To the scrap yard

This morning I took a car to the scrap yard. And I have to be honest, I had a bit of trouble with that. Of course, it was just a utility item from 2005, worn out and worn out. But I was reminded of the day, eighteen years ago, when someone picked this car up brand new out of the box. I was reminded of that evening in the late 1990s, in a chic venue on the Champs Elysées in Paris, when Ford unveiled the first-generation Focus. I was there, young and handsome in my three-piece chic.

Today I took such an old and ugly Focus to the scrap yard. The car had been in front of my door all weekend, I had done some shopping with it. Of course, there was little wrong with it. When I started it this morning to drive it to its doom, it started without any problems. The engine started promptly and enthusiastically, the air conditioning worked, the radio played music and the car followed my directions without complaint. Like an old, loyal dog who unsuspectingly walks with his owner on a leash to the vet for his last injection, he has no idea that it is his last walk.

I’m talking about Marco’s Ford Focus from the Barrel Brigade 2023. The car still drove fine, apart from a rotted subframe and a broken dual-mass flywheel. So the MOT ends, and that MOT expired today. And yet: the carriage was perfect, it stood on beautiful Futura wheels and the leather interior was beautiful. Well, that can still make someone happy, the positivo in me thought. But no, this model was too obsolete, I received it upon arrival Van Gils Automotive in Nootdorp to hear. My Focus was a case of end of life cycle. But despite this, almost everything on a discarded car is recycled, which you will soon read all about in AutoWeek. If you buy a new car soon, you have a chance that it will contain a hint of our Focus.

The owner of the dismantling company told me that he sometimes experiences women becoming emotional when they return their car to him. I wrote it down – nice quote – without mentioning that I often looked out the window last weekend, mentally telling my Focus that this was its last weekend after eighteen years.

Taking an old car to the scrap yard is like driving your grandmother to the crematorium because of her weak hip. It’s like having the entire Dutch population go through the old service inspection and giving an injection to anyone who fails. I did it, but with pain in my heart.

With the same pain I cycled home from Nootdorp this morning, leaving the Focus in the clutches of Hades.