I am the proud new owner of a 1950s BMW. It’s been in my family for three generations now. It was owned by my grandfather, then my father and now it’s mine, his first born daughter. My dad has an older sister who was bypassed as an option to be the BMW owner because my grandfather thought that only men should own such cars. My dad saw how this broke my aunt’s heart and he vowed that he would give the car to his first born child, no matter what gender they were. And here I am, his first born daughter and I’ve just inherited the car.
I promised my dad that I would take the best possible care of it. I’ve chosen a car mechanic that specialises in European vehicle services and I will get it serviced every three months. I figure that because I didn’t pay for the car, I can spend what I would have paid for it on servicing. That way I’ll hopefully be able to pass down the car to my oldest child in the future.
I’ve made an appointment with the car mechanic just so that he can have a look over my car. I want to make sure that he’s up to the task of looking after such an elite vehicle, which means having important discussions with him about it.
From what I can tell, he’s an upstanding mechanic. Around Frankston, there’s no shortage of mechanics, but sometimes I feel like you never know what you’re going to get, which is why I’m going to double check that my instincts about him are correct. Usually, I’m able to trust my gut, but this is more important than anything else in my life and so I want to make sure that he’s perfect.
I’m so excited to drive the car. I’m so glad that my dad decided to pass it onto me even though I’m a girl. I will be the perfect driver and perfect car owner, and I’ll do him proud.