We all had to start with a runner. A cheap car half thrashed by a previous owner and handed to us to finish off and send to car heaven. My brother, I’m proud to say, has finished off two cars thus far and he is only into his second year of driving. I can’t even make that claim. A litter of various parts currently take up all the floor space in our garage from his second car. It was so screwed he had to part it out.
The first car is long forgotten – but there in the background stands a bent bonnet as a testament to his ways, the surface of which feels like sand paper from his attempt at spray painting after his first accident.
A little Civic CXi is his third and best yet. I’m hoping it will last him at least a year. We picked it up only an hour ago. With a stop at a service station for some fuel and air, he was off to enjoy the sensation of owning a new car. An all too infrequent feeling.
The cheap second hand market relies on people like my brother. Not to mention junk yards salivating at their mouth whenever he goes for a drive. He will drive and kill and buy and sell for possibly 10 years before he finds that one car he will want to keep and modify with taste. Until then tow truck drivers will beg to be on his speed dial and insurance companies will bend him over year after year.