It's entirely my fault mind you - I'm impossible.

It's not unknown, in fact it's often the case, that when I can't decide between one car and another I buy both to save thinking I got the wrong one. I blame my dad. When we were kids if one of us did something wrong he would batter all four of us so in his words ' he knew he'd got the right one'. I still have the scars.

I make so many mistakes because I tend to 'just do it'. I could have retired a wealthy man several times over by now - if only I wasn't me.

Again a car almost ran over me today. What’s more it was the same one as came close to hitting me a couple of weeks ago. I thought those early morning walks were supposed to be healthy. After surviving years of mayhem in the nightclubs how ironic that I end my days splattered like a hedgehog on a peaceful country lane.

The offending car scudded to a halt, but not soon enough, which meant that I had to do a reverse bunny-hop out of the way. I landed feet together, with both hands resting on the bonnet. Now I’m cursed with a short fuse, in fact I don’t so much have a fuse as a detonator, and in the split-second it took to realise I wasn’t injured I had decided to put this driver out of my misery. On such occasions all rationality goes out the window. All thoughts of going back to prison, the upset caused to families, the body searches, the crap food and interesting shower arrangements melt like April snow - I’d rather have a screw’s rubber-gloved finger up my ass than a Toyota.

I looked up at the driver, and the intent must have shown in my face, because she froze, but what happened next surprised me. Staring back at me was the biggest, bluest pair of surprised eyes you ever saw, wide as a 10p piece with black spidery lashes. Below them there wasn’t any face, just a big pink bubble. We stared at each other for what seemed an eternity, before slowly the bubble gum deflated, and there sat a blonde bimbo. I wasn’t mad any more; it was like trying to be mad at Goldie Hawn.

It’s funny how the big picture can change from one post to the next. In the last post I was looking for a hobby car to refurbish during summer, considering Renault 4’s and the like. Suddenly that landscape has changed. Judging from the reaction here I think I’m confusing some people about my motives for selling up and moving on, so I thought I’d do a post on the psychology of it, to explain how I made up my (ever changing) mind.

Firstly let’s get the easy stuff out of the way – Money.

When I had plenty of it I could, and did, do exactly as I pleased. Since the so-called credit crunch however, things haven’t been so rosy. I used to hold on to at least two vehicles - a classic and a modern, and ran both, swapping and choosing when it suited. Those days are over I’m afraid, if my wife and I are ever going to achieve our goal of leaving this country behind that is. Now my money, time and energy must go toward building a future.

Secondly – Time, the stuff that flies by every day.

That one’s a killer, as it changes everything. The era, the fashions, and the face that looks back at you from the shaving mirror are all mucked about by that one. And that’s why today, funny jokes are banned and 2cv’s are not dirt cheap – because times have changed.

Lastly, there’s technology.

This is purely my perspective but I’ll give it honestly. I grew up in the 1960’s when the cars in daily use were from the 1930’s, 40’s 50’s, or new for the sixties. They were what we now consider to be ‘classic cars’. They weren’t then of course, they were merely unfashionable old bangers.

By the 1970’s you could pick up those old cars for next to nothing, and I often did. Most importantly they were mechanically simple, easily fixed, and plentiful. As time passed they began to thin out, the better ones gaining in price (not value) I still wanted to drive a classic, but now the good ones were expensive. As luck had it I started driving 2cv’s - classics that weren’t considered classics. I started off with an old wreck. That old wreck earned my respect, so I fixed it up a little and wished I had a better example.

Now here’s the funny bit. Each time I’ve owned a good example I’ve always sold it. Somehow there isn’t the same fun involved. Improving a car makes me feel better, even if it’s just polishing the chrome, but one that can’t be improved upon becomes a liability. It makes me dread spoiling it. So oddly enough I derive more pleasure from old clunkers than from ‘condition one’ cars as the comics call them. I suppose then it would be easy enough to buy another 2cv for about a grand and start over, but the relative values of much better quality cars has dropped, making them more appealing.

Now here’s where I mention technology.

Were I to buy a fifteen year old banger today, unlike in the 1970’s or 80’s, it would have expensive EFI, engine management, catalytic converters and so on. No longer a cheap or easily fixable option – so 1980’s and 90’s classics aren’t that appealing to buy and run.

So what does an old car fan do now?

Simple - he either shells out and buys a decent example for the going rate, or a ratty crumb that just about passes the mot each year, or packs it all in and looks for what I call a ‘future classic’. With rising prices paid for anything using a ‘classic’ tag these days that’s the most obvious route to staying on the road without joining the modern financed-to the bollocks Euro-box brigade.

It’s also the one I’m going to take. This option benefits from not needing to take up much of your precious time on maintenance and so on because of modern reliability and build quality. It’s a car that’s neither new nor old, so the trick is then to spot the ones which might become a future classic from those that will just become old. By buying a good example of your chosen marque, and keeping it well you will once again manage to have not only depreciation free motoring, but see the value climb again as classic status takes hold. It won’t be as much fun as a 2cv of course, but this is the 21st Century, and few things are.

That's the way I'm seeing it at the moment. Some may have thought I'm doing down the 2cv for rising in price, but it's not that. Like the camper van idea it's borne of necessity to get serious and stop frittering away time and money on a hobby. Yes it's really come to that. How sad.

I thought the 2 car scenario quite good. Keep the 2CV for best with a limited mileage classic car insurance and buy a more modern box for everyday use. There are loads to be had at under a £1000 with a years MOT. Run it till it needs something expensive and then throw it away and get another. This assumes. of course that you have space for 2 cars.

That's how I used to roll, but no more. I'm trying to simplify things now, to pare down the mountain of stuff accumulated over a lifetime that I drag in my wake. I'm sure there comes a point when the stuff you own actually gets to owning you. The last four houses I've leased were chosen primarily for their garage and drive. In other words I've leased garages with a house stuck on.

If I was older, or settled in my own home then things would be different I suppose, but with the amount of flitting about I do less is better. I'd also like to look at the accommodation of a potential let without dismissing it out of hand 'cause it has no garage. As I said, when the going gets tough the 2cv gets going. It's for the best all round, as I simply can't afford to keep renting £800 a month houses just so I have a garage for the 2cv.

I blame the bankers... Oops there I go again.

Point of order, Sir.

Late '80s/early '90s injection is a doddle to fix. There's no knee-deep computers running the windows/lights/wipers. It's just like '70s/early '80s cars, but a bit more reliable and with better rust-proofing.

It was the mid '90s where it all started to head south.

Want to buy that very, very rare thing? A totally usable, everyday reliable, serious-fun classic? A black 3dr 1990 Saab 900 T16? A proper one, not a Vauxhall Cavalier in drag. And only half the price of your bluboo.

Fair enough I suppose. But you know what? I can't think of a single car from that era that I like. I didn't even like them back then.

That's a car I've never considered but certainly a future (if not current?) classic.

If I'm honest with myself, I could find a way to justify keeping the 2cv but I won't. There's the cheap insurance (£98) 44-ish mpg, and zero depreciation all going for it, but as I said it also needs housing overnight away from local muppets which is restricting. I'm also getting fidgety. I've always been what they call up here a bit of a 'rum' lad, and this new found domesticity is killing me.

I now know how circus animals must feel. Mow the lawn - hup! Now be polite to the neighbours ...drumroll... Tada! Now I'm not suggesting a return to a full-tilt abuse of - well just about everything, but I'm really not cut out for doing ordinary things, amongst ordinary people - it's bloody awful!

I try my damndest to be nice, to be 'normal' but it's hard. I want myselfback! What I'm going to do is what I always do in times like these, I bring the roof down, burn the bridges, and shoot for new horizons. I've been looking at fast cars on ebay, there'll be no camper vans in my immediate future I can tell you. I'll buy her a kitten or something that'll keep her occupied. I genuinely like old cars, but I can't make old cars my life to the extent that they colour my judgement and dictate where I live as they have this last few years.

Anyway, I need to make some money now as all mine has gone. Sometimes that calls for not turning up in a 2cv.

Ah.



<looks at pics of bluboo>
Balls you can't.

You have serious skills. You can make old cars your (lucrative) life.

Not possible mate. I remember my final school report which said;

"Old-Nail is his own worst enemy. He has abilities that he steadfastly refuses to use."

It turns out the old bugger wasn't as daft as I'd thought him, he got me spot on.

When I was a younger man, back in 1979 I was working with a guy named Hubbard. Thick grey hair, barrel chested, broken nose. Back then I was a tearaway, like you do, and old Hubbard was a well respected hard man. A Londoner, and an ex-boxer who in his words had "Come out' the fackin' way' of the Krays.

He did with me what I now try to do with other youngsters, he took me under his wing and taught me how to survive. He used to call me 'novice'. "What's your fackin' gayme novice?" He would say in a thick cockney accent (when he caught me up to no good) Every now and again we'd be stood at the door and he'd burst into song, and he had a fine voice too I'll tell you.

"Why don't you take me ho-me Kath-leen" He'd sing, bloody awful old songs they were to me, but Hubbard was about 55 back then - positively ancient! So why am I telling you this? Well it's because Hubbard knew about life, he knew about violence, and he knew people, so he taught me what he knew. I guess I never did meet someone who knew about something that might actually be of benefit to me in a more accepted environment.

The skills I already have are increasingly academic. I'm 51, and suffering slow kidney failure, so what I was good at will eventually fail me, and what I could be good at I no longer have the time to perfect. Ain't life a bitch.

BUT. Some poet or other once penned 'Rage against the dying of the light!" And in my own daft way that's exactly what I do.

As well as the Saab I'd have a serious look at a mid 90s Volvo, 940 or 240, if you look hard enough you can find a gas converted one. Personally I wouldn't go much beyond the mid 90s. Once the car started to get CAN Bus electrics it all got a bit overly complicated.

My own Volvo 940 is now on 220K miles and it is still going strong.

The other left field option is a gas converted Jeep Cherokee, lots of them around for beer monedy.

Zzzzzzzzzzzz