Why not? Because Alex says I will get $300 for the car based on the info and photo I have provided. Ali shows up late, rude, ask me to pop the hood, says there’s no turbo in it, and will only pay me $200 for it, and take it or leave it. I tried to negotiate for $250, he dagger stares me, I caved. He attempts to write my details down on the receipt book, both earphones still in his ears, proceeds to hear every alphabets incorrectly. Why does he expect me to have a screwdriver to remove the license plate? He is the one who comes and remove my car and return my license plate to me, why does he expect me to do the work when he is already ripping me off? Why does he piss on me when the guy who owns the place that I parked my car in front of, offers a screwdriver? “YOU SAY YOU DON’T HAVE A SCREWDRIVER!”, says Ali. “It’s not my fucking shop”, except I am too refined to mention the F word. There, the ill feeling is done, embedded. He drove my old car off, it rumbles, as if it has got 500hp under the hood. I got into my new old car, and drove past him as he load my old car onto his truck. There, I realized, he has not given me my copy of the receipt. Seriously, how do Auto Removals stay in business all this year with such poor service? I felt bad now that I did not send my old car to a proper death. It’s like the undertaker who simply dump your dead grandpa into a hole into the ground, spat his chewed up tobacco into it for extra fermentation, without reading a single word from the bible, hop onto the bulldozer and push dirt onto the body, and proceed to drive away on top and over the so called grave.

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So, there, the car when it arrived in 2011. And having took it for some really long touring drive, it finally succumbs to engine trouble. It happened one day, when I started the car, and I sensed a different rumble from the engine, it don’t feel quite right that I took it to the mechanic right away, and was then advised to get another car quickly as this one will give anytime.

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How does it feel like to be driving around Christchurch with a car that sounds like it has got 500hp under the hood? Road rage, I tell you, road rage. Someone did a close contact overtaking and almost side swipe me. Others tailgate me. Some tried to show me their car can go faster than my 500hp car. It’s not just the guys. And all along, I was driving my car as gentle as I can, obeying the speed limit, and tried not to get pulled over by the cops for noise pollution. Talk about small dick syndrome.

Life in the countryside is much better. There are, of course less cars about. And the neighbours are really friendly even though they are really far away. So far away that if you look over the fence, they are just an indistinguishable speck in the background. The occasional herd of cows or mob of sheep blocks the road, telling you to slow down and smell the lovely aroma of the countryside moving past your car.

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Back in the garden, when there is nothing much to do, and procrastinating is at the top of the priority list. One can walk around like the CEO, inspecting every inch of dirt for seedlings popping out of the ground. And be delighted to spot that things are growing, even when he plant them at a time when everyone else tells him nothing is going to grow, and it will not be worth his time.

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Carrots too! Then the naysayers will tell him he will not be able to get a crop at this time of the year. “Watch me,” he says quietly.

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The Lemon Meyer is finally putting up a nice, suitably size, TAG1 hybrid lemon for harvesting. The color has progressed beyond the normal light lemon to a more intense yellow, will it turn orange?

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Then, there’s the flowers, pansies and calendulas just going for it. I truly enjoy their company, pansies, no matter how small the flowers, how silly the name. Cute little things, the more you look at them, the more you want to look at them, and just can’t figure them out. Then there’s the calendulas, the intensity of the orange is just dashing, that determination to be as orange as it can be, that it shines, and glows, like the morning sun. Truly inspiring.

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Roses too! I got some Blue Moon roses. The bluest of them all. If anyone is to be able to come up with a true blue rose, they will be a multi-millionaire. GMO free of course. Anyway, the Blue Moon variety is more lilac than blue. Planted 2 under the Farmside satellite dish, and another beside the fence at the t-junction of the property in the company of 3 Lydia and 3 Summer Breeze roses. Now, I just have to make sure I kill enough possums that there’s not enough to do the damage. Sounds like I will need 2 possums jabber.

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Do you believe in karma? Recently, I felt that karma is being dished out, quite justly, and timely. People who owe me, are being served, and sometimes, they end up paying an interest on top of what they owed me. I tried not to hunt them down, I am quite relax about it, because I know that as long as I put it out there, the universe is going to collect for me. It’s one of those days when I truly felt like a Lannister.

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Take this First Book Store for example, I bought a book on cherry culture from them a couple of months ago, and they shipped me the book, all the way from India, with the correct hardcover, but the content on allium culture. I want a book on cherry, not garlic, and of course, not a counterfeit book gone wrong. I asked them for a refund, they refused at first, but I shipped the book back to India anyway, cost me a bomb. A couple of months later, someone there accidentally authorized the refund, they quickly dropped me an email and ask me to cancel it and offer to send me a new copy. Thanks but no thanks, I’ve already got a genuine copy from another seller. Today, which is a few more months later, the mail lady came up the drive, told me I’ve got a return, and that it has gone to India and back. Somehow, Rak College of Nursing claims that no such thing exist over there… I guess I will be reading up about garlic, onions, and shallots this Winter.

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