Around the Bend: Beans

"What about in winter? It'll be too cold for you."

"I'll survive."

"If you got off your chuff and found a job, you could afford to run a car!" said Mum.

"Why are you selling the car?" I asked.

"It's costing me too much," said Dad. "Petrol, license, registration, maintenance . . . and it needs new tires. It's just a money-sucking mechanical leech!"

He called me a money-sucking leech too, sometimes. I didn't know what to think. Maybe he would get rid of me, too?

"Can I have a ride in it before you sell it, please, Dad?"

"OK," he said. "You can come with me to the car yard. We'll walk back."

So that was that. I ran to my bedroom and grabbed my tattered blue jacket, my best one. Then Dad and I jumped into the car and we backed out onto the road.

"She's been a faithful old thing," said Dad a bit sadly. "I'll miss her."

"Yeah," I agreed.

We pulled up at the car yard and looked at all the flashy new cars. Our car looked grubby beside them. Dad went in and talked to one of the men, who came out and inspected our car. He checked the wheels, looked under the bonnet, sat behind the wheel, started it up, drove round the block, tested the breaks and got out.

"I'll give you $100?" he said.

"A hundred dollars!" said Dad and me together.

"Look, I'll make it $150, but that's as high as I can go," said the man. He was wearing a suit worth more than that! His shoes were more expensive than our car. Even his cufflinks probably cost more!

"You won't get a better deal anywhere else," said the man. "This car needs a lot of repair. The tires are shot. The windscreen is cracked. There's paint peeling off round the sides ... to get her saleable we'll have to put in at least a grand."

"A hundred and fifty," said Dad. "It's not enough. I was hoping for more than that."