The flying purple Mini
with loose muffler
severed the evening repose
with explosive
farts
*
My first car was a Mini, affectionately known as The Purple Flying Brick.
A sweaty sauna in summer, a miserable icebox in winter - sheepskin coat, beanie and gloves were essential clothing.
“Agricultural” some said disparagingly,
but fun nonetheless.
I loved it except for the red-faced embarrassment it caused late one wintry night when the muffler fell off.
Dressed to the nines for a night on the town I scavenged in the gutter for twine to hold the muffler on.
It took a while to acknowledge that fast or slow made no difference, entire neighbourhoods within miles knew I was coming.
***
Thanks to Hart and her commenters for the inspiration for this post. It was fun to write and brought back many fond memories of living with an aging Mini. Wish I had a photo...
NB: No Oreos were consumed in the writing of this post.
A drabble is a story told in 100 words. No more, no less.
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2 comments:
Haha! Well observed.
Richard: I had so much fun with this one. Glad you liked it; thanks for saying so.
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