Where Did September Go?
I’m sitting here wondering where the hell September has gone. Honestly, I had plans stacked up like dominoes, and now they’re all toppling over while I’m scrambling to catch up.
But at least I managed to book my NCT. Oh yes, the great Irish rite of passage. Forget confirmation, graduation, or your first pint, the real test of adulthood here is standing at the counter, wallet in hand, while a stranger in overalls tells you whether you’re allowed to drive your own car.
Here’s the fun part: they always find something to fail you on. Always. It’s like a game of “Spot the Difference,” except you’re the picture and the difference costs you €60. Last year, they failed me for headlights that “weren’t adjusted properly.” Funny thing, my mechanic had adjusted them the day before. But no, apparently the beam of light wasn’t bouncing at just the right mystical angle. Fail. Pay again. Come back.
So this year, I’m already playing NCT bingo in my head. Will it be the tyres? The wipers? A speck of rust hiding behind the bumper? Or maybe something completely new, like “excessive dust on the dashboard” or “bad vibes in the boot”? Because let’s face it, it’s not really about road safety, it’s about money. The system needs to keep the tills ringing, and what better way than to fail people for the tiniest thing?
And the kicker? Most people just nod, pay up, and get on with it. Blind to the fact that this is just another cog in the machine designed to drain us.
Between taxes, fuel, insurance, tolls, and the NCT, it feels like driving isn’t freedom at all. It’s more like renting your own car back from the system.
So here we are, September nearly gone, plans behind, and me gearing up for the annual NCT lottery. I know one thing: I’ll walk out lighter in the pocket, and they’ll walk out smiling.
Mae🧡
UNDER THE WILL... OVER THE DRAMA... 
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