I was on a train, sat in front of a group of men who spent most of the
journey talking about cars. As this is a subject about which I know
little I didn’t pay too much attention but I couldn’t help but tune in
when one of them made an unusual comparison.
Man 1 (dismayed) “The whole car smelled like trees.”
Man 2 (sombre-as though he had suffered the same nightmare at some
point) “Really…”
Man 1 “Aye, someone had smashed the rear window and the damp had
gotten in. It smelled like my Audi.”
Man 2 “The one you got off your cousin?”
Man 1 (with bitterness) “Yeah, that one.”
Man 2 “How is he?”
Man 1 “Doing well for him self. You have to watch him with money
though. That Audi wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. And he’s pulled
some sort of stunt with his mortgage, God knows how, but he’s ended up
with a four-bedroom place.”
Man 2 “Whereabouts?”
Man 1 “Just around the corner from where he was. It’s still dodgy
though. For all his rooms he’s no garage. Someone had the wheels off
his car, they had the radio.”
Man 2 “What did he do?”
Man 1 “Set it on fire for the insurance. He’s got the new one now.”
Man 2 “What’s it like?”
Man 1 “Pretty smart, but it’s got to him though, the money. I went round
to look at the car and when I got to the house he asked me to take my
shoes off.”
Silence followed, heavy with judgment, as though such protocols were
sub human, and best not dignified with more discussion.
Michael Holden
No comments:
Post a Comment