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A Lovers Tiff “The course of true love never did run smooth,” says the Bard, and of late, I am afraid my little Ferrari has been behaving like so many lovers uncertain of their true feelings. In fact, he threw me over! I was crushed, in more ways than one. Let me tell you the story of our rocky romance.
A
ll was going well until last evening when I took the new love of my life on his maiden, forgive the oxymoron, voyage. Since I had been without a vehicle for a week, I had run out of many essentials and needed to do a big shop. I had packed some of my many purchases in the basket at the front and more in the large shopping bag at the rear, and I suspect that I may have unbalanced my little Ferrari who took umbrage at being
so burdened on our first trip together. Anyway, whilst negotiating a steep bend with an incline in order to try and avoid some pedestrian bars, Ferrari, in a fit of pique, decided that enough was enough, and toppled over, pinning me beneath him. As I lay there in his embrace, unable to either extricate myself or get back on to my feet, I had time for contemplation. I felt pretty sure that I was not seriously hurt even though I could feel the odd trickle of blood running down my arm and hands, but what of Ferrari? I was in no position to examine him but felt he must, at the very least, have acquired some serious scratches. I felt confident that help would come reasonably quickly, surely no-one seeing an elderly lady lying on the footpath with a scooter on top of her, would think she was just having a rest. I tried to be philosophical about the indignity of my predicament but was grateful when a delightful young lady called others to assist her in my rescue. From being alone, I was
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suddenly an object of interest to a great multitude of concerned well-wishers. Three or four folks lifted Ferrari off me and assured me he was undamaged. Not quite the case as, like myself, he had several scratches and one of his little wing mirrors was bent, but most importantly of all, the two bottles of wine I had previously purchased, remained intact. As I was bleeding and had knocked my head, the populace insisted on calling an ambulance which arrived in record time. The lovely “ambos” checked me over and pronounced me bloodied but not terminally battered and there followed a lively discussion as to how I was going to get Ferrari back to his docking station. I assured everyone that that I felt quite well enough to drive him home and so was allowed to do so provided that I took extra care and reported if I began to feel ill in any way. When home, I had a warm
shower to wash off the gore, changed into clean clothes and attended a zoom meeting I had already scheduled. I must admit I hid my damaged hands beneath my computer desk but thanks to the longsleeved tee-shirt I was wearing the blood I could feel trickling down my right arm remained invisible. I am a tough old chuck! The next morning I felt fine apart from bruising and the loss of some fingertips. After a few words with Ferrari, I assured him that all was forgiven and that since we were both to blame, the wisest thing to do was to kiss and makeup. Codicil: Sincere thanks to the holidaymakers and especially Bribie Ambulance who came to my aid. Elaine Lutton
