Lighter

(15 minute writing exercise with random object stimulus: cigarette lighter.)

Lighter

‘We’ll take the scenic route and have lunch at the Royal Oak.’

Martha knew what that meant: a couple of pints, he’d be just under the legal limit and she’d spend the rest of the journey clutching the side of her seat wishing she’d learned to drive back when everyone else had.

‘Anyway we need to test the mileage, it’s supposed to do seventy to the gallon.’

‘They don’t measure it like that any more, it’s kilometres per litre.’ Martha knew that would annoy him, but couldn’t resist a minor triumph.

‘Whatever, the days of petrol are over, that’s for sure.’

Martha took out her cigarettes.

‘No smoking in the new car,’ Martin said, ‘you’ll have to wait for the pub.’

Martin had always been a petrolhead, and proud of it. Their marriage could be tracked by the cars they’d acquired in the same way other couples marked the years by the progress of their children. Martin even insisted on commemorating the day in the year each car was bought. 15 March was the Morris Marina, that was the only one Martha remembered because it was the ides of March and seemed appropriate to a car which had proved such a disaster.

Usually Martin would use any excuse for a road trip but this one, the annual visit to her parents, was always a battle. This date was rejected because of work commitments, that date because there was a rugby international which couldn’t be missed. And so it was that they were setting off in early winter with frost replacing the mist which Martha had seen rising over the fields in recent mornings.

‘Wow, look at this we’re getting over eighty,’ Martin couldn’t have been happier if he’d won the lottery.

‘Still more expensive than a regular car when you think how much it cost.’

‘Oh yeah, and the depreciation, can’t you ever enjoy anything?’

Lunch was tense, the main topic of conversation how many days they would stay with her parents. ‘God, we haven’t even go there yet and he’s thinking of reasons to leave early,’ Martha thought.

In the afternoon Martin put his foot down.

‘I think this has got even better acceleration than the Mustang.’

Martha sighed, checked her seatbelt and settled into her seat. Her doze was interrupted by the car slowing jerkily.

‘What’s up?’

Martin was glowering at the dashboard.

‘There’s some wrong, we’re out of juice. I don’t understand it.’

‘Must be the cold weather, they said it affects the battery. And you’ve been hammering it. Just as well it’s dual fuel, switch to the tank.’

‘I…I didn’t put any petrol in. Makes the car too heavy, reduces the performance.’ Martin looked sheepish.

‘Just as well I’ve got my lighter then. l filled it yesterday, should be enough to get us to Mum’s, we’re only a few miles away.’