do a deal with me. When I have learnt car maintenance so I can look after it on my own then I can have my own vintage car. Now, I don’t think that’s such a bad deal and those of you who know me will realise it isn’t outside the realms of my capabilities. Of course what she didn’t bargain on was that I might choose to practice either on her car or on Alfie’s and that one day she’s going to come home to find it in bits all over the drive with me trying to work out how to put it back together again. I’d want the flying jacket and goggles and a silk scarf to drape over my shoulder and flap behind me as I go at high speed. It must be a soft top and I’d like one with a running board on the side, because they look fun. Anyway, I’m going to save my pocket money and see if that helps. I’d even let our Mistress be my navigator if she wanted to, although she said something about months of Sundays and never, which I didn’t quite catch.
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