Finally got myself a new car yesterday. This, for those who don't already know, was to replace my last one, that failed its MOT at the end of June due to a slight case of being one switchback away from telling its steering column to piss off and going rogue.
Gaining new wheels proved to be quite the trial. The first car I tried to go see turned out not to actually be on sale, or rather, the company displaying it on their website had no fucking clue where it actually was. Possession might be nine tenths of the law, but the final 10% of knowing where the things you possess actually are is pretty important too.
The second car I homed in on at least had the common courtesy to exist at a known point in the space-time continuum, but there the good news ended. It was in slightly more tattered a condition than I had been led to believe, but that wasn't particularly relevant, since the damn thing wouldn't actually start. We sat in the warm whilst the poor schlub trying to sell this POS tried to recharge the battery in the pouring rain, before coming back in to tell us there was a definite electrical fault, and could we come back tomorrow after they'd fixed it. Strangely, this suggestion did not appeal.
In one way, though, that was a shame, because I was really looking forward to buying a car whilst the sky was alive with lightning. I figured I could call the car "Daenerys Stormbought", because that's the kind of thing a geek should do. Alas, when I bought a car that was both where it should be and capable of moving someplace else, there was no more than a gentle shower humming on her rooftop.
Clearly, then, she has been named "April". If anyone asks, I'll just say it was after this lady here, who is well worth being remembered: