The Green Machine.

Great Scott!

My lovely Panther Black Fiesta Zetec has been sold from under me (the perils of being in car sales, everything is for sale, even my own company car) and I’d been offered a choice of two of the courtesy cars to run temporarily until they could source me a replacement. One a Fiesta 3 door in retina searing green (inexplicably labelled “Squeeze” in the brochure and at extra cost even over option metallic!), the other a very demur but very boring dark blue Fusion diesel. Of course I took the Fusion, it might be dull but at least it’s discreet.

However I quickly realised just how badly I’d underestimated its dullness. The most exciting feature is a front passenger seatback that folds forward flat to make a table. Why? Because the Fusion is the pensioners choice and so a picnic table is the ultimate accessory. Think of it as the James Bond ejector seat for the blue rinse brigade. I can see Q now, “Since you’ve retired 007 I’ve made a couple of rather special adjustments to your new company car”. “Really Q, another Aston Martin with an ejector seat”? “No 007, it’s a Fusion diesel and the passenger seat cunningly folds flat so you’ve somewhere to stand the thermos and sandwiches. Oh and under the dash I’ve replaced the Walther PPK holster with a place for you to store your Whethers Originals”.

The pensioners love the Fusion, its high stance aiding ingress and egress and square corners making it easy to park. But good grief it’s a dull steer, the addition of a diesel engine robbing it of the last bastion of any merit to the enthusiast. Within a week (a week during which I’d never before spent so much time with the right pedal flattened in a bid to make the thing go) I realised the error of my ways and quietly swapped it for The Green Machine, the Fiesta with a colour so vivid you need to apply Factor Twenty sun cream if you want to stand within a metre of it for any length of time.

What a contrast to the insipid Fusion though. A tiny 1.25 engine meant it probably was no faster, but the way it revs and the way it seems to run on tiptoes, darting into and out of corners like an excitable Jack Russel puppy, are a revelation after the leaden OAPmobile. Worth braving the colour choice for I decided, and at least the British winter ensured it was dark and wet and dirty most of the time.

Then, over the following weeks, something rather odd happened. I found myself actually not wincing as I spied it glowing quietly to itself and braved a dark glasses dash for the drivers seat in the morning. I started to mind it less and less. Then, bizarrely, I found myself actually glancing back at it as I walked away and almost nodding in approval. Shortly after that I spotted a freshly serviced and immaculately cleaned one rolling out of the service bay and I actually decided it looked good. I had a quiet word with the cleaning pixies and when I returned to it that evening they’d sprinkled their magic pixie dust over it and all the carefully cultivated winter grime I’d acquired had gone, leaving the thing resplendent and shining like a new born shiny thing.

And I liked it. I actually liked it. It’s different and it’s funky and it suits the sporty youthful look of the car (if not the decidedly unsporty and unyouthful look of the driver). In the few short weeks I’ve had it I’ve been converted.

So would I buy one that colour?

Good heavens no, but it’s a bit of fun and it’s brightening up an otherwise dull winter.

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2 Responses to “The Green Machine.”

  1. Phirefly Says:

    I love this blog

  2. Pat (MSE) Says:

    Hilarious, one of your best epistles yet.

    I like it too – I’d call the colour pistachio.

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