The Joy Of Motoring

I love my car.

Not as much as La Belle Fille, who is always sparklingly funny, especially when she talks in her sleep, but quite a lot.

However... it is an Alfa Romeo.

The car looks good.

It sounds good.

It drives well.

But it spends a lot of time broken down.

I don't object to this as much as the fact that there are never any fucking parts. Ever.

Share with me my current car flail.

Had the bastard serviced on the second, when they told me there was a problem with the power steering, and some sort of new tubing was required. It was, unsurprisingly, not in stock, but would be by the following Tuesday.

On Monday afternoon, the expected phone call came; the parts weren't available, much to the dealers's surprise. I opined that this was just what i had expected. Never fear, I was told, they had put me on a 'VIP' list, and the parts would be in situ within 48 hours. I suggested to the dealer, that I was sceptical about this, and was prepared to have a little wager with him, to the effect that the parts would take weeks, if not months, rather than days to come in.

48 hours later, I called back. Much to my surprise, no word had come from Alfa as to the availability, or location of the parts.

I'm still waiting. It'll be 2 weeks on Thursday.

For those of you thinking I deserve the pain for owning an un-necessarily expensive, showy, penis-extension of a car... you're probably right, but you've also probably owned an Alfa