Cars are one of those things that I just don’t get.

 

I don’t understand why people get so upset when their car gets scratched in the car park. I don’t understand when my husband drools over a passing car on the road which to me looks like any other. I don’t even really understand how they work.

 

I know that petrol goes into a cylinder, which is then ignited by a spark, which makes the pistons move then I lose interest and my thoughts meander off elsewhere.   Then when the person who is explaining it to me gets to, ‘And that’s what makes a car go’, I nod enthusiastically and pretend that finally having this information will make a vast improvement to my life.

Which of course it won’t.

 

 

So when we arrived at the Yarrawonga Market and saw that there was a classic car show on to raise money for Angel Flight I was excited not because there were cars but because there were old cars.

I get old stuff.

 

So I walked amongst the classic cars, picking up snippets of conversations about restorations and performance, not really understanding any of it and took a heap of arty pictures of old stuff; one of my favourite pastimes.

 

So while I’d love to caption each of these photos with some details about the car, even just the make and model. I can’t.

I can’t even tell you how they work.