The big blue van (Mefanwy the van we have, Jean Claude the damn van) is coughing black soot this morning. Which is not heartening, as I have a little love for my VW T3. It's big and strong and barrels up the M5 with aplomb.
But it's not well now, an air filter may be clogged, there's carbon in its stomach that's belched out on cold mornings.
Still, I love the raised perspective without the power steering the van affords me. I look at wankers cutting me up on slip roads in shiny beamers and think, fuck you, this vehicle cost me a thousand pounds, yours cost you your integrity.
Anyway, accelerates like a cow wading in treacle, corners like a walrus, but makes me smile when I drive.