I do not think of myself as excessively image conscious. I like to look good but in no way am I a label queen. I do not aspire to drive an over the top expensive car. I like cars that are different – that have a distinct design that does not appeal to all tastes because then it will not be a common sight on the road. This is why I chose a Renault Megane. It is now seven years old and still it is distinct in so many ways – the handbrake still draws comments from passengers!

But last week the Megane broke. The turbo went on a long trip and that’s where I started to learn something about myself. Did I fear for my safety while standing on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere? No. Was I angry that this went wrong at the start of my holiday? Not really. The issue was this: the car lost power to such an extent that I was struggling up a slight incline in second gear with smoke billowing out the exhaust over a queue of cars behind me. When I pulled over I was mortified that there was an audience witnessing the demise of my beautiful vehicle. I have always looked at people in similar situations with disdain, asking why they don’t bother to maintain their vehicle properly. I was hearing the driver of every passing car saying the same thing about me. Okay, I couldn’t hear them but I’m sure they were.

We were eventually picked up and the vehicle towed into a workshop. I breathed a sigh of relief having survived my shame on the side of the road.

When back from holiday it made sense for me to borrow my mom’s car while the Megane succumbed to the woes of a lack of spares that is so typically Renault. My mom kindly obliged and I’m saving on the cost of a hired car. But there’s a catch: my mom’s car is a 20-something year old Toyota. Hey, it goes well and gets me around…but it is 20-something years old. It has no fuel injection and remote locking. But it does have power steering and auto transmission. Oh, and the brakes need to be applied well in advance of needing to stop anywhere. But hey, it’s free transport while I wait to get my baby back.

However, I have developed an issue. I would never have thought that this would happen to me but I don’t want anyone I know to see me in this car. Do I judge others in older cars? Or is it the bumper sticker reading “702 Stuck on you” that is the deal breaker? I can’t put my finger on it. I think my thoughts are ridiculous. I have rationalised things by looking at the other cars on the road and seeing that there are other old vehicles out there. Ah, but none have an aerial that is buckled so that it phallically tends gently upwards like mine.

So I have this shame that will not go away. I have told myself that it is out of character and ridiculous. I have tried to rationalise it away. I have told myself to be grateful that I have free wheels for the unknown period that my car will be in the shop.

Then I go to gym. I arrive unnoticed and breathe a sigh of relief. After gym I climb in the car and turn the ignition and it fails to start. I try again but no. Stubbornly, in public, the car added to my feelings as people started to turn to see who was having car trouble. On the fourth try it started but, for me, my reputation was lying like a pool of oil in that parking bay as I sped off.

On the way home I laughed at me. I laughed that it has become such an issue. I laughed that I manifested the gym parking lot incident. Every time I think of how the car makes me feel I smile. It doesn’t make the feeling go away but it does make me feel better about it. Hey, I’m driving a classic!

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