Looking through the glove box of my Nan’s car, and checking out the vehicle I’d been left with, I was amazed at how dedicated she’d been to keeping her car maintained over the years. It was like she was certain that all hell might break loose if she dared miss a log book service. Ringwood had been home for Nan for most of her adult life, and she’d been very stoic in her ways, she stuck with the things she knew wouldn’t let her down.
Nan had kept every inch of the car beautifully primed- the seats threw up clouds of dust when you sat down but that was about the only thing that gave away the age of the vehicle, a silver convertible Peugeot 504, which had been kept in a shed since it was first purchased.
I have great memories of this car. For example, the one when Nan picked me up from school in it once with the top down, it was the first day of spring and she had been excited to have someone to ferry around.
‘Lets go for cups of chino!’ Nan had squeaked excitedly, her cheeks bright with rouge.
I felt pretty worried when I knew that Nan had left me her car, I wasn’t convinced it would be easy to look after considering it’s age. But the second I got behind the wheel, I loved it and wanted to look after it for her.
My new little Pug was due for it’s next service in less than two weeks, and wanting to stay true to Nan, I booked it in to the same place she’d had car servicing done in Ringwood from day one.
I love the continuity that having Nan’s car has meant for me. It’s a good feeling to be responsible for her pride and joy, and I know how much she loved driving it.
I’m looking forward to taking it for a spin and a cup of coffee, with the top down on the first of spring.