Diary of a Widower

Another death. Her car’s battery

SATURDAY, January 2 – After five minutes behind the wheel of the Mini Cooper, I concluded that the battery was well and truly dead. Her pride and joy, the kick-ass little car we brought with us from England.

Until the arrival of the yellow Mini, Jennifer had shown no interest in cars.  However, she did  have to confess that while careening along the winding, wind-blown roads of the English countryside, she had finally discovered just how much fun driving could be. We disposed of our British Volvo without so much as a backward glance while it was a foregone conclusion that when we moved to the Netherlands in 2008, the Mini would go with us.

I must admit that she looked quite enticing, almost sexy, when she was behind the wheel. For the past month and a half now, the car has been parked two streets over. Coincidentally, and thankfully, it’s not been in front of the house. That would have been too painful.

Just what I expected, indeed happened:  the car wouldn’t start. The battery was totally dead. I’d brought along a garbage bag, so I could empty out the car, but in the end I just left everything as it was. I’m going to have to make a decision. Keep it or sell it? She was so proud of that car and especially the fact that it was registered in her name.  It belonged to her.

A few weeks ago I received a letter, as is standard procedure these days, simply addressed to ‘The Estate of J.M. Nolan’.  It stated that an automobile may ‘not remain registered in the name of a deceased person for longer than five weeks’.

Fuck the bureaucrats, I thought to myself. They’ll damn well have to wait until the time is ripe.  In any case, it’s her car, and right now nothing can change that.