Talk Well of The Absent Whenever You Have The Opportunity

That Time I Got Way Too Attached To My Wing Mirror Spider

I am the proud owner of a classic 1999 Honda Accord.  The current market value of this car is £130 and it does not always start on the first attempt.

I have also bumped into several pillars whilst driving around implausibly small car parks so the red paintwork bears some battle scars.

Despite all this, I love my car.

And recently I had a fellow Honda enthusiast aboard. His name was Freddie. And he was my wing mirror spider.

Freddie was something of a beast and so I will admit that, initially, our friendship was born out of fear of removing his web and facing his wrath rather than enjoying his presence.  However, that was quickly rectified as I found he made my car journeys more enjoyable. 

There was never a dull car ride with Freddie on board - the first such adventure involved Freddie evicting my previous wing mirror spider in no uncertain terms after a battle to the death was acted out at the traffic lights.  Freddie was not a particularly graceful or merciful winner but it is life and death in the Honda ghetto.

Freddie travelled with me from the South coast all the way to Leicester and we became firm friends after I promised not to destroy his web if he could survive the journey. (I had hoped that travelling on the motorway at 70mph might have done my dirty work for me but alas, it was not to be.)

Freddie was made of harder stuff than I initially gave him credit for.

Not only did Freddie traverse the dangers of the M1 with me, he survived through the growing Autumnal chill, his web was broken after a particularly windy evening and he managed to swing on to the car door before quickly retreating to the safety of the wing mirror.  He became a travelling companion and it is only with a little embarrassment that I confess to talking to him during our rides to and from work.  He was a source of amusement as he started the journey clinging onto the wing mirror only to bravely scuttle out onto his web, suspended between wing mirror and car door, as we began to pick up speed.

More than once I shouted over the pulsating music as he bounced around in the delicate looking strands: "FREDDIE, YOU NUTTER!!"

Until, one fateful evening, I am sad to report that Freddie took one risk too many.

Travelling up the M3 after a particularly hellish day at work, I watched as Freddie's web flailed, the whole construction waving wildly in the breeze. When, suddenly, the web, and Freddie with it, were lost forever.

I remember blinking owlishly for several moments; convinced that Freddie would reappear on the car door.  Sadly, my wing mirror remained vacant and I realised that Freddie would not be returning this day or any other.  This had been his last ride.

Freddie, wherever you are, (spider Hell probably after your vicious attack on the previous tenant of my wing mirror), you are sorely missed.

#neverforget

&& Fin.