Due to the unexpected nature of winning this vehicle and the explicit orders "no more cars until you get rid of one of the ones you've got", this collection mission had to be conducted with the utmost discretion. Thankfully, I had reason to be in Milton Keynes today, so a small detour to Northampton could be made, with nobody being the wiser, to collect the prize.
Therefore, the day started like most others with me "driving to work". At around 6:40am, the trustworthy 75 was left in the work car park as I moved onto the next phase of the collection mission by getting a taxi to the other side of Suffolk to meet a colleague, so that I could ride shotgun to MK with them. This part of the journey was completely uneventful and didn't even have much in the way of traffic, which is a first in the dozen or so times I have had to go there during the morning rush hour.
The rest of the day passed by as well as a Friday of meetings in Milton Keynes could go; however I left around 3:30 to catch the train to Northampton for the executive chariot which awaited. As RY mentioned above, he was rather unwell, so his father kindly picked me up from the station in the Omega. At the house, everything on the car was checked over and I had an excellent chat with SnrYoof, before heading off to make my way back home for the evening. A fill up at the local Tesco was made, nonetheless I was unable to obtain the customary petrol station shot as the sales rep in the Mondeo behind me looked like he was going to pop a blood vessel if he was made to wait a millisecond longer for his precious diesel.
On the trip, the Omega proved to be quite a lovely thing to pilot. On the MV6 I only use the sport button sparingly, fearful that I would run out of talent and spin whilst blasting out of junctions on roundabouts. Whereas with this I was comforted enough to use it more frequently, safe in the knowledge that the Omega only cost £7 (yes, I've spent about £130 in roffles before actually winning something, but we will gloss over that). Unfortunately, along the M1 the low oil warning flashed up on the very 90s dot matrix system on the dashboard. I was about a mile from Newport Pagnell services when this happened, so I promptly pulled in there whilst slowly shitting myself and repeating the word "fuck" in my mind over and over again. It would most likely cause issues if I turned up home much later than expected in an AA truck with a random Vauxhall on the back of it, which I didn't have when I left for work in the morning. After checking the oil, it was a little bit lower than it was when I left Northampton, so I panic bought 5 litres of oil and proceeded to spill half of it across the car park after I dropped the bottle. Several more uses of the word "fuck" occurred (although out loud in this case) before I managed to put the less than half a litre needed to bring it back up to the maximum.
After this incident it was smooth sailing. There were relatively few people on the road for a Friday evening, so I got to sit back and enjoy the smooth wafting abilities and intoxicating unsilenced V6 sounds for a good two hours, whilst being cocooned in the interior's masses of soft velour and more fake wood than a dildo factory.
Overall, I am really pleased with the car. I haven't got a bloody clue what I am going to do with it, but it was an enjoyable trip out and a wonderful way to travel on a dark February evening. I would like to thank both RantingYoof and his father for the car and all the help, both excellent chaps. It was great to meet his dad again and hopefully RY will recover soon.