Ode to the Midnight Rambler

The Midnight Rambler, my midnight blue 1989 Honda Prelude, has gone.

It was sold today, sacrificed on the altar of the OE, after 18 months of putting up with my driving. It went to the McDonalds car park at Auckland Airport, to pick up Lauren. It went to Rangariri, with its graveyard, its pa and its pub. The harbours of Port Waikato, Raglan and Kawhia. Opotiki, and all around the bays of the East Cape. To a hotel in New Plymouth. To a home in Wellington. Palmerston North, the Ashurst Domain, the Wanganui River, Castle Point, Cape Palliser, Makara.

It was the first car I ever owned, quick, comfortable, good on corners. The headlights popped up, and the roof opened. What more could you want?

Of course, the tape player was dodgy, the radio was worse and the CD player didn’t work at all. The steering rack needed fixing, the clutch hose went, as did the power steering fluid hose, the brake pads, and the clutch itself. If sports cars were rockers, it would have been Paul McCartney – decaying, with its best years long behind it. But I still thought it was cool.

I got $580 for the Midnight Rambler, only a fraction of the money I put into it to keep it running. But it was worth every cent.

Long may you run.