Avensis bursht now too.

Tom asked: ‘What happened?’
‘I hit a dog a few days back.’
‘Did you kill it?’
‘I don’t know, car’s fucked now anyway.’
The recovery truck arrived. Calm driver with a green jacket and ginger hair and a Clare lilt in his voice. When he put the car up, he said: ‘Toyotas don’t usually go on recovery trucks.’
‘I hit a dog a few days back. That might have caused it.’
‘Oh. Where are we goin with this?’
I looked around. There was three or four Traveller’s kids zipping around us on pedal scooters, making smart comments in Limerick accents. I gave the driver the address. A place in Ennis, run by man called Joseph (pronounced with a “yo” instead of a “J”)
Tom said he’d drive us in his car, and we’d meet the truck there. We got lost on the way. Asked “Seri” the artificial I-phone guru for directions. She couldn’t find it and Tom called her a stupid bitch and she replied: ‘After all I’ve done for you?’
Later at the garage, after we found it by accident, Yoseph was Turkish and a big fan of Nissan Almeras. Had about five of them left around the place. He said something like “I make you borrow, while I fix your car. I wish CV joint is your only problem.”
There was another Almera inside with two busted windows. We stood in his office while he made tea and broken small talk. There was something about Christmas and the cold, and the difference between second hand parts and new parts and a Volvo that broke down when all it’s balls fell on the road. A ghostly smell of oil and something like tyres and an ominous hydraulic lift that made my wallet kinda queasy. When sufficient time had passed, he searched for the key of an available Almera and found it. A singular relic from 1998. We walked outside into the biting December night. Frost growing like a fungus. He started it up. A wine coloured kitten from a bygone age. Manual windows and a tape deck and a committed purr from the engine. Yoseph told another story about a filter and an NCT. The Almera’s exhaust sang fumes into the evening. My hands felt like ice creams, my feet like the North pole. Yoseph said to give it a day, maybe two. He has to find the part, then put it in, could be eighty Euros or more. Eventually we wiped the window with some big thick blue paper towels and I got going. Difficult to put it into third, but otherwise sound. Passed my Toyota on the way. It was looking sick and disappointed and jealous of the Nissan but what can you do. Someone said you can bill the owner of an animal now if hitting  it causes damage to your car, but fuck that. Put her into fifth as a bored drop of cold icy condensation fell on my head from the leaking sun roof. Pity I didn’t have any tapes. Bitta Guns ‘N Roses or something. Appetite for Destruction. Big shtuff.

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