I (Schrockinator) took the car into the local garage this morning for the dreaded, annual MOT testing ritual. I find that people in Britain are less inclined to hold onto old cars because of the likelihood that they will be required to perform expensive maintanance each year. In my opinion this is probably just a lame excuse used to justify purchasing a new car.
All kinds of exciting things occured at the garage. The undertaker brought in the hearse for its MOT test. There was a discussion about how some relative (or perhaps more likely a former relative) is trying to claim partial ownership of the garage. A father-son construction team were surprised to learn that the truck they dropped off yesterday for some diagnostics no longer had an engine. A harried chap with some serious car trouble was worked into the schedule after a different bloke cancelled due to a mild case of “being arrested.”
During a quiet moment the middle-aged receptionist told me that she loved my accent and it made her feel like she was on holiday. She said she had really enjoyed listening to me as I booked my appointment the day before over the phone. She asked me quite a few questions apparently so that she could hear me speak more. In her defense there are not many Americans in this area; we have only randomly happened upon Americans once in the nearest town in all the time we have been here. My North Midland accent (what remains of it anyway) is truly exotic.
Forty minutes after arriving I was told that the car passed its MOT! And I was only out £53.10; it is just like an old farmer once told me, “A quid here, a quid there…”