*Dull Explosion*Mal: What was that?
Wash: Did you see that?
Mal: Was that the primary buffer panel?
Wash: It did seem to resemble...
Mal: Did the primary buffer panel just fall off my Gorramn ship for no apparent reason?
Script of Serenity, by Josh Whedon
Twenty five miles an hour on Livingstone Avenue and there was a crunch, followed by the 'ding' of metal bouncing down the asphalt.
It wasn't a primary buffer panel - but it did appear that a relatively significant piece of my Lincoln Town Car had decided to divorce itself from rest of the vehicle.
Now this didn't unduly worry me. American cars have a large amount of redundant bits attached to their undercarriage which drop off (or stay on) depending on the weather. But it did remind me of Mal's speech at the end of the movie Serenity. His words of advice to wayward River reminded me of my philosophy towards my slightly-less-than-reliable automobiles:
You can learn all the math in the 'verse... But you take a boat in the air that you don't love... She'll shake you off just as sure as the turn of the worlds.
Love keeps her in the air when she ought to fall down... Tells you she's hurting before she keels. Makes her a home.
Now I do not claim this to be a WISE philosophy behind ownership of classic automobiles. But a deep sense of affection is definitely an advantage when owning a vehicle which occasionally costs more and runs less than anticipated.
For all her many failings (there was that week when she returned an appalling 11.8 mpg) my shiny red Lincoln manages to turn heads and spark conversations that a more sensible Honda or Toyota could never do.
And I've learnt that the more you love your inconvenient, but magnificent automobile - the more other people seem too, as well.
Which is handy, since remarkably, the more loved she is, the better she runs. The more reliably she starts. And for some unknown reason, the less petrol she drinks. Right now, we're hitting a down-right puritanical 16.9 mpg.
That must be a lot of love at work.
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