DRIVEN BY DEMAND
FERRARI? FRANKLY, I DON’T GET THE FUSS. MY CAR CRITERIA BEGINS AND ENDS AT SENSIBLE (AND CUPHOLDERS, LOTS OF CUPHOLDERS)
My dad just added a preloved Audi to what is rapidly becoming a private fleet of purpose vehicles he can wheel out for any occasion. The old-school soft top for when the sun’s shining, the hardtop convertible for when it might shower, the growling V8 monster for when he needs to intimidate potential suitors for his three daughters, and so on. The habit came to a head when a neighbour complained — I think they’d spotted the alarming number of tarps erected to shelter his all-weather car wardrobe and feared some kind of refugee camp.
Because I couldn’t possibly be satisfied with my completely unremarkable, cookiecutter four-cylinder sedan, I was offered first option on one of the “children”.
How can I explain to an auto-addict that my car is already everything I ever dreamt of in a car, if I ever (I didn’t) dream of a car?
I want sensible and reliable, because I begrudge spending the tiniest amount of time or money on something so boringly practical.
Blame it on a childhood spent in a long, hot slog beside dusty roads, in the days before mobiles, in search of a pay phone and RACQ rescue. Character in a car usually comes at a cost. Touch wood, but my completely characterless car has never failed to get me from A to B without undue police attention.
I may need to turn my airconditioning off to muster enough grunt to make it up particularly steep slopes, but I have never wanted for cupholders. You can’t underestimate the convenience of having somewhere other than wedged between your knees to store a juice, water and half-adozen takeaway coffees in various states of consumption. And I don’t need an engine or hydraulic roof system taking up the space I use to store a full suite of shoes.
There’s also generally no room for other people, although verdict’s out on whether that one’s a pro or a con. Depends if you like being designated driver I guess.
In the vein of many daughterly disappointments, I’m sticking to my sensible sedan on this one.
“I NEED TO TURN MY AIRCONDITIONING OFF TO MUSTER ENOUGH GRUNT TO MAKE IT UP PARTICULARLY STEEP SLOPES . . .”