The second car had to go. The precarious buy of a TT when my wife got her new job a year ago now needed to be sold. It was a fun car to drive, but needs must. It went in the first week, which was great. Essential buffer funds were acquired.
Flights had been booked and the primary car was now arranged to be shipped out the week before we were due to leave, to be ready for pick-up the day after we arrived. In preparation, hire cars were booked for the last week in the UK, and for the first couple of days in Malaga to aid transition. Very savvy indeed!
Dad volunteered to drive me to pick-up the car from the airport, on the morning before our own car was due pick-up. This meant we didn’t need to get a taxi, as our flights were stupidly early on the following Sunday, we were masters of our own destiny. Ideal. The pick-up was planned for 7.30, plenty of time, breakfast on the way was a must. This just happened to coincide with Manchester schools going back and M6 road works. Covid traffic has made us overconfident, rush hour just didn’t exist anymore. We rocked up at the hire car place at 10.30 – I had originally planned to be home and at my desk by 9!
I got to the rental desk for my prepaid hire car, passport and driving license handed over. My crisp fresh blue passport (what a victory for Britain), the clerk gave me an approving glance then reviewed my license ‘Is your address on your driving licence your current address?’ ‘sorry, no it isn’t actually’ I laugh in dismay. I’d simply kept it as my parents address, to avoid the admin during house moves. I had foreseen this but as a measure for Spain, not here. It’s worse as my parents no longer live at this address, and has been the case for 4 years! A panicked update was applied for the week prior… ‘erm, I’m sorry Sir, we can’t hire our to you if it’s not correct.’ Oh. I look at him to see whether it can be ignored, an honest mistake. ‘No, sir’.
A glimmer of hope was that other companies didn’t care. I wander from rental place to rental place, they could see me coming. ‘certainly sir, we have one car remaining. £500 for 5 days.’ Blimey. However, hope still remained. The last company offered a car, seemed decent compared to the last place. They just needed my national insurance details… oh shit. What was that again? Do you know yours off my heart? I bloody don’t… I ring my Dad, he picks me up, we go home. What a waste of time.
I arrive home to find a brown envelope. My new driving license had arrived. Fantastic…
Tomorrow, the nitty gritty of getting to Spain… present day I sit with a praying mantis to my right, a tom cat the my left and glass of Rioja to the centre. Spanish living, can’t beat it.