“Where shall we go?” I asked him as the engine purred contentedly. “How about a run to Box Hill? We could stop in at Denbies?” I suggested. Adam growled, he likes to be consulted.
As we pulled away from the flats, Adam tooted the horn so I could wave at a passing acquaintance. I released my window and shouted, “It's such a beautiful day, we thought we'd go for a drive.” I know she heard me, but her smile was aimed directly at Adam.
On the High Street, we crawled along, held up by every set of traffic lights; at a snail's pace I noticed women throwing Adam admiring glances. I distracted him by asking him if he wanted the radio on or would he prefer some music. We tried a few stations, but decided to enjoy each other's company. I was relieved to get on to a more open road and away from those preying eyes.
Adam was glued to the smaller, winding 'country' roads, as he watched out for cyclists, ramblers, horses, and unruly motorists; the ones who expect to barge past regardless of the tight path. There were a few 'hairy' moments, but Adam drives well and takes utmost care if he has passengers. I sat back and enjoyed the tranquil effect he has on me.
When we turned onto the Zigzag, we relived moments from the Olympics as Adam shifted gears and worked hard to get us uphill. As we climbed, I encouraged him to “Think of Wiggins!” Groaning, he got us to the top where we stopped to take in the breathtaking scenery. He recovered in the sun while I milled around with day-trippers and borrowed a pair of binoculars. Imagine my surprise when I spied a group huddled about him! I zoomed in on some Japanese tourists taking snaps of him. They were capturing his features in different lights and from different angles; a gaggle of girls were covering their mouths with their hands and giggling. In my absence, Adam seemed to have taken to indiscreet modelling. I hastily handed the binoculars back, jabbered “Thanks” and marched in Adam's direction.
The crowd dispersed as I got there, but I threw daggers at the stragglers until they too departed. Alone with Adam, I glared at him, “What the hell is going on? Why are you attracting so much attention today?” I demanded, giving him a gentle whack and catching the wing-mirror. I flung open the door, got in and slammed it. Adam sulked and refused to respond, stalling twice which he blamed on my temper.
The drive to Denbies was awkward. I continued to fume whereas Adam lost his usual smoothness. He handled twists and turns clunkily and fogged his side of the windscreen. Both of us were very obviously angry. At Denbies we parked under a tree and parted company. Adam wanted time to cool-off and I wanted a pot of chamomile tea. I stalked off with my purse, leaving him to gaze wistfully after me.
When I returned, Adam was waiting for me. “Shall we make a move? You can drop me off at my flat.” I said tiredly.
The journey home was unremarkable, except Adam chose to bypass the Downs and instead went through Ashtead. I unbuckled my seatbelt as we drew up to the communal entrance and placed a comforting hand on the steering wheel.
“I think we both know this isn't working.” I said sadly. “It's you, not me. Your style is too urban and your personality is too magnetic for me.”
That was the end of Adam and me.
*Disclaimer: I do not own nor have I ever owned a Vauxhall Adam.
