my car roars

Battleaxe the old grinder is my lovely pooh-brown ole faithful who has done 15 years and is about due for some long service leave. And we love her. We love Battleaxe even though we don't always respect her body. And she's got the scars to prove it. Sorry for that baby.

But today we got one step closer to repaying the love and am re-installing air-conditioning. After Muzz borrowed and broke it. Sorry for that baby.

And reinstalling air-con is not cheap. Not even for an old battleaxe. And Battleaxe needs other things like a new rear indicator and a new pilot mirror and to get the hella mirror rescrewed and a bigger battery and more importantly, new tyres altogether, including the spare. She needs some (minor!) panel beating and a new fender and a whole new coat of paint. Sorry for those baby.

So Battleaxe doesn't look a million dollars, she has the heart of a lion and suits me just fine. Ain't noone gonna steal my baby (touch wood!!) - she's a bit of a Cinderella you see, only everone thinks she's the ugly sister. And she loves me back. I can tell. Because she doesn't let me down. Only when I forget to turn off my lights and things like that. Sorry for that baby.

So maybe we're not going to go for the new coat of paint and maybe we're not going to beat out all the dents. But we will run with the best oil and battery water and we will clean you inside and out and will give you some aircon so you can spend the rest of your twilight days in relative comfort. How about that baby?

The thing I love best about Battleaxe is that she ROARS. She's got soul. And she leaves laggers behind to eat her dust. She doesn't much care about appearances. It's what is underneath the hood that counts. And that's why she's ricebag's.