From Spirit With Love – Part 10

Nanny The Lada

There were two newspapers on the kitchen table in front of me as I sat drowning my sorrows in a large mug of tea. I had read both of them and felt thoroughly fed up with myself.

Now that I was out and about with my Spirit work the problem of transport had become just that, and not only that, my house was for sale and I could neither find a buyer or the type of house that was suitable for what was needed..

I had fallen in love with one house that had plenty of space, peace and quiet, with a room for my private sittings and fields at the rear but it was in a small rural village without even a shop so I would need to drive and buy a car.

With a lot of support from family and friends driving me everywhere I needed to go, there were bookings that I had declined because I felt guilty about continuously  asking for help, and I had a feeling that I was going to get even busier. With fifty church bookings in my diary that year it was time for me to re-start to learn to drive.

Double Dilemma

The whole prospect of it seemed rather daunting. Having had lessons on and off over the years I just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. I found it difficult being watched over by an instructor, and they always seemed to shout at me for doing something silly. I have never been technically literate!

My other reason for feeling sorry for myself was because, having just looked in the papers, I realised that I really couldn’t afford a car at the time even if I passed my test. I began to realise that this could be a stumbling block in my Spirit work.

‘Oh well’ I sighed, rinsing my mug at the sink, ‘It’s no good fretting about what can’t be’ I realise that I should have been grateful for what I already had, but in those days I had yet to learn to see things differently by humility.

The phone rang after lunch. It was Martha.

‘Donna, are you still looking to buy a car?’  That was a bit odd.

‘Well I was until I saw how much they cost’  Martha’s’ chirpy voice bounced back, and the conversation went something like this.

‘My son is selling his, it’s taxed with MOT and it needs a clean up but it’s a good little car’ My interest was piqued.

‘That sounds good Martha – How much is he asking for it?’

‘One hundred and fifty pounds’

‘How much?” My eyes widened in surprise.

Martha repeated the price.

‘Does it work?’ Martha shrieked with laughter ‘Of course it does, in fact it’s only got 27,000 miles on the clock’

‘What make is it?’ I asked.

‘It’s a Lada’

Suddenly, one hundred and fifty jokes went through my head.

Love at First Sight

Later that afternoon Martha and myself were walking up the length of her sons driveway. He wasn’t home but we had the keys to the car, and then I saw it’s pale green bodywork under a layer of dust and cobwebs, looking rather sorry and unwanted. The word “celebration” stood out to me in small, orange letters on the side of each front door. Well that was a good omen for starters!

It was love at first sight and Lada or not, we were joined the heartstrings. ‘It’ wasn’t an ‘it’ anymore, ‘it’ was a ‘she’…….. and there was just something about her.

With a little bit of polish and elbow grease ‘Nanny’ looked magnificent (Martha’s son had named her that because she always looked after him, and it suited her) I decided that regardless of what people said about Ladas at the time, if they wouldn’t accept a great little car for the price I paid for her, then the joke was on them!

I knew that Nanny was a gift from Spirit and I had found in the past that they usually gave me a helping hand when I really needed something. A Rolls Royce Nanny was not, and I had to do more work on her, but as Takana had promised me, I would have no more than I needed and no less. However that was not all, she needed to be insured and having just paid for her, I really was getting a little short of money. I need not have worried though. When I found the appropriate insurance company, the operator couldn’t set up my direct debit instruction because the computers were down so she asked if I would mind making two payments next month and be covered from that day.

The final task was to find the right driving instructor and one in particular had been recommended to me, but she didn’t have a vacancy for another month. Perfect!

My new instructor was lovely and I quickly realised that my previous driving problems were from previous instructors. I was fine with Sally and I passed my theory test first time.

There was still a lot of frustration in trying to sell the house though. Living on a busy street I wondered if that was putting people off  but the estate agent seemed to think that some people liked to be ‘central to all amenities’

Another factor was that the lovely house in the rural village was still for sale and I felt sure that it would be sold. The waiting was dreadful and every week I checked with the estate agents to see if it had been sold.

After just three months, the day had arrived for my driving test and I was in quite a state. Having failed my mock test fabulously earlier that week, the examiner didn’t feel that I was ready to take my formal test. Sally remained positive and had done everything possible to re – settle my nerves.

At four o’clock in the morning I lay talking to ‘upstairs’ putting in a light hearted order for perfect weather, a nice examiner, and a good test route.

The Perfect Weather

Later that morning my pre – test lesson was not good. I pulled out in front of a lorry and completely forgot how to reverse around a corner. By the time I arrived at the Test Centre I was close to an emotional wreck but oddly enough, although it was late October, the weather was perfect.

The tall, smart, grey haired man in a suit beamed at me and shook my hand.

‘I’m Frank your examiner, can I call you Donna?’ I knew then that I was going to be just fine.

Back at the test centre having had a good test route, Frank was sporting a bright red lipstick mark on his cheek as I clutched my pass certificate like there was no tomorrow and that afternoon our house was sold.

It had been a good day.     

Next time: The Young Ones.

Donna Stewart Copyright 2018