Oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes benz. Preferably a new model, so that I don't have to undergo the dreaded NCT every year. I had no idea just how stressful the national car test actually is. As I took my 14-year-old car down to the Galway centre, I felt like an anxious parent in the build up to the Leaving Cert. It has been many years since I had been through the process of watching my car go through its paces and I didn’t know what to expect. The last time it was my vintage beetle bug. It failed (one light was dimmer than the other). I cried.
This is not my beloved bug, but it looked very similar
This time, I watched as my beloved vehicle entered a queueing system, where you can watch as your registration moves up the line on a small screen towards the chopping board. The waiting room has windows dotted along the perimeter, so you can witness as your classic banger screams through the process of wheel spins, light checks, brake and emissions tests and the final 'you raise me up' podium test. My heart was in my mouth during the entire process. As my old gent was brought in, I was drawn to the window, willing it to do well and hoping to make pleading eye contact with the mechanic. I wanted him to know there was a human behind the hump of metal he was inspecting.
Like clockwork, row after row of cars are lined up and wheeled out as the mystified owners are called, one-by-one, to the advisory desk on completion. Many walk away with an enormous 'thank you!' and you know they're child has graduated successfully. Others are kept for a short time to explain how and why their car just hasn't made the grade. I was expecting an end of life certificate - an 'I'm sorry mam, but there is nothing more than we can do' for your beloved BMW. Yes it's a petrol guzzling, noisy, guffawing kind of a vehicle, but I have a genuine attachment to the old gent, who I bought for €1,200 last year. I know little about mechanics, but I give him an ould wash by hand every now and then, and a gentle hoover to make sure its bits are clean.
I am a timid and anxious driver behind the wheel, and even more timid and anxious when I have to hand my car over to those who will decide its fate. I don't particularly like driving. I am much happier to walk and cycle. However, I have moved out of the city lights to the country wilderness and am a car dependent rural dweller. But my car is a gentle giant, sturdy and reliable, and has seen its fair share of life since it's year 2000 beginnings as a company car for a meticulous German businessman. He too, loved it, and was concerned that it went to a good home, as he traded up to a Mercedes. But no amount of car washing can keep wear and tear at bay, and I knew going in, that we were lined up for failure.
This is not my car - sadly
I decided I was going to yell 'THANK YOU' at the destiny desk as I was leaving, in a bid to fool everyone that we had passed with flying colours. Instead, I opted for a final bit of eye fluttering charm to see if I could impress with one last bid not to have to return again. "That engines very noisy," he said. "Ah it's only the air breeder valve," I replied, with a sudden burst of car know how. "I think it's more than that," he mustered. "Not at all, tis easy fixed" I emplored. Anyhow, I had an irrevocably damaged tyre, a giant lump in the rubber that was fit to burst at the next turn. Darn. And something about a bearing. Other than that, the old gent is still fighting fit and fancy free. Sadly I have to go back, but I am looking forward to finding the right mechanic who actually cares enough about my ould beemer. It's like finding the right nursing home, I need people who actually give a crap.
Speaking to my friends, they too experience NCT anxiety. One argues that it is discriminating against those of us who can't afford a new car, as we have to return annually. I'd like to get another year or two out of my old faithful, and next year, will check the tyres, just in case.
