A collection of short stories and journalistic commentaries depicting my simple life
and how I fit in with the modern day universe of our times

CAR PORN


       

Some years back, in a previous home in South Manchester, I lived just down the road from a Greek family, the son of which owned a Cosworth Sierra.

You knew that he owned a Cossie because he spent most evenings cleaning and polishing it, or carrying out "essential maintenance". It was always parked conspicuously, yet unwisely, directly outside of his parents' house, despite its vulnerability to insane speed that other motorists would exhibit in careering blindly over the adjacent railway bridge as they shot past our properties.

And just in case anyone missed the point that this young lad owned a Cosworth Sierra, he would spend the rest of his time sitting on the wall outside of his house with his mates, talking about the supercar that he owned, the one that was just there in front of them.

I was given the impression that, to this young man there was little point in owning a Cossie if nobody else knew about the fact.

(I assume this is why young men now wear their Calvin Klein underpants on the outside, with trousers nowhere near even beginning to cover them. Because there is simply no point in paying the premium for underpants if no-one apart from your mum ever knows about it).

And I mention all this purely to remark about an incident in my street this morning.

It's a quiet street with a settled older community, where families have lived long enough to have raised children and seen them leave.

This is not true though in one particular household, where the son, a man in his mid fifties, still lives at home with his elderly mother. However, this man may still be living with his mother, but he owns an AMG Mercedes. Oooooh, yes, a big posh Merc. It's a convertible too, raven black with a soft top.

Other than my own little baby, this is a rather outstanding car for our street, as it's probably the only other vehicle without a dent in it!

Anyway, unlike myself and despite his age, this chap feels compelled to manifest all the same compulsions of my earlier neighbour, particularly when it comes to the carwash preoccupation. And once again, one must assume that this vehicle, rather than a successful career, or a lasting child-rearing marriage, represents the apogee of his life’s ambition.

Well quite frankly, I'm past caring since this morning's "display" when I witnessed what can only be described as a step too far. I had set out on my daily jaunt to the supermarket (on foot mind) and was just getting into my stride when, on passing the said Mercedes car, I saw the owner emerge from his mother's house dressed only in a towel. Yes, a single towel and a small one at that, draped around his waist, partly obscured by the pendulous beer gut that was resting upon it. He didn't even have slippers on, it was like he’d just stepped out of the bath, barely covered his modesty and then just walked out into the street, like he was living in Liverpool or something.

He then waddled over to his Mercedes, opened the boot, removed a suit and a white shirt, shut the boot and padded his way back into the house.

So, we can safely surmise that:

a) He was practically naked.

b) He is using a shiny convertible AMG Mercedes for a wardrobe.

c) He lives in my street.

I mean come on now... We're having enough trouble maintaining our over-inflated house prices as it is with this global recession, without having this white-trash floor-show, turning up on Google Street View on our behalves!

I have to say, I feel cheapened and unclean over the whole sordid incident.





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Its my own fault really, its all about what I see in the world, and how it all translates for me.

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