It's the End of the Road for this Love Affair
written by Kevin Summers, December 2000
When did it happen? It's hard to say. Can one point to a particular moment in the death of a relationship and state, yes, that's when it all grew cold?
But I knew, deep in my soul, as I approached 50, I had to cut the ties.
The affair had lasted many years. It had been passionate. At times it had been costly, and I had no doubt that it would be a future drain on my resources. So I made the decision. I would sell my car and not buy another. I would end this liaison, hopefully without regret.
My former partner had appeared in various guises. She had been a trusty Wolseley 1500 and accompanied me to university, then an XT Falcon to facilitate my travels about the continent. Once, memorably, she surfaced in the unlikely form of an Austin Tasman, christened The Crab by my friends for her rough, shuffling gait.
Latterly she came to me as a Ford Escort, showing both her age and an increasingly irascible temperament. I had to admit that I no longer enjoyed her company.
The fond memories will remain with me. She fulfilled an important role in what laughingly passes as my personal growth. But I have moved on and no longer need her. She belongs to my yesterdays and I shall embark upon my future without her.
While I have the knees to do so, I shall walk and ride my venerable Malvern Star. Hopefully my fitness will improve and I may be able to halt the southerly drift of my abdomen.
And I can think. I can put one foot in front of the other and contemplate why my beloved Bulldogs seem unable to win another premiership.
I could never do that with my former lover. She had become much too demanding, intent on taking up my mind with traffic snarls and cavalcades of red lights and seas of angry faces. My adieu will put an end to entanglements with others still infatuated by their machines: young men in American caps looming large in my rear-vision mirror, sweet young things applying make-up as they career past, devotees of enormous four-wheel-drives chatting on mobile phones and steering by magic.
And I am looking forward to patching up my relationship with public transport. We share a history of mild but fractured flirtation. She has often charmed me with herW-class trams and occasionally taken my breath away with the swiftness of her trains.
It is true that she is poor - through no fault of her own - but she is interesting. While often unreliable and lacking punctuality, she is capable of evoking humor, wonder and even a sense of danger, especially late at night. She is restless, busy and, unlike the car, she suffers fools gladly. Most of all, she has a heart.
Human nature being capricious, I may change my mind and return to the arms of my old paramor, pleading that it was a dreadful error of judgment. I can't function without you. I'm a typical Australian who needs the certainty of four wheels on vast expanses of asphalt.
She would certainly welcome me back, though she doesn't really need me. She has many other lovers to offer her comfort.
My main concern is the attitude of my friends. They probably thought my previous relationship was one of enduring vigor and may look with disfavor upon my new love. They may think her rather tatty and unglamorous.
Yet a decent case can be made for those who wear sensible underwear. And a man must follow his heart.
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