The Mazda

Here at WoogsWorld, we are not really into cars. Wine, good food, chocolate, laughing and wine, yes. But automobiles…………meh.

You see I always had a company car back when I was an important person working in the publishing industry. And I would almost certainly trash that car in some way or another. It rarely got cleaned and the last one I had before I went on maternity leave actually had a coat hanger fashioned into the shape of the map of Australia being utilised as the antenna when I handed back the keys.

When I resigned after my second baby, we were a bit stuffed. We were without car. So Mr Woog and I went up to the local second hand car place to check things out. We had never bought a car before and remember, we had 2 kids by this stage. I instructed Mr Woog to not say a word to the dealer. He is bloody hopeless when it comes to negotiations. He once upped his own offer on a property to a real estate agent. I am not kidding you. I had to call the agent and instruct that they were forbidden from now on to have any communication with him whatsoever.

So we decided on the Mazda and I sent Mr Woog and the kids out to play on the Pacific Highway while I did the deal. I remember sitting in the bosses office, telling him he was dreaming if he thought that that piece of crap car that we were interested in was worth anywhere NEAR what he was asking.

It reminded me a bit of the time my dear friend The Divine Ms M got upset when she had to trade in her uni car (aka the Death Trap) for a grown up car and she was sad to say goodbye to it. The dealer was one off those nasty pricks working the Parramatta Strip at the time, and sneered to her “Bloody Hell! You can buy it back for $20.”

My car dealer what a professional. A smooth, older dude more used to selling and buying the range of black BMW’s from bored housewives in Mosman who liked to trade in their cars after 12 months. I was (and still am) a scrappy, banshee like fish wife who was refusing to budge one cent on my offer.

Eventually, we shook hands. I left his office (I swear I heard him lock the door after me) and went and found Mr Woog and proudly told him we were the owners of a car! He was pleased with the price I got it down to (Of course you were darling, you would have paid slightly higher than the ticket price.) and then it dawned on us, that we actually had no means to pay for it.

5 years later we are still driving that piece of shit around, and in an area known for some seriously flash automobilia, we are easy to spot in the school line. Mr Woog likes to accessorise it with roof racks to ferry his latest fad about on it. He also purchased a roof boot, which has NEVER been used despite him insisting we would use it for camping. We have never been camping.

It has been in several accidents. It is a reliable cash sponge. It mainly houses school jumpers and old bits of fluff. And straws. And random paperwork. The other day I found and empty bottle of wine in the back. Every time I suggest to Mr Woog that we update the Mazda, he asks me “Would you rather get a new car or have a holiday to Bali in June with Kracker?” I would always prefer to holiday in June with Kracker.

So years have clocked over and we still have the Mazda. It has been there for me while I sat outside the school after drop off and sobbed for no particular reason. It has never broken down. It houses WWF fighting between the Woogettes where I have almost dislocated my shoulder trying to do the one armed swinging back smack, trying to make connection.

Have you ever tried to put kids in the car? Fricking nightmare. But I have a secret I am willing to share. I tell the Woogettes to go get in the car about ten minutes before actual departure time. This gives them ten minutes to fight about who sits where, whack each other with the spare seat belt a few times, let Jack have a good cry and then make up, all before I glide into the drivers seat. The above photo shows a shot of the Mazda from my study during this morning’s battle.

I think when it does come time to say goodbye to the Mazda, I will be sad. It was in essence my first car. And like me, it is a bit crumpled. There are quite a few lines on it. It is not shiny. There are way too many clicks on the odometer. And like me, it is sturdy, reliable and enjoys getting laughed at.

I think I might write a book about her, and call it Mazda and Me.