You never forget your first

I've just said goodbye to my first ever car, a blue (apparently "green") Citroën AX from 1995.

My parents bought it for me for �800 the week before I moved to England.

I packed all my worldly possessions into the back (completely full) and Mum and I drove all the way down to Rosslare, took the ferry, and then drove all the way to Cranleigh (wherever the hell that was, I thought, as I discovered the lack of road signs to places I need to get to in Surrey). April 2002.

My first car, for my first grown-up job.

I'll post a picture here soon, but it won't be how I remember it -- the headlights and taillights are all gone, the battery's been hoiked out, and the casing underneath the steering column has been pulled off. But I'll never forget beating Mr Bridger and all the others to the rendezvous point after CPG's stag do in Southampton. One of the old girl's finest moments (even if it did cost me the tailpipe of the exhaust).

That and the record 1h-45min return from Coventry!

That car shipped me and a lot of people around, and I'll always remember how chuffed I was at owning my first ever vehicle that I didn't have to share with anyone else. And it practically ran on air (okay — techincally diesel, but I only had to fill'er up once a fortnight — and less often still when I lived in Cranners!).

The diabolical roads around work eventually got the better of it, though, and I loaned it to the Aussie for his short daily commute until the tax ran out on it last Autumn.

Goodbye, first car of my life. I'll remember your scrapes, child-sized dent on the bonnet and ridiculously upright seats very very fondly.

The Plan B has some serious tyre tracks to fill.