The Red Sports Car When it’s time for a change

Monica’s retirement had stalled in a rut. A jump start and new horizons were what she needed…

Eyes the shape and colour of sherbet lemons stared down at Monica as she lay sleeping under the duvet.

She opened her eyes slowly, waking from a pleasant dream to come face to face with her large tabby cat, Queenie, sitting on her pillow. She turned her head into the pillow. “Go away,” she murmured. But this was a cat who was hungry and wanted to be fed. She began to nudge her soft face up against Monica’s cheek. “OK.” She sighed. “I’m getting up.” Throwing back the duvet, she sent Queenie and the book she’d been reading the night before flying off the bed.

Downstairs, Monica switched on the kettle, popped a slice of bread into the toaster and fed Queenie, watching with interest as the cat fell easily into her daily routine.

Once she had been fed, she would nip out through the catflap and then return to curl up on her favourite chair beside the radiator.

Monica began to wonder whether her own life had become one of doing the same thing, day in, day out. Surely not? But when she thought about it, it was true – she had created a routine exactly like Queenie’s.

She had approached retirement with enthusiasm and vigour, excited to do all the things she hadn’t had time for when she was working. In the early days, she had enjoyed wandering around the shops in a leisurely manner. But the novelty had worn off.

The reality was, she was bored. Her retirement days appeared before her, long and drawn out.

“I’m stuck in a rut,” she told Queenie.

What she needed was an adventure, like the one she had been reading about in her book WalkingInTheAndes.

She knew she didn’t really have the courage to do something like that, even though she had the time. But what she did know was that things had to change.

After breakfast, she got into her old, battered banger and set off for her stint at the local charity shop. The ancient vehicle made clanking noises all the way, until it finally gave up and died by the side of the road.

There was a car dealership across the way. Desperate for help, Monica timidly made her way through the huge glass doors – and was confronted by the sight of a magnificent red vintage sports car on a circular plinth, rotating slowly.

Overhead lights illuminated the freshly polished chrome fittings. Enticing cream leather upholstery promised the owner a drive of luxury and comfort. Was it a sign? Had her old car stopped here on purpose?

Sign or no sign, Monica immediately fell in love with it. The price, the practicalities of owning a sports car, ceased to be important.

She had known for some time that she would have to replace her old car. So why not replace it with this one?

Why not REPLACE her broken down old car with THIS ONE? she reasoned

Afew days later, her bank balance a little lighter from her impulsive purchase, she drove out of the showroom in her new, red sports car.

She really needed to get home in time to feed Queenie. But as she swung out into the road, something came over her and instead she found herself speeding off towards the coastline.

The wind whipped at her hair and made her eyes water as she took the coast road, but any discomfort was soon overtaken by a feeling of daring and vigour. She felt free, energised and young again. Thoughts of home were soon forgotten.

A harsh, salty sea breeze blew into her face as she zig-zagged down the winding track towards the beach, towards the car park and cafe at the bottom. At this time of year, the car park would normally have been empty – but today it was tightly packed with an array of classic cars.

Monica managed to park between two of them. Feeling hungry and cold, she was about to make her way towards the cafe when she heard a husky voice address her. “I see you have a Roadster.” Turning, she found herself face to face with a pleasant-looking man probably around her age. “Oh yes, I’ve just bought it today.” “It’s in wonderful condition,” he said, looking at the car and then at her with interest. He opened the door, pausing to ask her permission to sit in the driving seat. She nodded approvingly.

A large smile crossed his weathered face as he moved his hands around the leather-covered steering wheel.

“Sorry,” he said. “Here I am, a complete stranger, sitting in your car and I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Charlie. I organise and run this little group for owners of classic cars.” Monica smiled. “I’m glad you like the car,” she said. “As I mentioned, I only bought it today, so I don’t know anything about it – or its history.”

Charlie proceeded to inform her of all of the Roadster’s features and qualities, including its age.

“Gosh,” she exclaimed. “It’s nearly as old as I am!”

“It was a good year,” he said, a cheeky smile on his lips.”You’d qualify to join our club with your little beauty.” He looked deep into her eyes. Monica looked at him and then at her watch, just as her stomach rumbled. It was teatime. Queenie was probably looking at her empty dish wondering where her food was. She felt guilty; she should be at home, not here standing in a car park with a complete stranger.

Instinctively she slapped the sides of her arms to warm herself up.

“Looks like you need a cup of tea,” Charlie said, nodding towards the café. “Let me introduce you to the other members. They’re inside.”

The café was warm and inviting and there was an energetic buzz of conversation. They appeared to be a friendly bunch, and she noticed their thick jackets piled high on a chair as Charlie went off to the counter to fetch tea. Monica started to feel underdressed with her lightweight jacket, but then she had taken off on a whim, with the top down.

“One of the drawbacks of owning a classic car,” said one of the men. “The heating can be a bit hit-and-miss so you have to dress appropriately.”

“Are you thinking of joining us?” a woman asked. Monica nodded.

“You’ll soon get to know us. We’re around here a lot at this time of year.”

“We usually drive further in the warmer weather,” one chap piped up, “and we take our cars abroad in the summer.” Monica thought back to the book she’d been reading. They probably weren’t planning on travelling to the Andes – but trips abroad sounded like an adventure to her.

Charlie soon returned with a cup of tea and a teacake.

“Get this down you,” he said. “It will keep you going until you get home.” She felt better once she had eaten and warmed her hands on the cup.

“We’re planning on going further along this coast next Saturday. How do you feel about joining us?” Charlie asked, his smile deepening as he looked at her. There was a warmth to him that lifted her spirits. “You’ll need to get yourself some decent clothing if you do come along,” he added jokingly, looking at her thin jacket.

Her cheeks reddened as she felt the others look at her. She had always dismissed the notion of ever finding a partner at her time of life. Yet here she was talking with a man who was clearly interested in her.

“I’d like you to come,” Charlie went on, holding her gaze for a second, willing her to say yes. “We usually stop off for tea somewhere, to refuel the cars – and ourselves,” he said, laughing.

“We’re PLANNING on going FURTHER along the COAST next week…”

What an interesting afternoon it had been, Monica thought on her way home, once more feeling guilty at having left Queenie without food.

As she drove along the road towards home, she made plans in her head. She would have to buy a padded jacket and woolly hat for when she had the car’s top down.

However, top of her list was the most important item. An automatic cat feeder with a timer. From now on, Queenie would have to look after herself, because Monica needed to be free for whatever lay ahead…