So that is how the cookie crumbles. Buddha decides to buy a car out of sheer necessity, and ends up giving in to his deepest desires. From disconnected commuting to unadulterated motoring, the loop has been closed. Asceticism can wait, now it the time to… Indulge.
So that was the story of my purchase decision folks. I was finally clear about which car I wanted to buy – The OHC. But it doesn't end there does it? You already know that I eventually ended up with a Ford Fiesta instead. So in this final section let me quickly tell you what actually transpired…
(aside: “let me
quickly tell you what transpired”? You fell for it, yet
again?)
But seriously, I do need to bring closure to this purchase process thread now. Life, and the rest of this fanatic car forum, await! My mind is full of philosophical thoughts that I would love to bombard the outer world with. Briefly speaking, I want to talk to people about
Why cars. So here is hoping that I can stop rambling on about my purchase process soon enough! I do need to speak about my ownership experience too, you know!
[ Edit: due to length constraints I have sent the final final stage into another post, so this isn’t technically the last post. They are back to back though, if its any respite]
So I wanted an OHC. Preferably a VTEC, but a 1.3 or 1.5 would also do. More importantly, I wanted one in mint condition. I know there are far too many battered OHCs out there, and I sadly encountered only such battered ones during my search. Ahh the trauma. In the meantime I found a Pre-owned Paprika Red Ford Fiesta 1.4 Duratorq Zxi (yea the title, I know) at Mahindra First Choice, and running out of patience, went ahead and booked it for 5,000 rupees. Hurried purchase. Delivery in 3 days. Then I met
her.
I was going home to Antop Hill the next day after paying the Fiesta deposit, passing by Dadar’s Five Gardens area (this is where the famed Parsi Colony is located), and I saw her. An unbelievably well-maintained, Champagne Gold O H C. Right car
and right color. And you wouldn't believe, it literally looked like it had been brought off the factory line just then – not even showroom, just fresh off the factory! I went
mental. Told the taxi to take a U-turn and stop there. He was all #$#@$% (you know how it is with me and Mumbai taxiwallahs).
I jumped out and admired the car for a while. That perfect rear and that low-slung side profile. Scratchless. Matchless. This one even had brilliant alloys. I usually dislike the alloys people put on OHCs, but she had
just the right alloys – sporty yet not the least bit tacky. Fat rubber and low profile tires. Woohoo! This car was a stunner. I realize that the taxi guy was staring at me curiously. I braced myself and entered the building so that I could meet the owner. I looked at the residents list and promptly lost all nerve. Palkhiwala, Tyrewala, Rustomji, etc etc. All Parsis, every single one of them. Not that I have anything against them, but I chickened out. I chickened out because I now understood the car before me. I had always heard that Parsis are unbelievably nice to their cars, and now I understood. This gentleman must have probably *personally* polished that car every single day of its life. He would probably admire her for a few minutes every day before taking her out for a short drive. He wouldn't use his baby for any errands; there would be a hatchback for runaround tasks (I looked around, and there was indeed a WagonR over there which was gleaming in a suspiciously similar manner). So she was just his dream car then, like it was mine. To be adored and admired. What right did I have to go knocking upon his door and ask if he would sell her? And even if he liked my nerve and said, ok I can sell to a fellow car-lover, what were my credentials? Would I be able to take care of her the way he did? Naah, I didn't think I was qualified enough to ask for her hand. So I left, sad, but also happy in a way.
Sneaky rascal that I am, I did note down the registration number and let a couple or Parsi contacts know that I would be interested in buying that car if the owner would consider selling. Shady back door attempt it was. OHCs sell for 2-3 lacs, but I was willing to pay much much more for that particular car. Told them that. Told them I was willing to forego my Fiesta deposit. But I never heard back on that particular issue. Was it gentlemanly on their part that they never came back to me on that? I like to think that they probably never bothered the owner on my account : )
I still see the car sometimes, sitting there all pretty, like a goddess. Now that I write down my encounter with her down, an idea strikes me. I will place an anonymous note on the windscreen, telling the gentleman that his car has a secret admirer
. And who knows, if he is on TeamBHP and gets around to reading this, he might feel a wee bit happy and proud that his car touched the life of another soul so!
The Drive
But can you believe it – I have never actually driven an OHC? Really. But you know the saying ‘If looks could kill’? Well the Original Honda City killed me instantly upon launch in 1998. Then type 2 came out in 2000, and a dead man was killed again. Crystal headlamps, jewel tail lamps, champagne gold color…this car was the
acme of car beauty for me. Still is. I still remember the tagline: Gem of an engine, jewel of a car. Gotta bow to the ad guy – he hit the nail on the head. And so what if I haven’t driven one – I just know how it drives.
Depress the pedal…for a while…nothing. Then, a steadily rising sense of anticipation.
Then it begins. You are near Redline now! 7000 RPM! The engine is screaming – not in a worrisome way, but more like a heady wail by Bruce Dickinson in Fear of the Dark. The engine is screaming, the tires are squealing, the car is hurtling ahead, and your heart is throbbing! Sweating palms and blurred vision! You are one with the machine. The steering is hydraulic, listens to you perfectly. The car handles like its on rails. Upshift. Screaming engine, squealing tires, hurtling car, throbbing car…this has to be Nirvana!
(Gosh that was one exhilarating passage to even write!)
So this is how I feel about the OHC. Please let me know if I am mistaken in how it drives. And also tell me if the steering wheel is really too thin – because that is the one bit that's discordant in my symphony of imagination. And of course, please let me know if I can drive yours ever!
As I wrote this, I felt a pang: ‘Damn this isn’t the car I bought!’ But maybe its better this way, I consoled myself. Perhaps there is something called too much sin! And perhaps this way, my dream drive will live on forever, unadulterated by that traitor called reality.