Mona, partner of Meika the Dolebludger, has had her 21 year old Subaru (named Henka) stolen and burned. I’m envious. I’ve got a 20 year old Mazda 323 hatchback that’s fairly generously insured. Despite frequently parking it around town with windows carelessly left open, Darwin’s car thieves have stubbornly refused to steal it. It seems they have higher aspirations.
Truth be known, I’m actually quite attached to the old Mazda. Even though it looks like a wreck, it’s utterly reliable and (until recently) amazingly cheap to run. Even its beaten-up appearance is a plus: I don’t need to feel the slightest compunction about damaging the paintwork or upholstery by tying huge pieces of furniture to the roof or cramming garden rubbish or Jenny’s lawn sale loot inside. Nevertheless, the Mazda’s been costing more money over the last year or so, as 20 year old parts begin to simply wear out. Sadly, it’s time it was consigned to the wrecker’s yard. What’s Mona’s secret, I wonder?
With the possible exception of a Coalition controlled Senate, nothing would upset me more than to return to my flat in Mt Lawley, Western Australia (I’m in the book) after work to find my dilapidated 1970 P5B Rover Saloon no longer in its (open) car port.
The insurance pay out would not even come close to assuaging the grief, I would feel.
It’s better that you donate it to the wreckers than have it burned — if only so that the supply of 20yo Mazda parts increases, their price falls, and others can afford to enjoy their old bombs for a few months longer.
Still got my 22 year old Ford Laser, hoping it will be with me for sometime. It sure was better than the other second-hand vehicles that where in the Trading Post. I remember encountering some pretty dodgy vehicles. However, the one that would have to take the cake was an old Mazda 626 with license plates KOK (this most have been Dick Diggler’s old vehicle). I got in the car, started the engine, when the car started moving it didn’t sound very healthy from the outset. I looked up at the dashboard, where the dial on the speedometer instead of motioning kpm was rapidly circumnavigating the midpoint, like a compass rendered ineffective by a magnet. The car-lights had a mind of their own, and on the occasion of going over the slightest bump, would arbitrarily be triggered on and off. Mind you my sister had I worse experience, almost surrending a deposit to a vehicle that had likely been rebirthed by a Lebanese crime syndicate.
Ken,
While I appreciate that you are mainly using meika’s (and family’s) misfortune as a jumping-off point for your own story, you seem to be sending some strange messages.
As the comment’s box to meika’s post makes clear (but is pretty obvious from the lack of insurance-payola-gloating in the post itself), meika’s partner’s car was *not* insured.
As to how you can get a shitbox old (insured) car conveniently stolen and torched, I again suggest you read meika’s post – living down the road from white trash criminals can be a great help here. I therefore suggest you and your family decamp from swish Fannie Bay for Palmerston.
You never get enough for it, either – as I understand the scandal of insuring cheap cars. Some scumbag in a 4×4 rear ends a student’s ancient car, and the payout doesn’t buy a new car so the student gets a major lifestyle crimp.
Then again, I am sure jaguar owners have stories about being rear ended by seventeen hippies in a volkswagen kombie with no property insurance and how their no-claim bonus got totalled..
The other thing about Miekle’s story is the communal violence angle. He is implying he is being persecuted by a violent family. That is a very bad feeling, particularly with a small child in his nest. There are some good things to be said for membership of those few remaining trade unions with physically ginormous activists and a penchant for direct action..
persecuted is too strong a word, that word would imply they had some aforethought, which they don’t, they are simply teenagers looking for action, which happens to be us as we are closeby, like the trees their siblings whack with sticks when they walk along the road, but they do not notice the trees, they probably don;’t even know they are trees..
they are incapable of thought, rational or otherwise, its a pity we cannot afford an army like the US, at least they have somewhere to put all their trailer trash, off away in Iraq where hoepfully quite a few might die, pity that their tech is so powerful even their idjiots win easily
what to do? what to do?
send ’em all back to Engerland
you’ll notice i am not a relativist soft touch at the moment…
Ken just drive it down south to our carpark, of course by that time the patterns of the local morons will have move on to fresh fields
I really want to send ’em to england, Blackpool in particular, they do not deserve the mountain we live beneath
completely wasted on them
I lived in Alice Springs 20+ years ago, and we had a perfectly serviceable HK.
I thought I’d insure for “3rd party, fire and theft”, the usual combo down south.
The insurance co told me that in NT you can only get “3rd party and fire”; no theft. So that’s what I got.
I had a break-in outside the Memo, but thanks to the steering wheel lock, it wasn’t pinched.
Then just before Christmas it was nicked from the yard (no carport!). I had omitted to put the lock on. Never saw it again. No insurance pay out.
If Palmerston doesn’t work, drive down to Alice and try your luck.