My Christmas Treat

We cancelled Christmas gifts. Our annual, yuletide family gathering was becoming too unwieldy, with up to 25 people all giving gifts to one another. The Christmas tree was too small for them to fit around. I sort of regret it because it guaranteed me at least one present to open on my birthday just after Christmas.

Children born close to Christmas all complain about the disadvantages of such a birth date. Here is why: Family budgets are too stretched to extend to an extra expense at this time. Parents are stuck with a Christmas present for every child, plus all the goodies Santa brings – which he does not pay for himself, plus the birthday gift. So, parents and family claim that Christmas and birthday presents morph into a “special” one, except that they seldom do. Jesus and your birthday morph but His definitely dwarfs yours.

Having to buy 25 gifts for family members had the same effect, namely, the presents became not very rewarding gestures. Much better to put the effort into our Christmas lunch. So, the odd extra present that made its way to me under the Christmas tree also disappeared. With a centenarian mother, deceased father, and my only child living abroad, my birthday usually gets cancelled too. But there comes a time when you do not really want to keep counting the years. It takes courage to acknowledge that you have lived well past half your lifespan. No amount of rum-laced sorrel, gin-laced ginger beer, more-ish ponche-a-creme, or any other indulgence can drown that sobering fact.

But we must not feel sorry for ourselves, instead, we must celebrate life, so I have taken to buying myself a present, wrapping it, and opening it on my birthday – my personal Christmas and birthday treat with delayed gratification built in. This year it is a slender book called An Introduction to Competitive Driving: A Guide, by Gordon Gonsalves. What makes this one special, is that it is signed by the author with a note, saying, “Hope you find it useful!” This is a special treat because I love driving and I love cars too. That love was an unintentional gift from my parents.

We always had wheels at a time when relatively few people did. We needed them because of my father’s work. Ours was a line of Fords and Austins. Cars then were not like cars now. I never open my car’s bonnet. Every six months I get it serviced and it never fails. In the last century, however, before computerised vehicles, cars demanded a lot of time and attention. The battery and the radiator needed regular filling up, and tyre pressures had to be frequently checked, yet flats were guaranteed. Car owners were as familiar with the shocks, clutch, brakes, bushings, alternator, crankshaft and suspension as with their own limbs. They had to be because vehicles regularly broke down.

When they needed repair my father’s big, beautiful Norton motorbike got us around Port of Spain. I sat on the large, shiny petrol tank, pressed securely into my father, my elder sister squeezed between him and my mother on the large passenger seat. We wore no helmets, but then the roads were pretty empty and you could drink and drive or ride and get away with it, as my father often did, although never with us in tandem. The feeling of the freedom of the open road and of the wind rushing past you is totally exhilarating and the adrenaline rush is hard to replicate, except in relatively dangerous sports such as skiing and horse riding.

We grew up loving cars because not only were they beautiful and useful objects. We could not help but admire the engineering that allowed the pistons to fire the car into motion and great speed. It was how we came into contact with combustion and were made to understand its importance. There was a lot of talk about cars in the extended family and also about what sort of driver everyone was. Automatic transmission was expensive and rare. Mastering the clutch and gear stick on an incline without rolling back was a true test of one’s mastery of the art of driving.

Gonsalves' book, which I have only scanned in keen anticipation, is aimed at people who want to race but there is enough in it for people who just want to drive well and safely. “Section One: The Basics” covers important matters many drivers seem ignorant of, such as how to hold a steering wheel correctly, brake judiciously, get around corners efficiently, drive in the wet, and manage losing control of the car. The rest, which I am saving up, is going to help me better understand F1 racing when it restarts next season.

The book is available at PaperBased bookstore and on Amazon.

Merry Christmas, dear readers.