Farewell Old Friend

I know you shouldn't feel sentimental about a piece of metal, but ...
Tyson, my wee Citroen and companion of many years, has departed to the Great Scrappie in the Sky (well, William Waugh's in Granton actually). I am bereaved.
Logic dictated that Tyson would have to go - getting on in years, a bit battered and bruised, niggling wee problems like a slipping clutch and a minor oil leak, a driver's door that couldn't close properly after losing a battle with a fierce gust of wind - I could go on but you get the picture.
It would have cost more than the car was worth to get it through another MOT, then there's the Road Tax, insurance, the cost of running it; it made sense to get rid of it, and yet ...
I loved that wee car. It was gutsy, reliable and handled the challenge of getting young Knutt through her driving test without complaint - hundreds of reverse turns round corners, dozens of 'turn in the road using forward and reverse gears' (I would have said three point turns, but you clearly haven't seen Knutt's driving).
Yes, the lack of power steering turned me into Charles Atlas, but every time you turned the key in the ignition - Tyson started, first time. Nothing flash - you could leave Tyson anywhere safe in the knowledge that no self respecting car thief would nick him, or no vandal would attack him as he looked fully vandalised already! You couldn't leave him for long in more affluent areas, though - the sight of Tyson parked in the street for long would have houses prices plummeting!
Tyson was a real wee diesel workhorse who never let you down - and even on that final journey he started first time, game to the end ...
I drive a Picasso now, and though it's far more comfortable - palatial compared to the cramped wee Citroen - it's got nothing of Tyson's personality; it's just a car.
So goodbye then,old chum - it was an honour to know you.