This morning, the bit of wax residue from yesterday was removed from the Zed. The tyres were then reduced to their summer operating pressures, and the trickle charger was disconnected.
After that, to quote from possibly the finest piece of twenty-first century literature,
He reached into the cupboard of emotions, felt around for 'Fear', couldn't quite find it, but had no trouble locating 'Anger'.
"Five hundred . . ."
. . .and seventy pounds was handed over to the state. The only comfort being that it has allowed the Zed to roam free for another year, and it did seem to enjoy it. Probably as much as I did.