en

** fourtune teller **
by intrepid star-gazer Pieter van Gumbrell

ARIES You take your R4 to the cinema to see Herbie Goes Bananas. It sits there very silent, occasionally slurping oil and getting up once to go for a leak, but you suspect that the car is jealous. It wants to star in its own film, and you notice it chatting to a VW Beetle at the traffic lights on the way home. Worse is to come though, when a Mini parked down the road that was an extra in The Italian Job keeps taunting your car and showing off. It even does annoying Michael Caine impressions and behaves like some kind of overgrown wild child. Destiny leads to a green boxing glove in an Egyptian castle.	TAURUS The gearstick on your Renault 4 gets jammed whilst struggling to reach the top of a steep hill. Although you stop and apply the handbrake, the inability to put the car into gear causes it to run backwards down the slope, gathering more pace. At this precise moment, Pluto - God of the Underworld - aligns with Virgo the Forward-thinking Virgin, and propels you up the hill once more. However, you reach such a high speed that the car sails into the air and crashes into a radio transmitter, sending R4 engine noises unexpectedly into the homes of BBC World Service listeners around the globe. You are condemned for attempting a cheap publicity stunt, and sentenced to 5 years living in Dartford.
GEMINI The president of Uganda invites your car to tea in Kampala, but you have reservations about the motive behind this apparent goodwill gesture. Your R4 undergoes a series of fuel injections to protect against chassis leprosy - a killer bug that destroys the undersides of cars abroad - and begins reading up on the culture of the country in preparation. In late May, it sets off on a scenic journey aboard a barge down the White Nile until it reaches Lake Victoria and the Ugandan capital, only to discover the tea is decaffeinated and will damage its engine. The president is insulted by the car's rejection of his country's gifts, and orders guards to slice off its bonnet. You claim compensation through the British Embassy and are awarded 23 Pounds.	CANCER You sell your Renault 4 to a Latvian belly dancer named Colin, but the new owner treats the car badly and gives it regular punishment, stubbing out fag ashes on the doors whilst driving, and forcing it to take petrol pumps in its rear against its will. The car staggers back to your house in the middle of the night and tells you of the horrors, breaking down in radiator leaks as it recounts the treacherous experiences. You are outraged, and go to visit the new owner armed with a small pack of currants. You barge into their house and pin them down on their bed, then push the dried fruit one by one into their navel, threatening a full packet's worth and thereby ruining their profession. The belly dancer allows you to take the R4 back, and after a period of blaming yourself and feeling guilty, you treat the car to a city break in Dorset.
LEO Dave Lee Travis stops you in the middle of the road one morning whilst you drive to work in your R4, and demands you take him directly to the headquarters of Nestlé. He is suing them for inventing the cornflake - the title for which he has become infamous, but he is redirected to Kelloggs by a man called Bryan who claims they are the true craftsmen of the world's most popular cereal creation. You cannot help getting into an argument with the security guards before you leave about the stupid pronunciation of Nestlé, but the guards have no actual thought processes and simply eject you from the premises. After a chat driving up the motorway about closed cup mushrooms, DLT goes storming into Kelloggs, and writes you a cheque for two thousand pounds to cover your expenses. You spend it on wicker ornaments.	VIRGO You receive a competition entry in the post, stating you are lucky enough to have already reached the final stage of a grand prize shareout. You scratch off the silver boxes and, remarkably, find three matching Renault 4s signalling your success. There is just one final thing to do to qualify for a payout: you must stash as many Conference Pears in your car as possible, and no less than 2,000 will do. This was an unexpected twist in the rules, confirmed only by the small print on the leaflet. Determined to succeed, however, you do as instructed and stuff the fruit in from all angles, through the doors, windows, boot, under the bonnet, in the petrol cap, even through the air vents, until the R4 is full with 3,576 sludgy pears. When you phone to claim your prize, you are told you have qualified for a beautiful matching luggage set worth £39.99.
LIBRA The current conjunction between Aries and Jupiter causes unease in your engine compartment, and being a model Libran you use an engine hoist balanced like a pair of scales to remove the mechanical components and inspect the damage. A new love enters your life around the time of the mid summer solstice, but they drive a BMW and you dump them whilst on a trip to Stonehenge, which is the sort of treatment BMW drivers really deserve. Expect a new air of confidence in your R4 driving skills later this spring, brought about when you open the dashboard fan vent.	SCORPIO How many times have you returned home to find your Renault 4 cavorting in the road with some Fiat from the council estate around the corner? Well, there'll be no more of that! You make it quite clear to the Cinquecento that it is not to see your R4 any more. However, your car gets grumpy and refuses to start in the mornings, holding you to ransom and demanding an apology. No sooner do you back down, than the two of them are off eloping in Devon for the weekend, leaving you without transport and broken hearted. So young and innocent, yet destroyed by some common muck who will doubtless dump the R4 within a week. Expect some consolation around the early summer, when a svelte Capricorn makes a surprise entrance in your life.
SAGITTARIUS On a hot day in April, you are sat at a level crossing in your Quatrelle, when the car stalls and jumps forward a couple of feet, wedging itself into the automatic barriers and partially blocking the railway line. You try furiously to reverse but the rear wheel is jammed in a drain and there is no escape. Onlookers are reluctant to help once the sound of a diesel train approaches, and people run from the scene to escape the possible carnage. Luckily, the train is trundling slowly and brakes well in advance. The alignment of Mercury and Ursa Minor turns this near tragedy to great fortune, however, when the train driver steps down and comes to help you. It transpires that they are an old R4 enthusiast, and as you gaze into their eyes, true love dawns, sweeping you away in a tide of euphoria. Unfortunately, the 17:40 to Luton comes the other way and messes everything up.	CAPRICORN Damn those blasted wheel bearings! You sit cursing your Renault 4 as you drive noisily to the supermarket, knowing full well that a new set of bearings is going to set you back at least 40 Pounds. As luck would have it, Sainsbury's do a new line in emergency car spares, and have just the part you need. It's amazing what you can find in those places these days. Destiny leads to a deranged nymph in an Estonian palace, but hey, who's complaining? The new moon in late spring brings blessings of love, Gary Glitter, plums and trombones, but beware the temptations of a man in black, who will try to lure you over to the darker side of life.
AQUARIUS Wasps, wasps, get your wasps here! You never realised just what strange things go on in the bustling mezzanines of subway stations until today, having been forced to take the tube to work after your R4 engine seizes. You are not tempted by the wares of this small, shrivelled old man, however, and opt for a copy of the local paper instead. You sit on the tube train reading a fascinating article about hedgehog pursuits, subconsciously aware of a strange staring man sat opposite. As you alight the train he follows you up the escalators and onto the street. You walk faster and quicken your pace to a sprint, but see the stranger chasing you through the crowds. He corners you in a side street, and just as you're about to scream, enquires about where you got your Renault 4 t-shirt from. It's such fine quality and he'd dearly like to buy one himself. You direct him to my gift shop and go home for tea.	PISCES Lemmy from Motorhead knocks on your door doing a survey about heavy metal preferences in suburban British households. He is a pleasant chap and not at all like the wizened old rocker you've seen on television. As a friendly gesture, you offer to drive him to the bus station after he panics about being late for a gig in Weston-Super-Mare. He comments about your Renault 4, saying it would suit him to own such a car, and enquires as to where he could purchase one. In a sudden, uncontrollable outburst, however, you scream at him 'who do you think I am, the bloody Auto Trader?' and he punches you on the chin. It was a sad end to an otherwise peaceful day, and you regret your behaviour for evermore. The numbers 5 and 7 signal a wooden roundabout in a depressed northern town.

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