New Delhi, Nov 09: My old blue Esteem is lying flat on its stomach, like a patient etherised upon a table. Its tires and other body parts have been pulled out while a car repair surgeon, on bent knees, diagnoses the latest in its aches and pains. I share my concern with my friend Vijay who promptly hands me this advice: “Get a new car. Forget this old one, it will keep falling apart.” It’s true. The Esteem has been grunting into automobile old age by slowly giving up parts of its Self. First, the side view mirror fell off. Next, the tires cried out for replacement. Then, the brake oil began demanding frequent transfusions. Now that I think of it, the poor old car has been running up considerable medical bills.
Still, sell it? Throw it out to the wolves? This loyal old car has been a meditation retreat, makeup room and mobile library all in one to me. It’s driven me in and out of two jobs and listened patiently to my grumbles. Like an experienced face, its wrinkles speak of history. It’s been a good old car that’s given me no major trouble. Now, the first sign of grey and I should cast it away? Absolutely, says Vijay, his eyes gleaming. Get something younger and shinier and sexier. Get a Lancer, a Scorpio, an SUV. Did I hear him mutter something about a Ferrari? Is this guy even listening to me? Oh no. He’s on a mental freeway speeding away in a fantasy car into a Gone with the Wind sunset, basking in the looks others throw his way.