My original blog was Hoses of the Holy (ca. 2003), which ended up being abandoned in the dark days of 2007. I started this one in 2011. Scroll down for the archives!

I’ll confess I’ve succumbed to a little bit of superstition over the past few days. APOLOGIES THIS IS A BORING POST ABOUT CARS. Or is it?

It all started when I ordered a brand-new second-hand car from Cinch. My OH had previously ordered a car from Cazoo, a process that went quite well, touch wood, white rabbit. I’m actually an old hand at buying cars online: I bought a VW Bora on some scheme run by Sainsbury’s, back in the early 2000s. I’d much rather buy over the internet than from a person in a shiny suit. So I had little trepidation about an online purchase, and once I’d worked myself up to it, I pulled the trigger with no qualms.

A delivery slot was booked, and I emptied the detritus out of my current car in preparation for handover. I didn’t go ahead and tax and insure it, however. I thought it would be better to wait until the bird was in the hand, as it were. But then I got a courtesy call from Cinch and they recommended sorting out the VED prior to handover. So I logged into the DVLA and sorted that out.

Then I made the mistake of tweeting that I was about to take delivery of my thirteenth Volkswagen in 39 years.

Thirteenth.

Touch wood, cross fingers, white rabbit white rabbit.

I am not remotely superstitious. But I did mention, on the courtesy call from Cinch, that I hadn’t taxed and insured the car because I didn’t want to jinx it. Felt faintly ridiculous when I said it out loud, which was why I somewhat shamefacedly logged into the DVLA.

On the morning it was due to be delivered, I got a text to say that it would soon be on its way. There then followed a series of phone calls, apologising for a delay. There was a warning light on the dashboard. There was an electrical fault. The vehicle would have to go to a garage for repair. It was a non-runner. Dead parrot.

It didn’t look good, going into the bank holiday weekend, so last Saturday I phoned to cancel. To be fair to Cinch, they were absolutely great, refunded the deposit, unravelled the finance, would use again.

It was all a bit of a shame, because on paper, it really did look like exactly the car I wanted.

The question is, does the alternative, not-quite-as-perfect car I just ordered count as the fourteenth, or is it still the thirteenth Volkswagen I’ve bought in 39 years?

Fingers crossed.

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