Waiting for the big moment

It's a strange sensation, the anticipation of a big occasion. In this case, the moment when I open Fiona's door for the last time and very carefully drive her to Eastbourne for the trade-in, then go through a process at the sales desk that will put Sophie's keys in my hand. 

I'm reminded of getting married. The loss of one state in exchange for another, a hopeful leap into the dark, with the long-term outcome shrouded in mystery. And too late to back out. Ah, but then I don't want to back out of having a nice new car that will enable so many things. 

Or perhaps one's arrival at a hospital for a necessary and life-enhancing operation - all consent forms signed, but the procedure still lying ahead, with the outcome likely to be good but not guaranteed to be a complete success. But then I'm not personally affected, and the prevailing emotion is growing excitement, not suppressed fear.

I've been trying to imagine how it will be, driving Sophie around Sussex for hours on a route that will put her through her paces and bond us together. The R-Design means sportier handling: what does that actually entail? I'm hoping it means that I shall have noticeably more control on the road, and will consequently feel safer. Well, I'll soon find out. The insurance quote from LV is some 50% higher than Fiona's - clearly they reckon there's more risk, if the driver is inclined to recklessness. But I don't intend to drive like an unleashed maniac. I want to be gentle with my new car, especially when towing, so that she doesn't wear out as rapidly as Fiona did.

As I write this, I know that the finance is in place, and that all the other things needed for the handover are ready. I'm just waiting to hear whether it's going to be tomorrow or the day after. 

But I've already booked six nights away in early December. I want to visit my niece and two old friends in South Wales, all of whom were saddened when Fiona's gearbox troubles made me cancel my autumn holiday bookings with the Club. But now Sophie will get me there. 

Harrison, the nice young man who has been dealing with me at Caffyns Volvo Eastbourne, and efficiently too, will phone when all is ready at his end. There's no point in badgering him today. But waiting for that phone call or email is hard to endure!

LATER, SAME DAY

I've just learned that handover will almost certainly be Friday 27th October. A day and a half ahead. 

Hmm. What shall I do tomorrow? I dare not go anywhere in Fiona, who must be kept off the road (and out of danger) until I'm summoned to Eastbourne. A trip to London by train suggests itself. I haven't been to the Tate Modern for ten years: I could remedy that.

FIRST THING, NEXT DAY

Aha. Harrison has emailed. He has pencilled in 1.00pm on Friday 27th October for the handover, and will keep in touch. Meanwhile I am to arrange insurance accordingly, and send a copy of the insurance certificate or cover note. Indeed I will!