Romance is Alive in an MX5

Spring is here. 
I know it is, because last Saturday, for the first time this year, I drove our very old MX5 along the A27 with the roof down.
And it felt amazing. 
Music playing, sun shining, deep green fields flashing by. 
So close to the ground you are almost molten.
You never feel more alive than when you're driving in an MX5.
It was bought on a whim, this little black car of ours.
Ninesh phoned me one lunchtime a few years ago and said he had seen an old MX5 roadster advertised on the intranet.
" It's a bargain," he said. " A once in a lifetime opportunity.  The owner's going to bring it in tomorrow so I can have a look at it."
And the owner brought it in. 
And Ninesh looked at it, test drove it and bought it, all before the end of his lunch hour.
And then he phoned me.
" I've added it to our insurance already," he explained, " so I'll drive it home after work.
Don't tell the kids.  It'll be a surprise."
" It will," I agreed, " it's still a surprise to me."
I was just cooking dinner in the kitchen that evening when Joss came racing in.
" Mum, mum," he yelled, " dad has just driven up in a convertable.  Where did he get it from?"
" Why don't you go and ask him?" I laughed.
" Come on Mia," shouted Joss, pulling her through the front door.
I followed them, watching as they clambered in and out of the passenger seat while Ninesh proudly showed them the radio, the seats, how the roof could be pulled up and down.

" It's amazing mum,' said Joss, his eyes shining," it's only got 2 seats but there's a little gap in the back, just big enough for snacks! "
" And is the boot full of flowers?" I asked Ninesh.
He laughed.
 Our " boot full of flowers," story is ( literally ) Hollywood romantic.
I had given up my London: job, flat, family, friends, to begin an uncertain new life with Ninesh in California.
Jet-lagged and a little shaky from a customs interrogation, I stepped through the arrivals gate at LA airport and into Ninesh's arms.
" The car's not far," he said, grabbing my bright red suitcase and pulling it and me through the sliding doors.
Outside I stopped for a moment and breathed in the warm, polluted LA air, gazing up at the sun-filled, never-ending blueness of the sky.
"Welcome to the rest of your life," my mum had said as she and my dad drove me to the airport that morning.
And here it was, the rest of my life, just beginning.
" Come on," said Ninesh, dragging me into the cool darkness of the car park.
" It's not much," he said, pointing at a small, blue, metallic car parked in a corner, " but it's all I could afford and it will get us around."
I nodded, not really listening. I've never been that interested in cars.
" Shame it's not that one," I said, pointing at the sleek, black, shiny Mustang convertable we were just passing.
Ninesh stopped in front of it.
" I know," he sighed, " I've always wanted a convertible. Perhaps our key will fit it."
And leaving my suitcase in the middle of car park, he tried to fit the key to his car into the boot.
" Nesh," I gasped, " you can't just put your key in someone else's car. You'll be arrested."
Ninesh laughed, slipped the key into the lock and popped open the boot.
" I wonder where all those flowers have come from?" he grinned.
I stepped forward and stared into the boot. 
He was right, it was full of flowers.
I looked from Ninesh to the flowers and back to Ninesh, completely confused.
" This is our car," he said, " I wanted it to be a surprise."
" But we don't have any money," I said, " it must have cost a fortune."
" It was a bargain," grinned Ninesh, " a once in a lifetime opportunity. Welcome to America."
And so, with a boot full of flowers, music playing and sun shining, we put the roof down and drove into our new life.

And even if a very old MX5 in West Sussex will never be quite the same as a roaring Mustang in California, whenever I put the top down and feel the rush of the wind in my hair and the warmth of the sun on my skin, I will always believe that the boot is full of flowers.