Joycee’s motor, which was my motor and now subtly but firmly adopted by the wife, needed new tyres, four of them. Through my watering eyes I took my plastic card back and was glad at least that the girls would now be safer on the road.
The gravelly throat and wheezing had kept me on the couch for a couple of days but the paracetamol loosened off the vocal chords enough for me to agree to giving the motor a wee run to see how it felt. Holly was at Granny’s and not shifting, or indeed even contemplating putting on anything but her pyjamas’s on during this frosty day.
A quick spin up to Luss and grabbing a cuppa was the plan. The motor was running smooth, the old tyres apart from having a couple of slow punctures really had made for a rough ride. The road was good, we’ll keep on for a bit.
The sun was getting low, the snow was glowing pink and orange, the music was good and the miles just disappeared. It got dark as we ate in the Glen Coe cafe, sat by the window grinning back at each other.
A new day but like the old days.