Monday, 9 April 2012
Big Yellow Taxi
We've always grown our own vegetables ever since we moved down here. During the eighties I had a vegetable stall in Shrewsbury market. To make transportation easier, my hubs (impulse) bought me a yellow Ford Transit he saw languishing on someone's forecourt as he was passing. My daughter was in her teens at the time and loved to go to the local youth club and discos in the village hall. My yellow Tranny was the only means of getting from A to B and when I used to drive her to her nights out she'd hide under the dashboard board and bolt like a rabbit once all the others had gone inside.
'Mum, park round the corner, when you come to fetch me.'
Ever increasing petrol prices (what's new) and my sweet one decided to go on an economy purge by turning the fuel pipe thingy down half a notch. Come the day of the market, I thought, 'this van's a bit sluggish?' We'd be on the road by 6.30 am, hardly anything about at that time in the morning so I got there eventually. The homeward journey was something else. The traffic had built up a bit as it started bumping and grinding over the Welsh Bridge. I just about managed to get the thing on the open road.. A lorry was stuck behind me. No matter how far I put my foot down on the accelerator it refused to go any faster than about fifteen miles per hour. And then just as he was about to overtake, it found a new lease of life and shot up to about forty five. This carried on for seventeen miles until I found a lay by. I managed to pull in. As he went by, he leaned over, gave me a slow hand clap and mouthed something. I couldn't quite make out what he was trying to say but I think I got the gist of it.
It didn't look quite as bad as in that picture. That was taken when I unexpectedly met a boy racer around one of the blind corners.
I love my Focus. I chose that car myself.