Sick Cars and Cappuccino

I get The Skip back from the garage tomorrow, after it has been made better after suffering from a nasty bout of MOTitis. Health care for cars is pricey, £700 to make it legal to drive again. Maybe we should have an NHS for cars. I can see it now, an old fashioned ward with 14 cars lined down each side, each with curtains to pull round to save those embarrassing moments when the 'doctor' wants to look under the bonnet, or examine the exhaust pipe. Mechanics in smart, starchy aprons could rush around with bedpans to collect the oil from leaks, and the tools could come laid out on stainless steel trolleys. The chief mechanic could call to a minion, 'spanner, size 10' (or whatever spanners are measured in) while delving around pulling at bits of gaiter, grommet or gasket with a serious expression, 'this could be expensive nurse'. Weeping owners could have therapy rooms to be told the bad news when the car is ready for (use a hushed tone here) the scrap yard.

No, I can't see it happening. I'll just have to go to the dingy old garage tomorrow and cough up (so to speak). At least I won't have to travel by public transport again for a while, although I'll miss being able to warm my hands on a large cappuccino while waiting for the bus.