Fox and Polo travelled in convoy on the road
to Mullingar. Anzo was ahead in Fox; she flashed her hazard lights as she turned
into the Applegreen garage, I drove in behind her. It didn’t take a genius to
work out what she wanted. I rolled down my window,
'I
need a coffee fix,' she gasped.
'Say no more Drama Queen' I giggled.
With two coffees
to go we continued our journey. We drove into a large industrial estate. A sign
directed us to a big grey warehouse. We parked-up.
Anzo was glued
to her iPhone as usual; she jumped when a man in blue overalls tapped on her
window.
'You're next
love,' he said.
Flustered, she leapt out of her car; laptop,
iPhone, cup of coffee flying everywhere. She patted Fox on the bonnet as she
passed.
'You’ll
be fine bud; I’ll be waiting for you.'
She gestured for
me to go with her. We entered through a luminous green door, into a sterile
room with white walls and metal seats.
Anzo skulked to
the counter. The clock opposite her struck 9am.
'Sorry
I’m late, I thought my appointment was 9.10, not 8.10,' she said apologetically.
'It's alright love;
can I have your driving licence please?' The man said with a cheeky smile.
Anzo's good
looks and charm got her out of many a bind.
She
emptied the contents of her bag; loose change, pens, elastic bands spilled out;
no sign of her licence.
'I’ll have to check my car, I’ll be
back in a minute, sorry.'
Five minutes
later she strolled in, licence in hand. I shook my head,
'What am I going
to do with you, you’re a nightmare,' I laughed.
She
handed over her licence. The man looked at her with amusement.
'Go easy on Fox,
she’s been through the mill,' she said.
'Don’t
worry love, we’ve seen worse,' he joked.
A
keen social media guru, Anzo took a photo of her little Fox on the forecourt, she
posted,
'Say
a prayer for my beep, beep.'
'Mam,
Fox is remarkably clean and shiny.' Its nice elegant body gleamed,
'No thanks to
you,' I murmured under my breath.
In the small
hours of the night before, she bribed her nephew to clean Fox. He disposed of
the endless empty coffee cups, chocolate wrappers, pistachio nutshells and
small change before polishing Fox up for her big day.
I observed Anzo
with pleasure as she paced up and down. She was wearing gold flip-flops, revealing
her flaming orange toenails, a multi-coloured Superdry sweatshirt topped off
with a pair of sunglasses; essential for the cloudy, rainy day, of course!
She paced back
and forth until the man behind the desk finally called out her name,
'I'm
afraid she didn't make it', he said.
'Is
it bad?' she asked apprehensively.
'Break imbalance
was 81%; it can’t go above 50%.'
'Exhaust
emission was 0.43; it can't go above 0.20.'
'There was no water in the wipers; we’ll let
you away with that, need I go on?' he said.
'Okay, so that's
not good, poor little Fox,' she said.
The mechanic
reassured her that Fox would make it next time.
In true Anzo
style, she put a sad selfie on social media with the caption,
'Poor
beep, beep failed.'
'Never mind Fox,
I still love you,' she said
Next it was my
turn; I was so busy laughing that I didn’t hear my name. The man called me a
second time. He asked me for my keys. Like mother, like daughter, I couldn’t
find them!
This time the
joke was on me as I emptied my bag; pens, loose change, hair brush. No sign of
my keys. In a state of panic, I lifted my bag for a final time; my keys winked
up at me from my seat.
'Ha, ha', Anzo
laughed.
She
then took a photo of Polo and posted it with the caption,
'I hope you fail Polo.'
Polo
was put through its paces,
'I
bet you have no water in your wipers', Anzo sniggered.
'I
look after Polo, unlike a certain someone'.
My
quiet confidence irritated Anzo. My name was called. I made my way to the desk
with a smug look on my face. I returned waiving a yellow NCT Certificate in the
air.
'You
passed, you little wagon.' Anzo grunted.
'Don’t you mean
Volkswagen?' I said.
Anzo
took a photo of me, cert in hand. The caption read,
'Polo passed; better luck next time Fox.'
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