Thursday, 4 November 2010

No Baking, Just Obsessions

So, what's this blogging lark all about? In the spirit of recent times, I actually went ahead and googled it. Yeah, I am getting weirder by the minute. But this is what I found. "An online journal, published frequently,(often daily)". Aaalriight. But daily? DAILY?? " A shared online journal where people can post diary entries about their personal experiences and hobbies. " Ok. So it's a diary. Of sorts. Get that. So, as far as I can see, it's your place to write pretty much what you please, whatever happens to be flying around in your brain at any given moment. But hobbies? Do I have hobbies?? And you know what's going to happen now, don't you. " A hobby is a small thing, less than an obsession, but requiring more care and effort than a casual interest." Lord I love that part about it being less than an obsession... But back to the topic, do I have hobbies then? I'm not sure, as I tend to get either rather, yeah, well, obsessed about things, or just mildly interested in which case I really can't be bothered most of the time. Sure, I'll give it a try but usually tend to get bored before you can say 'See, isn't this fun?" 

So, obsessions, then. Hmmm. Books. Now there's an obsession alright. Food? Naaah, I guess that would belong to the hobby category. Oh wow! See! I do have a hobby! Good girl. Well now, I used to be seriously obsessed about dancing, running and all sorts of keep-fit activities. And should the day come when my body decides to act its age instead of pretending to belong to an eightysomething grandma, I will, no question about it, be all for it again. Yeah, that IS an obsession. I can feel my pulse quicken at the mere thought of running in the woods...What did I say, I am getting weirder by the minute, but come on now, it's not as if I were revealing my secret taxidermy habit here. And no, I am not obsessed by taxidermy. Eeewww. 
But of course, how could I forget? Cars. You heard me. Cars. Not just any cars, though. Old cars. The Beetle. Triumph Spitfire. Ford Mustang. The Karmann Ghia. Love love LOVE. 

Ok, so that's a Saab, but you get the picture...

Or at least now you do.

And what do I do? I drive a decade-old, dilapitated Opel. Muahaahaahaa. Done laughing? Good. Now get a grip on yourself. My first car ever was a 1970 Volkswagen Beetle that broke down as it was being driven from its previous owner to my place. Should I have taken that as discouragement? Hell, no, that was a love affair born right there and then. Many things could be said about that car, but boring was never one of them. Must have been a sight to be seen, me and my two girlfriends standing behind that car stranded by the side of the road, smoke coming out of the poor old motor and my friend desperately trying to cool it by waving a Vogue magazine at it. And more than once I myself was left fiddling with the same motor when The Car just decided that it had gone far enough. You see, that was not a car  in the habit of asking my opinion about how far was far enough. I met some funny characters because of that car, and had to stifle many a laughter when men would stop by as I was fixing that car en-route and invariably think that they knew more about car engines than poor little old me. Hey dude, I fixed up that car myself! I changed the engine! I crawled for hours under that thing! I painted it! I fixed the electrics! Yeah ok, so one of the lamps only works if you stick a piece of aluminium bubble gum wrapper in a certain place in a certain position inside it but who cares, it works! See, that car was a labor of love.

That's not mine, but almost exactly like it. Except mine had eyelids. Yes, eyelids.


The only real problem with that car was, however, that I guess the car for der volk was not meant to be driven at temperatures reaching to -35C ( or -31F). There is a well founded joke saying that one does not need seatbelts in a Beetle when it gets below zero since your butt freezes to the seat anyway. Which is good because you are bound to get into an accident as the windows keep freezing over no matter how much you try to scrape them, thus obscuring any other vehicles, lamp posts or indeed, lifeforms, from your sight. And this is why I drive that blasted Opel. Many things may be said about that car as well, and boring is certainly one of those things. Hasn't left me stranded once. And when you're carting around a three-year-old, waving a Vogue at a smoking engine sort of ceases to be amusing. 

But I have high hopes. I keep scanning the ' for sale' sections in newspapers. I read classic car magazines. I keep an eye on the price developments. And I have no doubt one day I will be the proud owner of one of these tricky creatures again. A brand new Audi or BMW still with its factory smell? You have got to be kidding me. Give me the rotting frame of a Ghia any day and I will give you back your Audi...


  1. I've left an award for you at my blog.

  2. Thank you, Elise. That was so nice of you. :)