David, you must be Alfa obsessed... I'm pretty sure you were fairly active the last time I was in an Alfa almost 10 years ago...
Therein lies the sad, ongoing tale of Alfa infatuation. It all started with the first 147. On that fateful day David sat outside the dealership for hours in the rain anxiously waiting to glimpse his new Alfa being delivered by transporter. As it was unloaded and driven through the garage doors to be prepared, the water dripped down David's neck as he craned for the last look before it disappeared inside. He was occupied only by the rakish Italian lines of his new car. Repeatedly he tried to sneak into the workshop to ensure the preparation was to his impossibly high standards but, in the end, he was such a nuisance the garage owners called the Guards to have him removed. Although it wasn't obvious at the time this was a telling portent of things to come.
After taking delivery, David was often found washing, polishing and vacuuming. And when he wasn't cleaning it he was driving it. He would drive for hours on end with no particular destination only to come home and break out the sponges and microfibre cloths once again. It was slowly starting to become clear that David was spending more and more time with his new car but the first real worrisome development was when he moved his pillow and duvet and began to use it to sleep in. Soon afterwards his friends and family realised that he had cut himself off from all human interaction. Worried, some of them went to see him. They knocked on the driver side window which David lowered and looked puzzled to see faces. "Vroom!" he said. "Brum-brum-beep-beep-vrooom!" Alas poor David had forgotten human language and could only communicate in car-talk. Shocked, his visitors withdrew and discussed together what they should do. It was decided that they would all make an effort to regularly visit and try to communicate with David. It was hoped that the increased interaction would jolt him out of his car fantasy but, after a while, David stopped even opening the window and screeched tyre noises at them to make them go away.
It was about this time that the next chapter began on what was to become known as "the day of the ding". It happened in a supermarket car park for, although David had eschewed company, he still had to eat. It was almost Christmas and so the car park was almost full. This meant that David couldn't park his precious Alfa far away from the other more humdrum vehicles as usual and had to risk squeezing it between two unnecessarily large crossovers. This irked the young David as he went about his weekly shop so he tried to cheer himself up with a new sponge. Walking back to his car David noticed that the man in front was also headed that way, indeed to one of the cars next to his. Bang! He had opened the driver's door carelessly onto the Alfa. David ran up to see a small dent in the paintwork of his beloved car. Regrettably this was the second time the Guards had to intervene in what was described in the local paper as a vicious assault with a box of cornflakes.
Of course this couldn't continue so David found himself in a secure facility in the city where he received care and treatment for his condition far away from cars and cleaning products. After a few years, upon his release back into society, it was hoped that the car nonsense was all over and so it seemed for a short while. But then he bought another 147 and the strange behaviour started all over again.
So if you read a story in the paper about a man who bubble-wraps his car in car parks, admissions to hospital with unexplained exhaust pipe burn injuries, or the man who only speaks in car noises, spare a thought for young David who got bitten hard by the Alfa bug and hope that it never happens like that to you.