I guess I should start by explaining, if you know me, you’ll know exactly what I’m on about when I start talking about Ron, but I can gaurentee that someone will think it’s my boyfriend. Well, Ron is my car!! And I’m telling you now, we’ve definitely had many ups and downs together.
I love my car… I Promise.
Some things in this post may seem like I’m moaning, but recently, I’ve learnt to not take my car for granted and I’ve realised how much I truly do love my car, especially considering I’ve been having to get the bus to and from uni four days a week (if you do know me, you’ll know the reason I hate busses so much, but that’s a whole other story).
So yeah, I have a love hate relationship with my car, and by that, I mean I love him but he certainly doesn’t love me!! Maybe it’s because I’m certainly no Louis Hamilton… but I’m an OKAY driver 😬
At this point, I’d just like to say how lucky I am to have a car, but not just that, I’m also incredibly lucky to have a dad who knows everything there is to know about cars and fixes any problem I have with Ron (which seems to be more and more each week). My Dad is amazing, and always seems to be very understanding each time I’ve needed a new tire (or sometimes a whole new wheel, but more on that later). So for that, I’d just like to thank him for everything he does for me, if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t even have Ron, let alone have managed to make him survive these last two and a half years. Hes a Legend my Dad!!!!!
The Good Times
- Although it is an 06 plate, my Dad bought the car, and then bought a new engine with only 8000 miles, so it runs like a gem!!
- It’s a Citroen C1, which looks so tiny, but thankfully has 4 doors and is surprisingly roomy in the back, which often shocks people. I also never have to get out to let someone in the back out, although people usually stand there waiting for me to pull my chair forward, you just wouldn’t expect it to have back doors too.
- Against all of the odds, he managed to get me to and from Essex (from Manchester) in one piece, (maybe not him, but we will come to that). Nobody was expecting him to make it, but I knew he would.
- I’ve had many fun little road trips with friends in that car, and majority of them have been smooth sailing.
Now onto a slightly longer section….. (although I guess we can say some of it is my fault).
The Bad Times
- I’ve broken down a total of four times;<<
t; One time my battery died outside of a take away, for literally no reason what so ever. My boyfriends dad had to come and jump start it for me (meanwhile, my curry was getting cold).<<
t; My battery died again a couple of weeks ago. This time, my friend and I tried to bump start it, my dad had shown me how too in the past but I completely forgot in the moment, so it was just me, sat with the car in second gear, and my friend pushing me down the road (epic fail as you can imagine). Eventually my dad came to jump start it. I now have my own set of jump leads in the car for when it inevitably happens again!! This time was on the way to Nando's… maybe Ron just decides to let the battery die when I'm hungry!<<
t; The third time was on the way back from the Clothes Show in Birmingham. I ran out of fuel on the motorway (oops) at about half 3, we didn't end up getting back to Preston until half 7. It's safe to say we were absolutely knackered. When the guy from the RAC came, he put in some fuel, only to find that the battery had died (AGAIN!!!!!) and no, it wasn't because I'd left the lights on or had the radio on etc, the battery in the car is just so small that it just loves to die all of the bloody time.<<
t; Last but most definitely not the least, this was the first time I broke down but I thought I'd save the best till last.<<
out a month after I moved to Preston for uni, still within 6 months of me passing my test, I offered a guy from work a lift home at about half 11. Bear in mind that my flat was a 10 minute drive from work, I should probably have thought about that myself.<<
e more thing to know, before I even went to work, my petrol light was on, but got paid that night. I would have had enough to get me there and back easily.<<
ropped him off at the hospital, which he said was close to his house, then he said< strong>“Come out of here, turn left, and just keep going straight, you’ll go past a park on one side and a petrol station on the other, and then you’ll get to the Wickes near your flat”< /em>So that’s exactly what I did. After about half an hour I was starting to get a little concerned, he said it would only take me 10 minutes. So I check the satnav on my phone and it was just a straight line, so I left it and just carried on. About about 10 minutes later, I saw a sign saying “Lancaster university, 2 miles”. That’s when I realised I’d been driving in the complete opposite direction to my flat for a good 40 minutes. I put on the satnav and it tells me to get on the motorway and to take the exit in 20 MILES!!!!!!!!<<
's safe to say I wasn't happy! I just about made it to my exit, stopped at the roundabout, as I went to go, Ron had other ideas. I managed to pull into a little lay by with absolutely no idea where I was. By this point it was 12:30 am and I was crying, so obviously the only logical idea was to ring my dad (who obviously panicked as I woke him up crying saying “I’m sorry he asked for a lift home” I can only begin to imagine what was going through his mind). Once I managed to explain to him, he went online and worked out where I was by what I could see (I told you, he’s an incredibly clever man my Dad!!) and he told me to ring the RAC. Now it turns out, I wasn’t just in a lay by, I was in some storage place for police cars and vans. Next minute, two police cars pull in with their lights on, they had seen me pulling up on the camera’s and thought I was vandalizing the vehicles. Once they saw it was just me sat there crying, the driver told the other car to leave, took me to the petrol station and filled my car, then gave me a police escort back to my flat.<<
ot back and remembered I'd bought a load of discounted meat in work (I was a poor student, it was the best idea) but the police man had used the plastic bag when sorting out my car. My flatmate (bless him) had waited up for me to walk me back up to the flat at half 1 in the morning.<<
finitely an eventful night.<<
u'd think I'd have learnt my lesson but I still got on the motorway in Birmingham without fuel… oopsies.
- My tires have met many curbs. I think since I’ve had the car its half 6 new tyres and one new wheel. That was because I skidded, bounced up a curb and landed on a grass verge with a big whole in my wheel. My dad was on holiday at the time but I had been working in the office at his work. I went back to work and called my dad, explained to him what happened, he rang his friend (who’s a lot like an uncle to me) and asked him to have a look. They both agreed that it probably wasn’t too safe for me to drive but my dad was home the next day, and my spare tyre was in a worse condition, so my only option was to carry on using it.
- Another time (completely my fault), I went to pick my friend up from uni for the Christmas Holidays in Liverpool. I’d used my Granddad’s Sat Nav, he lived next door to me so it was easy enough to just press the home button, rather than typing in my address. What I didn’t realise was that my Granddad had the ‘home’ button set to a house we stayed at in Anglesey one time on holiday….<<
nsidering Wales is the opposite direction to home, it was safe to say we took a little bit of a detour. To be honest, you'd have thought I would have realised when all of the road signs were in Welsh, but as Momma P says, I'm a little drectionally challenged, so I didn't think anything of it until I saw a big sign saying “Welcome To Wales”.< /em>A 40 minute journey ended up taking a good two hours.
- Last but not least, last weekend on my drive to Essex, my exhaust LITERALLY FELL OFF on the M11. I pulled over to the hard shoulder and a very lovely man and his wife pulled over to help me. But he just cut the remaining bit off and said it would be okay till I got home. Little did he know, I was a good 200 miles away from home. So for the entire drive back I was getting incredibly funny looks as my little C1 sounded like an army tank. Thankfully, my amazing daddy has fixed it now, £65 later.
I just really don’t have much luck when it comes to driving and I’m probably a little bit of a risk, but my car is doing so well, and will most likely continue to for years to come! I do think it’s time to move on soon though. Hopefully, when I do, someone else could take on Ron as their first car and make just as many memories as I have. For now, I’ll continue to make many, many more.
I hope you enjoyed my terrible stories showcasing just how blonde I can be.<<
at's your blondest moment when it comes to cars? Let me know in the comments.
Bye for now