Autoshite dreams?

[quicksilver]

On 30/03/2026 at 10:22, quicksilver said:

Let me tell you about a brilliant dream starring Jenna Coleman and a Rover P6.

We lived in a mansion with a huge underground, high-security, climate-controlled vault that I was using as a shite sanctuary to buy and hoard every old car that was in danger of being scrapped. Jenna thought I was mad and despite having the choice of any car from this huge collection she bought herself a Nissan Juke. I didn't want someone so beautiful driving such an ugly car so I got a JCB, smashed up the Juke and gave her a Rover P6 instead. She was surprisingly happy that I'd destroyed her car because she'd realised it was crap and decided the P6 suited her better.

She drove the P6 to a movie premiere, where it broke down but a group of paparazzi pushed it right onto the red carpet. I sent my transport guy in a Ford A-series beavertail to recover it but he couldn't get near it because of the crowd of celebrities admiring it, and nobody cared that it had leaked oil all over the red carpet. Jenna kissed me and told me she finally understood why I loved old cars so much.

 

There was also a second instalment of this. Jenna still had the P6, a scruffy brown one registered JLC 1, and bought a Triton Green TR7 convertible (1 JLC) as a summer car. She went away for work in the TR7 and let me take the P6 to a show, where it broke down again. Nobody could fix it so I called Jenna, who walked off the set in the middle of a scene, jumped in the TR7 and came to me. It had magically gained a towbar that wasn't there before so we A-framed the P6 home with the TR7. I filmed it and she gave the footage to the BBC instead of the show she was supposed to be making.

[CreepingJesus]

I was having some really odd dreams for a while, because I'd bought a sleep aid from Superdrug I'd never tried before, by accident. It's a long story. 

The only shite-worthy one was about a G-reg Cavalier, that I'd boldly asked 'what could possibly go wrong?' when I'd agreed to take it on. I realise it was related to the story of the baggiest Cav I've ever come across that still ran (which I've told hereabouts before) but in this case, I jumped in to check the mileage, to find that someone had made the odometer a lot longer, so it actually showed 330-odd million miles. Then I couldn't work out why a really basic MIG welder kept blowing through the floors even on the lowest settings. The underseal wasn't underseal, it was rippled chocolate. The floors were actually really big Daim bars. Sills were fine though, so I just replaced the chocolate I'd chipped off, and lived with it; but I had a worrying episode of being followed by this one ibex who really wanted to nibble my floors.

[quicksilver]

Another weird instalment in the tale of my shite sanctuary featuring Jenna.

I got word that a Mazda 323 urgently needed saving and for the first time ever Jenna decided to come with me. I gave the seller (who resembled Rafael, the sarcastic guy from The Simpsons) a wad of cash to swipe it from under the nose of an enormous tattooed bruiser who looked like an even bigger angry version of Giant the Gladiator and was about to buy it for banger racing. Dainty little Jenna, normally the epitome of dignity and elegance, went absolutely apeshit and started screaming at this guy twice her size, calling him a fucking knobhead and trying to punch him for daring to do that to a poor defenceless car. He was genuinely terrified and slunk away never to be seen again. I was shocked but incredibly proud of her commitment to protect the rights of innocent unloved cars as I wouldn't have had the guts to do that.

[Spiny Norman]

I woke up today with a vivid image of a silver 08 plate spaceship Civic on skinny steel with snow chains on them. 
My brain gets up to some really weird yet oddly specific shit when I'm not there to supervise it.

[quicksilver]

I don't know if I ate too much cheese before bedtime or what, but my dream saga has taken a dark turn.

Jenna got her hands on a JCB, possibly the one I'd used to destroy her Juke, and paid a visit to a scrapyard where some folks of the travelling persuasion were crushing rare classic cars. She ended up chasing them around the yard with the JCB, scooping them up in the front bucket and dumping them in a muck heap while laughing hysterically. Someone called the police and Alf Ventress from Heartbeat turned up, but all he did was eat a pickled egg and comment that JCB obviously stood for Jenna Coleman, Badass.

My dream version of Jenna has turned into a Jekyll and Hyde character. One minute she's demure, elegant and polite like the real life Jenna. The next she's a sweary, violent, unhinged maniac hurling obscenities at banger racers and attacking gypos with a JCB.