It was Father's Day yesterday.

I spent hours of it washing and waxing my pushbike and then washing and waxing and waxing and waxing and cleaning my car.

I have owned the car five years. I have never washed it. That's normally D-Missus' job. But she hasn't done that job in a couple of years. And, despite yesterday being Father's Day, she didn't feel like doing that job for me.

Perhaps, because my car hasn't been washed in a couple of years. And perhaps, because it had started growing stuff on the paint work. And perhaps, because she knew it would take hours to clean inside and out.

My girls tried to help. But it only took about 2 minutes before they were sopping wet and started throwing car brushes and buckets at each other and started shivering because they were wet, and disappeared back inside to watch cartoons.

So anyway.

Father's Day.

I washed my car.

I had to drive my car to work today.

It felt like a stolen car, what with it being clean and all.

We took my car the other weekend that we escaped from the kids and had a night away in a hotel. D-Missus had the babyseats in it, and we couldn't be arsed taking them out and leaving them for my parents, so we just took my car instead.

We didn't know this place had valet parking though.

We were pretty embarrassed handing over the keys to the valet of this swanky establishment. What with all the mould and moss and marijuana growing all over the paintwork of the car, and all.

I had to drive my car to work today.

It fell to bits on the drive in.

All those years of dirt and grime and mould and moss was the only thing holding it together.

This is why I cycle.

It was Father's Day yesterday.

I spent it washing my car.

This is the D-Man.

Living life on the edge…