My beloved Lada received a Viking send-off in Tuam – may she rust in peace

THE passing of one of the great engineering achievements of the 20th century, the Lada Riva, which has ceased production after 42 years of inspiring bad jokes, has reopened an old wound for me. It brought back memories of the traumatic end of my own beloved Lada, which received a Viking's death outside Tuam, where flames took her to Valhalla, the Norse hall of the slain. The Riva was based on the old 1966 Fiat 124 and the Italians flogged the prototype to the Russians at the height of the Cold War. In fact they flogged everything, even the factory, to the Soviets, who promptly downgraded the more conspicuously decadent, capitalist aspects of the model to suit their own needs. A dog was born and I, along with millions of others, became the besotted owner of one of her mongrel pups. In the early '90s, when I first arrived in Tuam, I was shocked to find that I wasn't to be provided with a company car by The Herald and was, in fact, expected to supply my own transport. I had some savings and rooting under the mattress pulled out £900, which I exchanged with a small garage owner in Bohermore for a Lada Riva estate â€â€œ the king of the beasts back then. This monster could have gone toe to toe with a tank, and was probably designed to do so. Ladas were then being imported to meet the demands of the sub-prime motoring market â€â€œ generally composed of farmers using them in conditions where they didn't want to risk a good tractor. Not being proud and never having been afflicted by car-ism, I was happy enough with my new wheels. Truth be told, I'd driven a lot worse and this was a step up for me. Oh the jokes came thick and fast but this was back before Junior Certs got runabouts for passing their mocks and cars of any kind were scarce enough. In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. I'm not saying it was a babe magnet, but it served its purpose. In time I began to take a perverse pride in her. She may have looked like a brick latrine on wheels, but boy, could she move. Paddy Lawlor and Tommy Kelly kept her running sweetly for me. No pansy 4X4 could match her on rough terrain and, in our year together, she never sat down on me, as they say around here. Any smug luxury-class executive type who dared overtake me on the N17 soon found me looming in his rear view mirror â€â€ at speed. I wouldn't let any German example of Vorsprung durch Technik get one over on my Slavic babushka. Once that accelerator hit the floor, there was nothing on the road that could pass her. This was back in the day when the 60 mph speed signs were regarded as a lower range suggestion.[private] Parking was never a problem. The Lada boasted two massive snow plough-like bumpers, which were lethal to anything unfortunate enough to come in contact with them. You just reversed until you heard a bang, and then straightened up. Valeo in Tuam have since refined this concept somewhat. I had a few mishaps, but I survived. Once, in a rural town, I attempted an optimistic U-turn and rammed the bumper into a monument commemorating something or other. It stuck fast, so I threw her into reverse, and revved that beast. I was soon moving, but regrettably, so was most of the monument. That engine served me well in getting out of Dodge fast. Another day, with my future wife by my side, I was driving around the docks in Galway when there was a terrible screech of metal on asphalt and I was overtaken by one of my own back wheels. Some toerag had removed three of the four nuts keeping it on. I retrieved my wheel, stuck it back on using a nut from each of the other three wheels, and off we went. 'Ladas were then being imported to meet the demands of the sub-prime motoring market â€â€œ generally composed of farmers using them in conditions where they didn't want to risk a good tractor' BUT it went quickly in the end. One night I came out of my flat in the Mall and there it was, gone. Befuddled, I assumed I must have misplaced it and took a stroll around the town, checking outside a number of hostelries I used to frequent in case I'd done the responsible thing and walked home. But, not a sign. After a while I had to accept that she was gone, taken by person or persons unknown, for whatever purpose. So, taking my courage in my hands I phoned Tuam Gardai to report a missing Lada. In fairness, they were good about it. No smart cracks, no Lada jokes. I gave my details and they promised to look into it. Good as their word, my phone rang about an hour later and a sympathetic Garda broke the news to me gently. 'I have good news and I have bad news,' he said. 'The good news is that we've located your car. The bad news is that it's out in the sand hills and burned to a shell.' May it rust in peace. My colleague Eithne Donnellan, now running The Irish Times, drove me out to the crime scene the following morning where I officially identified the remains. There wasn't much to identify; a messy job for Tuam CSI. There is a footnote to the tale. Some months later, the Gardai informed me that the desperados that had torched my beloved Lada had been apprehended and were due to appear before Tuam Court. Would I be available as a witness? As I was due to be there to report on that particular sitting in any case, I assured them I would. In due course the case was called. Up I got from the press bench, leaving the responsibility for recording this seminal case in the hands of my Connacht Tribune colleague Sean Rice, and entered the witness box. I swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Superintendent Jim Sugrue asked me if I had given anyone permission to take my car. I assured him I had not. He then asked if the car had been locked. I was on stickier ground here as the locks weren't that reliable and like most people I'd assumed Ladas were innately theft proof (as no self-respecting thief would touch one), so locks were pretty redundant. In any case, I swore it was locked. I was then asked the value of said Lada. I guessed about £700, which drew a few sniggers of derision from the BMW, Volvo and Merc driving legal eagles present. Judge John Garavan was quick to intercede, telling them that £700 might not have been much to them but it might represent a lot to me. It did. Then, dragged into the dock, was one of the felons charged with this dastardly deed. I fancied I could hear the reassuring sounds of a gallows being erected outside the Courthouse in preparation for the only sentence that could possibly fit such a heinous crime. A terrible story unfolded which, having again taken up my pen, I had the unpleasant task of recording for posterity. Two desperados had been strolling through the Mall on that dark night, checking car-door handles, as one would, until they arrived at what they claimed was my unlocked Lada (the oath obviously meant nothing to these depraved creatures). They hopped in, got it started (no mean feat in itself, even with a key) and drove it down to St Mary's where they smashed the steering lock. Then they went 'rallying', as they termed it, in my lovely Lada. When they had satiated their desires, they simply cast her aside and destroyed her. Drove her out as far as the sandpits and set her alight. She was loyal, brave and willing. A warhorse as well as a workhorse, and it was fitting that she received a Viking burial â€â€œ sent in flames to Valhalla. The case was duly reported in the Tuam Herald and my trauma and loss received the kind of sympathy and empathy one would expect from the populace of Tuam. One sensitive type, a shopkeeper who had a sideline in video rental, went to far as to ask one of my colleagues if any of his goods had been discovered in the burnt-out shell. He'd recognised the two convicted desperados named in the paper as customers of his who had never returned their videos. But I had the last laugh. My insurance company paid out £1,000 on my claim, £100 more than I'd paid for it, which means that, to this day, I lay claim to the title of the only man ever to have had a Lada that appreciated in value. Go n-éirí an bothar lei. â€Â¢ â€Â¢ â€Â¢ Quote of the Week 'What about those red balls they have on car aerials so you can spot your car in he car park. I think all cars should have them.' [/private] â€â€ Homer Simpson