This afternoon we let the weather dictate to us how long it took to get home. We reached impassable back roads and turned around. We never even reached some of the more used roads as the queues told us that the journey ahead was impassable as well. After a couple more U-turns we used what was left of the possible paths home and our sketchy knowledge of the local topology to get us home. Eventually we found a way home taking us through two swollen burns that seemed not to care how much of the road they had adopted.

Driving through the torrents and puddles we noticed how our little car seemed to have a less power than normal. The moist air was the obvious culprit and then we contemplated how the modern car can cope with so much. We reminisced about how we used to have cars that would refuse to even start in such weather. They had to be coaxed with the throttle and choke until they reluctantly started. And then they had to be nurtured along the road in such damp weather. We remembered one car we used to own in our pre marriage years. The carburetor was in such a sorry state that a foot had to be kept ready on the accelerator pedal to keep it going. We even went through an MOT test with this car in its condition and explained that if we had to stop the engine we might not be able to get it started again. It passed.

While reminiscing about our cars the lovely Sharon brought up a recollection about having to start her mum and dad’s car with a starter handle. I have a vague memory of hearing the story before but this time it got me thinking; just how old is the lovely Sharon. I can say with certainty that she is older than me, as I have no recollection of starting cars with wind up handles. I know she caries more wisdom than her years but of course it is rude to ask about specifics, but I have my theories.

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