note: this is not Adam's Corona, oh no! Add a rust spot or two and a wonky front bumper and then we'd be getting accurate.
This is old news, I just didn't get around to blogging it.
On Tuesday morning, Adam's car died. It was expected.
It breathed its last on the Mt Henry Bridge at 4.40am. It went down in flames, just as I suspected it always wanted to.
*sniff* I used to take the piss out of his car all the time. I called it 'La Poubelle' and Adam would get all angry and say, 'Stop calling it a bin, it's a machine of a car!'
Well not anymore. It's not a machine in any way, shape or form.
Like I said, before the relationship between me and the Corona was one of love/hate. I hated the fact that it was defective and so elusive that it always managed to avoid getting yellow stickered. I hated having to drive it because... well it was just clunky and crap to drive.
But then as I was on my way to pick Adam up from work that day, I realised something.
That car, no matter how annoying had so many memories. Like mine and Adam's first kiss (in front of my house after our first date, awkward moment, both of us totally wanting to kiss each other but definitely tip toeing around it, until we decided to kiss and scare the neighbours, so what if it was 2pm on a Saturday in broad daylight?)
And laying down on the back seat after the chartreuse incident, with me saying 'I'm so sorry' and 'I love you' ad nauseum.
And the time when I met Adam's friends for the first time and his friends nicknamed me 'Wayne'.
Oh yeah, and there was that time in Subi when I thought a crazy guy on a bike was stalking me so I rang Adam and he drove as quickly as he could to pick me up. All I wanted to see was that shitty red Corona come around the corner.
So here's to you, Mr Corona (or la poubelle). Thanks for the memories and have a great time in that car yard in the sky.
ps. thanks for the cd player. The Fusée will love that one!
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