Goodbye England’s Rose.

It appears to be a month of me losing women. Yesterday’s was probably the worst yet. My sweet little 1.25 Ford Fiesta has been put out for pasture. She took the knocks well and saw me across thousands of miles. She will always have a special place in my heart but Pancetta is dead.

About five years ago my brother bought a car. He thought it was really cool. It had blacked out rear windows, a little tea tray of a spoiler, nice rims, a CD player, all the mod cons. To belittle his efforts in being “gangster” I decided to give said car a stupid and slightly effeminate name to bring down his name. This car was Pancetta.
What I hadn’t accounted for was that eventually my brother would sell me the car and it would have to keep the same name and so that sassy little lady came under my charge.
I’ve eaten in her, I’ve slept in her. I’ve picked up friends, I’ve picked up girls, I’ve picked up my dad, when drunk and on his way home. She has certainly served her purpose but now, as President Truman says, “we must cut down on the cost of living”. Having recently bought my first property and with the idea that I just want to stay in and write all the time, and the train line is just a ten minute walk away I’ve decided to scrap Pancetta and see how long I can go without a car. I know there are going to be issues with it in the coming months. I’m not entirely sure how food shopping will go, or how I will take stuff to the tip six miles away but if you can change and I can change then maybe the whole damn world can change. I might get a bike. Good for the environment and I’ll feel like Morrissey.

But for now, I just wanted to wish Pancetta well as she evolves into a Tetris square and is dropped into the hole. I hope your line gets cleared soon sweetheart.