A Carmudgeon’s Christmas

Ahh Christmas, the annual spend-fest that starts sooner each year.  You know it’s time to start preparing when the stores, around September, dust off their Christmas hits CD and put it on shuffle - ad infinitum - for the remainder of the year.  

The main clue is when you see a small corner of a department store anonymously stocked with cards, tinselled decorations and crappy gifts starting to spread like seasonal flu until, by the end of October, it’s infected the whole place. From then on there’s really no escape. 

Christmas is as inevitable as death and taxes and for curmudgeons like me, just as enjoyable.  Perhaps I’m being uncharitable, demeaning one of the few times of the year where families get together to exchange gifts, stuff their faces and quaff cheap sparkling wine before slumping, taut and tipsy, in front of the TV to watch Doctor Who.

All this is to celebrate the arrival of the mythical man known as Santa who, apparently, spreads joy and generosity throughout the world – what a guy. 

For me it’s slightly worse because my birthday is on Christmas Eve which, given its proximity to the 25^th, means my festive day is when all the last minute running around gets done and pretty much puts paid to me feeling just a little bit special. Bah, humbug.

At the risk of dragging you all into my indifference to this annual annoyance, you might look at it this way: funds spent on Christmas are those you could have alternatively lavished on your precious motor that I think in the long run might bring you more joy.

Are you still in the mood?  If so, I thought I’d list some of the probable and unwelcome stocking fillers you might receive as a classic car owner just to drive [sic] my message home.

#1 A necktie with a car on it. Not your classic car of course. No, some generic other car. To obtain the former might need some extra effort and let’s face it to the casual gift giver classic cars are all the same aren’t they? To save on blog space the same objection can apply to socks, gloves, scarves, T-shirts, underpants and bathrobes.

Well, it does have British Racing Green...

#2 A classic car calendar. Your car might be included in the twelve chosen depending how mainstream your chosen vehicle is.  But remember this: you’ll only enjoy looking at it for one month and the rest of the year you’ll have to look at other peoples’ cars and, of course, be doomed to count down to next Christmas.

#3 A winter car care kit. A nylon sponge, some cheap car wash, an ice scraper and some caustic looking deicer all in a festive poly bag. This was bought totally irrespective of the fact that your classic is probably tucked away in a cosy garage cosseted from the rigours of winter until the coming Spring. ‘You could use it on your daily driver’ you might protest! Really, you’d use such tat to ‘care’ for your everyday motor?

You shouldn't have!

#4  A coffee table book of classic cars.  What would we do without remaindered bookstores, the happy haven of the lazy gift buyer?  You will probably flick through this glossy tome a few times before New Year and maybe even read a page or two. You might even find your own car featured but it’s about as likely you’ll discover one fact or comment you don’t already know as finding Rudolph droppings. Soon it’ll be good for one thing: putting your coffee cup on until it has more rings than the Olympic flag then off to the charity shop it goes.

#5  A car jigsaw. About as much fun as changing a wheel in the pouring rain. Time spent on one of these anachronisms could be time spent overhauling your carburetor which, thinking about it, might be a more fun way to spend the 25^th of December.

#6 A mug, decorative plate or porcelain ornament. Yes with an old car on it. Give us strength. Actually thinking about it; no!  Instead make us weak, give us the grip of a newborn so that soon after you’ve unwrapped it you hold the offending object up, faking admiration until suddenly it falls from your weakened hands.

All present can watch in slow motion as it falls to the floor and smashes into satisfying smithereens. You feign shock, upset, disappointment but most of all you implore the giver that it’s all your fault and you cannot in all conscience ask them to replace it. Immediately retire to the bathroom to laugh until you dampen your gusset.

Is that a VW Beetle? (MG owner)

Finally, to ameliorate my rant and to add some much-needed festive cheer; in the spirit of worthwhile Christmas commercialism your nearest and dearest could buy you some club regalia from your preferred car society. Not only would this add nicely to the club’s funds you might actually be happy to receive it!

So, to conclude, may I wish everyone a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year and hopefully Santa will not curse you with anything that you’d immediately want to put onto eBay.