’Don’t feel bad, I don’t drive anything particularly fancy either – I’ve had my little Fiat for years now. I guess you’d need something big like this for the winter out here. This is like a bloody tank compared to mine.’
‘I had a Fiat Punto years ago; I don’t even think they make that model anymore. What do you have?’
‘Fiat 500,’ she replied, peering suspiciously at the dashboard. ‘It’s an old model, but I love it. Parking’s dead easy, which is handy in the city centre. Why is there no ignition in this car? Where is the gearstick?’
He started to snicker. She liked the way his shoulders shook when he laughed, even if it appeared to be at her expense.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘How old exactly is your car? Just put your foot on the brake and push the button.’
‘Old enough to remember what keys are for,’ she replied. ‘This is far too confusing.’
Successfully starting the car, she took a moment to look over the controls. ‘Is all of this shit really necessary?’
With prompting from Aiden, Alex put the car into drive and tentatively pulled away.
‘I may have finally found your flaw. You’re a Fiat 500 girl.’
‘Oh God, not you too,’ she replied ‘Why are men like this? My ex takes the piss out of me for this too! It is a perfectly good car!’
While Pete did make fun of her for driving a Fiat 500, it was more (of course) about the safety aspect.
‘It’s an old car, Alex. Minimal safety equipment, average safety rating and well, up against a lorry on the M50, you wouldn’t stand a chance.’
‘So, that’s reassuring. Anything else?’
‘Aye, it looks shite.’
‘Good talk, Pete.’
‘I’m just surprised someone like you drives one, that’s all,’ Aiden continued. ‘I heard they were driven by twenty-somethings with too much fake tan, who watchLove Islandand have a Starbucks addiction.’
‘Where did you hear that?’
‘Twitter.’
‘Ah, Twitter. A credible source… and what exactly do you mean someone like me?’ she questioned. ‘You mean a thirty-something with no fake tan and an arse that takes up both front seats?’
‘Well, no…’
‘And what did you imagine I drove?’ she asked, fiddling with the aircon. ‘Some old lady car?’
‘No, just something bigger than a matchbox, and—’
‘You drive a Yaris! That’s a teeny wee car!’
‘—and, for the record, by someonelike you, I meant someone cool.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘Obviously I’m taking that compliment back now… My Yaris is not teeny. It can comfortably seat four and a half people.’
Alex laughed. ‘Sorry. I stand corrected.’
Leaving the winding backroads from Erin’s house, they reached the Ring of Kerry. In summer it was particularly beautiful with lush green trees, mountain views, interspersed by glimpses of the sea. However, given the narrow, snaking road, potholes, wildlife darting across and carefree hikers, their journey was a slow one. Alex didn’t mind; driving Erin’s car was proving more challenging than she had anticipated.
‘It’s like a bleedin’ rocket when you accelerate,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m hardly touching the pedal.’
