26 june 2018
All original writing
2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018 Ian McLauchlin
THE SAGA OF THE TOUCH-
What do you need to do if your car gets a stone chip? Stop the weather getting to the steel and causing it to rust, that's what. So when I change car I always get some matching touch-
"Ah, that's a new colour Sir." They always call me Sir, don't know why. "It might be difficult to get hold of. OK I'll order one, and pay for it. Am I too trusting? It's called 'Iced Coffee' in case you're interested. They'll probably start producing it soon. (Thinks -
Every few months I remembered that I still didn't have that touch-
Latest response: "Ah, they've changed the name of the colour, Sir. It isn't called 'Iced Coffee' any more."
But it's still the same colour? Get me some of that then.
"Sorry, we don't know what it's called." Surely you can find out, or do you want me to do your job, as well as paying for phone calls that you should be making, and wiping your nose?
Visited the Dealer a while later for another reason. "Oh, hello, Sir. You've just reminded me that I was going to chase that paint for you." (I have a diary at home. I write things in it that I need to do on the day I need to do them. It's not rocket science . . . )
A few more months slipped by and I was starting to scuff the tyres swerving to avoid flying stones. Other road users kept their distance, even though they were probably the proud owners of touch-
Would you believe it, it was time to take the car in for a service. I'd avoided stones for a Whole Year! I know, I'll phone up before the visit to remind them to get the paint in for me to collect. "Yes we can get that in for you, Sir." Still 'Sir' after a year of close familiarity. Started to get excited. Don't often get the chance. Lay awake the night before thinking of the joy of finally holding that touch-
Arrived at the Dealers on time, having to set off early so as to avoid any last minute stone chips on that day of all days. "Anything else we can do for you, Sir?" Where's your Parts Department?
"Could you tell me why you want to know, Sir?" (They call me Sir as they discern that I won’t be fobbed off. Well not after a year of being fobbed off.)
Well they said they would have the touch-
By this time I could feel the blood pumping through the veins, which I hoped weren't standing out on my forehead. After too long a time, she re-
Finally, even though they were reluctant to part with it, having cuddled it, fed it and generally cared for its welfare over many months, they delivered it into my shaking hands. Ecstatic, I enquired what it's new name was. "Cashmere Brown, Sir." Was it worth the name change I wondered idly. On the way out I bumped into the Sales Person who sold me the car. I've finally got it, I exclaimed! The touch-
Tell you what, says I, keep it for a year, then give it to 'em.