dug 
I recently bought Nicki a new car. Or more precisely, some faceless financial institution is letting me keep a car that Nicki uses as long as I promise to give them money every month for the rest of my life;-)
I’ve never owned a car before, I’ve been a motorcycle person my whole life. I’ve heard so much about that new car smell and about the experience of taking the plunge and buying one of the beasts and expected to take part in this emotional journey populated by Ivy league looking boys with brill-creamed hair and white teeth. I expected shaggy dogs to bark at fire engines and lots of friends with big white smiles to cheer me on as I got the sponge and bucket out on the first weekend to give the thing a clean.
Now for some reason I’ve always struggled to participate in a certain type of mythology. I want that happy summer afternoon with whitewall tyres and choc-malts but instead I just feel like shit about it.
mmm…
Anyway, I am now safe in the knowledge that my wife and child are tooling around town in a comfortable world of airbags and tension regulated seat-belts, and you know, even though this takes us one step further up the great cliché ladder of life, knowing the girls are heavily armed makes me feel pretty good…