My first car was a red Vauxhall Astra and to me, the bomb. I washed it faithfully every week, checked the oil, made up tapes for long journeys way before CDs or MP3s were around.
Edinburgh was no longer my lot.
It served me well, right up into the part when parked outside a pub (I was nominated driver) someone poked in the rust on the front panel.
There was no choice, it had to go.
What followed was a red Ford Escort, then ultimately a black Jaguar X-Type sports estate, with heated leather seats and a roof rack for skis.
Handy, if I could ski.
But I loved it all the same, remarkable given I’m as far from being a petrol head as you can get.
Cars were never my thing, you see, but it was a great drive.
A couple of years ago, with a heavy heart, I traded the Jag in for a more family friendly Volvo.
In truth, I’ve never liked it.
The Jag oozed class, purred along the motorway, had a fun factor and killer sound system.
The Volvo. Well grey by colour …
Since changing jobs earlier this year, I actually rarely drive at all, preferring to let the train take the strain.
So I’ve been considering my options for the car, what to do.
Which is how I found myself on Saturday afternoon in the Lotus garage in Sighthill Industrial Estate.
They treat you very well, a steady stream of freshly brewed coffee served in fine china Lotus branded cups.
Glossy magazines show off the latest lines while the cars in the showroom gleam under the artificial light.
My birthday is in exactly a fortnight’s time, I’ll be 38.
Which was how I came to the Limited Edition, Apex white Roger Becker Lotus Elise SC complete with leather ProBax seats.
It does 0-60mph in 4.3 seconds. It was a steal at just under £40k, just begging to be bought.
So what else could I do?
I went to the Volvo garage next door and with a huge grin on my face, agreed on a price and walked out the door.
Sadly my budget doesn’t extend to a Lotus. The nearest I’ll get is adopting a Lotus is the yoga position as demonstrated in my picture atop this very blog site.
No I was smiling because after much deliberating I decided that in all probability I can live life without owning a car at all.
It’s National Bike Week – as good an excuse as any to for me to get back in the saddle and cycling again.
And in true Two Fat Laddies style, I couldn’t really convince myself that biking to the shops or work was really enough.
Some may consider it rash.
But selling my motor seemed the right thing to do if only to underline my commitment to what I’m trying to achieve.
And what better time than National Bike Week?
I’ve still got another two stone to lose. If walking and cycling more is what it takes to help shift the remaining poundage, then so be it.
I’ll confess as I trudged through the Edinburgh rain to the nearest bus stop afterwards I did stop and consider the merits of what I’d just done.
Or at least whether I should have mulled over the proposition a bit longer.
And I’ll do so every rain sodden morning, I’m sure.
But the car is gone, the temptation to be lazy removed.
From now on it’ll be either my bike or Shanks Pony that, I hope, will translate into a fitter, better me.
And, with a bit of luck, allow me to lose that last remaining spare tyre for good.