Norman's last hours. Sadness.

Norman left us today.
He had been part of the family for over five years. Included in many an outing, taken on shopping trips, or adventures around the island, he was very much loved. He even accompanied J and C to school as soon as he was able.
He wasn't, however, terribly well cared for. He would occasionally get a brush-up, even a wash; generally kept well watered, and we made sure he always had enough energy to join in with whatever was going on. There were seasons of neglect, though. When Cat and Jonny were away, he got very little attention from the Parents. Occasionally, I'd let him come with me on a journey to school, but otherwise I would deliberately leave him at home on his own. He wasn't, at the time, particularly important to me. Once Cat or Jonny came home from uni, he was up and about again, privy to many a secret as friends hung out together.
I took Norman for granted. I think we all did, in one way or another, but he was, generally, very faithful to us, doing whatever we asked of him. He carried all Jonny's surfboards for him, putting up with the sand and seawater. He didn't much like sand, but still went on the beach. Getting him off it was more of a challenge: I'm sorry to say that he only agreed to climb up the slipway when threatened. We'll gloss over the next bit, save to say that that the tide was coming in rapidly while he was still on the beach, and that LARGE stones had to be used to persuade him.
Towards the end, he really became the worse for wear. He looked beaten-up, battered and worn out. He still had lots of energy once he got going but it sometimes took a while...but towards the end his battery just ran flat all the time.
So, with intense sadness, we reluctantly decided he had to go. His life - exciting, adventurous, faithful, true - had come to an end.
He was reluctant to leave us. Halfway to his final resting place, he ground to a halt. Refused to move. We were left with no alternative but to plug him in to a new battery.
Arriving at the cemetery, it was all over in a matter of minutes. As we walked away, he was being pushed around the corner by three burly men.
So sad.

There he is. He's the good-looking one in the middle.
We wanted to give him a good send-off, but couldn't get it organised in time. He was never very keen on drinking, fortunately for him (brushes with the police were few and far between), so perhaps that wouldn't have been appropriate. But please do join us in our mourning by adding your fond memories of Norman into the comments box below.
Thank you.

Norman in his heyday...

...with J, ready for the surf...

...and sharing secrets with his friends Mary and Cat.
PS In case you think we have been unduly harsh, let me detail what was wrong with Norman: the windows did not wind any more - up was up, down was down; the door hinges were broken, so that the door would swing wildly open and refuse to shut properly; the windscreen was beginning to need new cataracts - the glass was beginning to become opaque; there were rust holes in the floor; the door trim had become detached and the front bumper had had several disastrous connections with rocks. 'Nuff said!

Norman and I

Although we live together, Norman and I have a somewhat strained relationship. The trouble is, we don't really appreciate each other. Norman doesn't appreciate the care I give him - all the cleaning and tidying I do, for a start, not to mention feeding him whenever he is hungry. I've tried to be a good friend to him - but he just isn't interested. He's completely unresponsive when I try to talk to him, just doing his own thing as always. He is SO grumpy.

I have to say, I don't appreciate him either. Yes, I know he helps me with the shopping - but it's only because it's too much for me to carry on my own. He's useful for helping me take the kayak down to the beach, or comes along when I want to go surfing - not that he ever joins me. He seems to have an aversion for water and doesn't even like to go on the beach. Where's the company in that? It's enough to make me want to go on my own.

Then he always looks so SCRUFFY - he could do with a good spit and polish at least. I don't think he's actually had a bath for a couple of years now - it doesn't bear thinking of. As for the smell...old socks and bad BO. It's not so bad when we're out, although he's not exactly the sort of friend you'd want to be seen with. But otherwise - who'd want to sit down with him for a quiet cup of tea? Not me.

I mean, we were out together the other day, but he wouldn't even go at the pace I wanted. He dragged his heels, going as slowly as he could get away with, grumbling constantly. AND coughing and spluttering, pretending he was having trouble breathing. Of course, I wasn't having any of that and just carried on as normal, pulling him along without taking any notice. You just have to ignore that sort of behaviour - they all come round to your way of thinking in the end.

That's exactly what happened. After a while, Norman decided he would have some fun and just took off at a terrific pace. He didn't say anything and wouldn't admit to enjoying our little outing, but I can read him like a book. It's as if he's saying, "Oh no, I won't, oh no I WON'T... oh, all right then!". I wasn't prepared for that and had to hang on, clinging on to him as we careered round bends and corners without a thought for who might be coming the other way. Fortunately, the way was clear and he slowed down to a more reasonable pace after a few minutes. I do think he should show me a little more consideration. There was an amazing amount of 'get up and go' in him - he's not young any more, after all. Who would guess he was 25 years old?

Young, do I hear you say? Oh, for a human, that's young. But for a Renault 5 - geriatric isn't the word for it! For a car,25 years is well past 'sell-by' date, so actually, he's doing extremely well!

Hmmm...maybe I DO appreciate him after all!