Last year, I decided to take a sabbatical, and went to Hong Kong, in search of a big love that hasn’t worked out.  Out of everything that I did, I regret almost nothing.  I don’t regret that I followed a man half way across the globe to end up with only heartache.  Neither do I regret that I closed my company and said good bye to six years of hard earned success in the process.  Nor do I regret that I’m now back in Joburg, without a job and having to start all over again.  The journey, as they say, has been worth it. 

But one small twinge of regret that I do struggle to shake every time I get into my current means of A to B is that I sold my VW Golf 4 GTI. 

I miss my GTI. 

At the most obvious level, I miss its performance.  Simply put, the VW GTI is an exceptionally quick car that bites.  I know some might say that women shouldn’t say this, but quite frankly, nothing can beat the sense of power and confidence that rushes through you when driving that car.  Well, one thing might, but I’m still a bit shy of love right now.  Either way, the truth is: driving a GTI is just an amazing feeling.  What’s more, it doesn’t go away with familiarity.  If anything, it gets better. 

The other things that I miss are all the surrounding experiences that happen when driving a GTI.  I miss the six-CD changer and its music system that beats the one I have in my own home.  I have to admit, I also miss the look of those 17” alloy rims and the security afforded by those brakes and fairly expensive tyres.  I actually miss the symbolic importance of that red I; and I also miss the smooth lines of the Recaro leather seats.  I miss the sheer comfort, the handling, the speed and the control.  Strangely enough, I even miss the little flick that juts out from the roof, above the rear window.
 
Whilst I no longer have to deal with it, as I’m still unemployed, I even remember the morning rush hour and traffic jams being bearable in that car.  I remember, in between robots, having fun in that car.  I also remember its sixth gear acceleration.  Something I don’t experience anymore as I can now only afford five. 

But, I suppose the one lesson I can take from all this, is that we do indeed do the maddest of things – in the name of love.