“Being sensible is stupid”

Have you ever been in a bar when you see a woman so beguiling that you can’t take your eyes of her. Your heart beats faster, butterflies flutter around your stomach as you desperately want to walk up to her but you never do. You’re too nervous. What if it all goes wrong and you’re left looking like an idiot? You just sit their drinking wondering what if, watching as another man walks up to her and sweeps her of her feet.

It was mid-May, spring had sprung and summer was on the way when I first laid eyes on her. So beautiful. My mind couldn’t rest as thoughts of her orbited round my brain in cosmic majesty. Excitement overwhelmed at the idea of approaching her. Oh how I wanted to get inside her. Grab her with both hands and drive it home hard and fast.

I am of cause talking about a car. Not even a particularly outstanding car. A 1990’s mx5 NA. Sure there are better cars out there like there are better women. The MX5 is definitely the girl next door rather than a sexy Hollywood actress, but I will never be able to obtain Jennifer Aniston just like I will never be able to obtain an E type. But the girl next door, the Mazda, is a possibility. That’s why I’m so upset I let her slip through my fingers.

She stood on the side of the road, just waiting for me to buy her, but I just drove on by. I could have afforded her, I could have looked after her, but no. I let someone else swoop in and buy her. Why? I’ll tell you why. Because I’m too bloody sensible. The MX5 would have been costly to maintain, expensive on fuel and a fortune to tax. Who cares! Sure, my Astra is economic, cheap and is more likely not to break down but it’s bloody dull, boring and looks like crap. I swear the designer took inspiration from his morning constitution when styling it. The Mazda has a massive reputation for thrilling the driver and plastering a massive smile on your face. The Astra has a reputation for… being exotic? No. Being fun? No. Oh that’s right, for being monumentally Dull!

Let this be a lesson to whoever gives a damn. Don’t listen to that stupid, sensible, boring voice in your head that worries about mpg, warranty, and reliability. Listen to that inner 12-year-old that wants speed, fun, excitement and headlights that pop out from the bonnet. Sensibility in buying cars is, in itself, stupid. No one really knows what a second-hand car is going to be like until they own it and sell it (or scrap it). To prove my point, my Astra, (brought with a sensible head, scrutinizing the service history, inspecting the body work meticulously and checking the engine over within an inch of its life) broke down and left me for that scrap heap in the sky. The man who brought the MX5 drove past me the other day, while I was waiting at a rainy bus stop. His smile stretched from ear to ear. It was like watching that woman at the bar walking out with that man’s arm around her. Bastard!