1986 - May 2000: Bursting onto the scene in the spring of the new millennium came my second car, Nicolexia, once again deriving her new name from the letters NCX on the number plate. I spent considerable time trying to find a female name beginning with N and featuring the unlikely - if not impossible - delights of C and X consecutively, but to no avail. I even went to a branch of Waterstones and searched through one of those books of girls' names, but in the end had to settle for this bizarre invention of my own. It makes sense in my head though. For a start, it follows the syllabic over-embellishment trend set by Angelica, and most importantly it can be shortened to a pet name of Nicole, just as Angel became my truncated term of endearment previously.

And what better name could you have for a Renault? For years in this country, we as a tormented nation were subjected to a parade of enchanting-cum-bloody-annoying television commercials featuring the Renault-worshipping exploits of this fairytale French girl called Nicole, as she approached adolescence and wore ever shrinking summer dresses in the front of her new Clio, accompanied by her staid and somewhat daughter-smug Papa wherever she went (see the Renault Ads page of the Rants section for more). So, now I'm the Papa and the car is my daughter, Nicole, which is a somewhat disturbing human-car relationship, I must admit.

But, what of Nicole in the twentieth century, I hear you cry? Did she melt herself down as part of the war effort, get exported as a child to Australia and have an affair with Cary Grant before turning into a hippy and becoming a legendary figure at Woodstock? Well, no, not quite, but this car had a long, chequered history over her first fourteen years, as is evident from the logbook that I acquired when I bought her. In fact, logbook isn't a good term; large zip-up wallet containing a fair forest of documents, would be more precise. It was a sad day when I parted with Angel, but trotting along in my new blue friend, Nicole, on the way home was reassuring, and I was to be the latest in a long line of owners who had devoted themselves to her.

Born in 1985 or 1986 (records are ambiguous) in Halifax, as one of the last of the right-hand-drive UK R4 imports, Nicolexia found her feet around the grim northern towns of England. Huddersfield, Barnsley and Leeds would appear to have been some of her favourite teenage haunts; we must assume for the buzzing nightlife and casual acquaintances with other urban vehicles. Clocking up nearly 100,000 miles in her first five years, Nicole was a racy sort who was clearly too much to handle for her first few owners, myself being the seventh in the chain. She was treated to luxury slap-up services at the hands of main dealers for several years, though times were catching up with her faster than she realised, and she was beginning to wear herself out all too soon.

It would appear to be somewhere around this time that one owner took delight in adorning the car's interior with religious stickers, featuring the charms of Jesus Christ our lord and saviour, etc., most of which were hastily removed upon her transfer to my hands. I decided upon this action else the car might start wearing spectacles and sod off to church every Sunday morning leaving me stranded. Worse still, I would leave it in a car park only to find the place under siege and razed to the ground after I'd done my shopping. Nicole might be a cult car, but I don't want her sacrificing herself on the way to Tesco.

Then, in October 1996, Nicole faced her lowest ebb. Stood on a garage forecourt in Leeds, she was advertised with the note 'sold as seen without warranty, for spares or repairs only'. She was indeed sold, and for the conspicuously grand sum of £395. Salvaged from near doom by someone with a conscience, she continued her voyage around the Cape of Yorkshire, before falling into the hands of another owner on the other side of the Pennines. During 1998, she underwent further operations to bring her back from the brink of eternal darkness, and then passed from father to son, and owner number six, who decided enough was enough, and it was time for a major makeover. He set about some tasks that others would never have the patience for.

Some of the many operations carried out on poor Nicole included a massive restoration of her underside and a replacement rear end, which as I'm sure you can imagine were both painful and embarrassing for the girl. (See the Technique page of the Articles section - number TQ2 - for more). But it was all for her benefit, and along with some new front and rear wings, and a new image in a darker blue outfit, Nicolexia was ready to hit the town again, albeit a slightly bleak place called Shaw. The words 'fiddle' and 'clock' spring to mind at this point, as the mileage figure of 83,000 - present when I purchased the car - was at odds with the hundred thousand or more showing on previous service records. I was told that a replacement engine had been fitted, which would seem not unlikely given the two other Renault 4s the former owner had previously used as spares. A full unleaded conversion was another of the treats in store for Nicolexia.

May 2000 - Sep 2001: So, it was with glee that I was able to continue my ownership of une quatrelle at a time when I was just launching this website, else these pages would be somewhat bizarre being penned by a person without such a car. Nicole would live life at a slower pace in my hands (apart from the 97½mph episode on the M40, about which I shall say no more). For most of her existence in seedy Salford, things would be largely uneventful, aside from the odd trip down south to visit the new in-laws of my family. And I was once more able to enjoy the pleasures of such twenty-first century luxuries as cassette music, a feature which had eluded me in Angelica since she decided one day to start eating the tapes rather than playing them.

It is during these many 500-mile round trips from the north of England to the south and back again, in both of my R4s over previous years, that I have been subjected to some form of extended driving test devised by God. This practice still continues today, and I have a bit of a chinwag from time to time with the old git up above because it's now getting beyond a joke. I've had to endure every extreme element known to English man on these journeys. The cunning sod has thrown the lot at me, from near hurricanes to thick snow and ice, from random rainbows and torrential downpours sprung out of non-existent clouds in blue skies to blinding winter sunshine through fog with a visibility of nine inches. Something has always been out to get me every time I embark upon a long journey, but the good old R4 has seen me through every time.

Other strife was coming in Nicole's direction, however, during 2001, the first incident of which was the result of the utter ineptness, incompetency and dishonesty of Salford City Council, who were responsible for causing a nasty dent to her front wing, but who never owned up or did anything about it (all the gory details are in the Technique section, #TQ4). At this time, Papa was overseeing yet another overhaul of his daughter, this time of her bodywork, parts of which were in a bit of a mess. In a new, bright yellow trim and mishmash of variously painted panels, Nicolexia stood out like an overripe kumquat amongst the conformist fruit elsewhere on Manchester's depressing streets. The R4 was now about to embark on the journey of a lifetime, to meet some of its long lost friends from around the world.

7-9 Sep 2001: The long-planned-for day finally arrived, and following another of her exhaustive jaunts down to the Sussex seaside, technicolour Nicolexia was to set sail across the Channel and onto foreign shores whence she came some fifteen years or so earlier*. She would be privileged to be one of two hundred or more guests at the main 40th anniversary celebration of the Renault 4, in Arnhem, Holland. I don't know just how big a party the cars were all having behind our backs, whilst us owners ventured around the campsite and the museum. I don't think Nicole's ever going to spill the beans about all the affairs she had that weekend. Although, they would all of course have to be lesbian affairs as, according to me, all R4s are female, and I don't like the thought of driving a car that's been fondled by some dirty bloke. At this point, I move swiftly to the next paragraph before I sound too deranged.

So, of the eight million Renault 4s that were born over the years, Nicole was one of just a couple of hundred to party the night away on the 40th birthday. Having said that, I was laying in a soggy tent a few feet away in the dark under the quiet of nightfall, and Nicolexia was just an amalgamation of metal, plastic and other mass produced materials void of any brain or central nervous system, parked alongside, quite clearly lacking any physical or mental ability to be aware of its surroundings or to enjoy the emotions of social pleasure.... no, I can't believe I just said that, oh god I don't mean it, Nicky, come back! You're a lovely car, er.... thing, female.... oh no I've blown it. How can I look her in the face ever again after saying that? She's never going to forgive me now. Hmm, perhaps I've been sat here too long tonight....

Sep 2001 - Jan 2002: Anyway, a great time was had by all, including the car, although it did suffer a broken driveshaft during the trip. The following autumnal months saw more problems for Nicole, when a total pleb of a man caused further damage to her rear end. (It's back to the Technique page - number TQ5 - if you want to read about that incident). Clearly, none of this could ever compare with the trauma that poor little Angel had to endure when she was turned over, but it was a right pig happening when it did. After some hassling of staff at my college, and another extraordinary turn involving a total mix-up over costs, Nicole was suddenly treated to the biggest body makeover of her life, in the form of a full respray in glorious blue. From her original, light powder blue, to the dark matt blue of her second phase, and now this stunning third transformation, Nicole had always been a true blue, though none truer than now. Complete with her banana yellow trim, this beautiful liquorice allsort was given a new lease of life in early 2002.

Jan 2002 - late 2003: I suggested this page would be updated as my experiences with Nicolexia continued, and advised readers to 'keep their eye out for the next instalment but push it back in soon or they'd be blind by the time it actually arrived'. In an episode of site-tidying in late 2009, some seven and a half years on, I should just close by confirming that this somewhat odd blog was discontinued when the My Pics gallery pages rather took over as a more suitable and less surreal section for housing such stories. Indeed, they now serve as the adopted home for these tales too. Nicole's days were eventually numbered, but she occupies a place adjacent to Angelica amongst the legends of Renault 4s past.