2015 — 20 July: Monday
Yet more (unheard) overnight rain1 and I'm supping my morning cuppa while gently pondering a summary of my "research" last night into a possible replacement for my lovely little Yaris...
... a nice-looking Mazda 2 that's (obviously) a snip at a mere £15,195 on the road. 1.5 of those litre thingies in the engine gubbins, six whole speeds of automatic gearboxiness, and (I very much hope) the twin abilities2 to be supplied without tinted windows and to fit not too snugly into my little garage, whose new door matches my preferred choice of colour.
Since that nice Mr Hendy lives just down the road and has branched out from basic Fords into Mazdas (inter alia) I may just stroll on down there while I have Big Bro's vast motoring 'nous' to call upon. But not before breakfast, obviously.
I'm reading...
... the story here while noting that the Grauniad constantly chides me by a foot-of-page banner saying:
John "Never knowingly undersold" Lewis...
... asserts he is happy to insure my new car for somewhat less money than I've been paying to Mr Toyota. I shall give Mr Mazda a chance to come up with their quotation and then decide accordingly.
After today's visit...
... to the showroom and, of course, a nice little hair-raising test drive "around the block" — during which, I blush to admit, I nearly backed into3 a patiently-queuing lorry at red lights when I skilfully overshot "Drive" and landed on "Reverse" — I decided to let dear Mama buy me the thing as an early Xmas (or should that ex-Ma?) present. This will be the first-ever new car I've actually bought for myself.
I'd actually been on the lookout for a Suzuki Swift, too, but automatic transmission is a deal breaker, and they don't seem to offer that as an option. I could be wrong, but you can also lose the will to live after slogging through too many manufacturers' websites late at night after a long day. Particularly when your basic level of interest in cars is as low as mine is to start with.