Like A Virgin

My first car, I had only an eighth share in. It was a 1937 Austin 7.
I managed to convince 7 school friends to chip in half a crown each (50 cents) and so raised the 2 Pounds it took to buy it.
Of course I would be the one to "look after" it, in fact I looked after it to death.
It expired a couple of weeks later on the mud flats in a welter of spray and oil.
There followed a succession of venerable machinery, which all met a similar fate.
It is only recently that I have managed to own a car that was built in the 1990's.
When I was called to my vocation as keeper of the State Highways then, it was fitting that my truck should be of vintage.
It is a mature Isuzu, rapidly closing in on three quarters of a million hard kilometres.
It clangs and rattles and oozes body fluids. If I ever need a bolt or nut, I can just scratch around on the cab floor, they shake out of everywhere.
Today in the back of a Rotorua workshop I was taken to see the replacement.
It was under a cover while they fitted a sliding deck to the chassis.
It has 45 Kilometres on the clock. I have never, ever, driven such a new machine.
I feel like a groom in an arranged marriage.
In two weeks I can lift the veil

Rest Area 300m