I hate walking.
I hate walking, but I can’t afford the price of petrol.
I hate walking but I am forced to push my car everywhere.
Sometimes people think that my car has broken down, and it does help to have others pushing too, but they seem surprised when we are going past a garage, and I, (If still awake in the car!) shouts “Not that one!”
I don’t mind a tow, as long as its free that is.
Such a mode of transport is ok for the two miles to work, but its a bugbear on holidays, and the misses and the kids insist on travelling by train, I can’t say I blame them, it sometimes takes three days to get to the caravan. (We always stay in a caravan because of my ingrowing finger-nails, and the fact, that with my fingers and an empty box of “Household” brand matches, I entertain kids with my own mini-Punch &Judy show on a Silloth beach). Three days, but as I said to the wife, “I can’t afford holidays AND petrol!”
It was a laugh when I pushed the car to the garage for the M.O.T. test. and it was given the all-clear…“Smashing engine mate, good as new!” and the examiner was amazed when I started to push the car home, and made the garage give me another test!
I don’t know why I learnt to drive, cos I have never driven since passing my test. Still, the experience comes in handy when I am pushing my car up the M5.