One of life's little ironies

Just as the external works are progressing and the garage is beginning to take shape, disaster strikes.  Driving home from work one evening last week, the Passat breathes its last before conking out a few miles from home.  It has served us well these last eight years, and at 190,000 miles I suppose it had a fairly good innings, but we were hoping to squeeze another year out of the old girl before trading her in for a newer model.  But fate would have other ideas, and as we begin our search for a new motor, we ponder the irony of this beautiful new, but for the time being empty garage.