Thereâs something dangerously soothing about Facebook Marketplace. One minute you’re sipping tea, the next youâre elbows-deep in listings for cars that would bankrupt you, gadgets you couldnât explain to your accountant, and absolute weaponised nonsense like some gimp selling a mirror reflecting an image of legs that wouldn’t look out of place hanging out of a birds nest
Meanwhile, real life didnât so much creep in as crash through the ceiling. Christmas came and went, the weather did its best to turn Northern Ireland into Atlantis, and I said goodbye to my childhood homeâwhich hit harder than a pothole on 35-profile tyres.
In the spirit of distraction therapy, I sold my beloved F56 Mini Cooper S Diesel and swapped it for something with a bit more bark and boot space: a Mk7.5 Golf R Variant.
Back in the garage, solace came in three forms: Facebook, the DVLA cherished plate checker, and my own growing mountain of probably-useful car parts. First up: a stainless-steel Toyo Sports exhaust for sixty quid. I mean, at that price, it wouldâve been a moral failing not to buy it.
That little score turned into a double win when I delivered some spare MINI wheels to a fellow enthusiast trying to get his mate back on the road. I donated them in exchange for a charity donation to Dogs Trust. Doing good and making exhaust noise? Call me Paul O’Grady with a ratchet set.
Next on the â100% Necessary But Definitely Notâ list: a cherished number plate.
And thenâlike tartan wallpaper for your ceilingâI fitted a very questionable, yet increasingly lovable tartan-trimmed headliner to replace the saggy OEM beige cloud. Yes, it clashes with everything. No, I donât care anymore.
I think Iâm into it?
TBH the more I look at it, the more I like it. Even with the miss-matched plastics.
From the vaults of my old Corolla, a set of MG ZR Hairpins made an appearance. 16 inches of pure nostalgia wrapped in nearly-new tyresâpractically practical.
I also quietly replaced the power steering pump and its little cooling fan. No picturesâjust imagine lots of swearing, dropped bolts, and the sweet reward of working steering again.
And finally, the cherry on top: Sadie (thatâs the R53 for the uninitiated) passed her MOT and even made it to her first Mini meet in Antrim on the same day. Triumph!
Naturally, she rewarded me by dropping a cylinder on the way home. Spark plugs and a new coil pack are on their way from Mr Retro Leads, and Iâm cautiously optimistic.
More soonâhopefully less misfiring involved.
