At the risk of coming across as a bit loopy (not Britney-shave-her-head crazy, but not far off) I talk to my car.
In fact, his name is The Hulk (he’s a green Mazda) and we speak often. Well, I talk with words of encouragement and he replies in performance.
This has always been something I kept private until my girls found me out. Awks.
My girlfriends and I were on a bit of a road trip, and after a big hill with all four of us in the car I congratulated The Hulk on a good effort.
He’s very small, and in my defence, he was outrageously gutsy.
They spent the rest of the trip laughing at me. I will spend the rest of this article trying to prove I’m not the only one!
There’s always been something fun in naming your car, it feels like you have a friend and together you go on adventures. They become a part of your life, a signpost when you recall memories. Who you were driving at university? When did they go to the big car yard in the sky while you upgraded to a smoother, classier friend? Anyone with me?
Thank God there were a few of my MIX radio listeners who put their hand up to say, 'I, too, talk to my car.'
Mags told me she used to “sign my niece's Birthday card as Aunty Mags and Mavis”. Mavis was her Astra and they went everywhere together!
Apparently, her little niece would wait on the driveway for Aunty Mags and squeal out to her Mum, “Mavis is here!”, carrying her favourite Aunt.