Trixie, my 9-year-old Korean SUV, is dead.

One minute she was fine, then there was a bit of a weird noise from underneath her front bit, and now she’s dead. Long story painfully short, it would have cost more to repair Trixie than Trixie was worth (in monetary value at least, for who can put a price upon emotional attachment?). And so Trixie has been sold off to a third party, who will likely put a second hand engine in and sell her for a first class price.

Good luck to him. I have moved on*.

Or rather moved across… the Korea Strait to Japan. Word on the street is that their engines are “bulletproof” (I assume that this was meant to mean indestructible, although the literal meaning could also be quite useful here in SA). Trixie’s replacement was sourced in East London of all places, but is already headed westward towards what passes as civilisation here**, and should be with us by this time next week.

I’m looking forward to the new vehicle, but (surprise surprise) we could have really done without this sort of expense. Cars aren’t cheap, hey?

Also, I will need a new Sheffield United sticker for the back window.


* at least, that’s what I’m telling my broken heart.
** Jeez. I’m just joking. Calm down, sweetpea. 

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