The one that got away

To the one that will never be mine,

My dear Fairlady, I bet you get this a lot, but I was enchanted since the first time I laid my eyes upon you. What's not to love; your sleek sporty exterior, the orange and gold gleam that reminds me of my favourite sunset, your powerful 3.5L (3500cc) engine that would surely bring me joy on the road, and your cleverly-placed door handles... oh, and your very reasonable price tag which is totally the icing on the cake.    

The Boy almost secured you from Melbourne for me. Imagine my excitement when I first heard the news. I even read up all about you; heart pounding in my chest at the prospect of meeting you for the first time. My perfect little dream car. I was even slightly worried that you might not like it in Burnie. Afterall, a rural village is no place for a stunner like you. But baby, I know for one that you'll surely love the five hour drive to Hobart on the weekends! 

I have loved you even before I met you. So you could imagine my disappointment when The Boy told me two days later that his friend in Melbourne got it all wrong, and that you are of manual transmission rather than automatic, as was described to us earlier. I was devastated. I know I should buck up and learn how to drive a manual car (again), but trust me darling, I have tried. I took The Boy's Peugeot for a spin that same afternoon, secretly wishing I would pick it up in no time and that you'll still be mine. But I sucked BIG TIME. Afterall, it had been months since I last driven, and never a manual car since obtaining my license. And when it comes to driving, I am not unlike a dancer with two left feet.  

I am so sorry for letting you go; know that I wanted more than anything to be your new owner. But I was not worthy, operating a clutch was so alien to me I would need at least months to familiarize myself with it, and I just don't have that time to learn before I hit the road with you. I could still go ahead but honestly we both know it would not do us both any good. And I will blame myself eternally if my lack of skills would much so scar your beauty. 

Maybe next time, my love. In the meantime, I guess I would have to settle for an automatic second best. 

So this is farewell, my golden goodness. I hope you'll be happier with your new owner (The Boy's friend, ahh that lucky bastard), and that he will treasure you as much as I would if you were ever mine. I pray that the concrete skyscrapers in Melbourne would compliment your beauty better than the vineyard and dirt roads down here, I hope that traffic jam will never find you, I hope you'll always find a parking spot wherever you go, and there'll be no drunkies hitting on your bonnet or dogs peeing on your wheels.  

You shall always be in my heart, oh the one that got away. =( 

   

With deepest regret,
Christine