I believed that a car is just something that takes one from Point A to B, a thought car lovers find sacrilegious. Hence, I refused my family’s attempts to make me go for an upgrade. My 2005 model wore its dents with pride, and I couldn’t imagine myself in the driver’s seat of another vehicle.
I have come a long way driving on Bengaluru roads from the time that I had to get out through the passenger door after parking too close to a tree and reversing was not something I could do before midnight on that busy road. Even then, my driving skills did not lead to any major mishaps, for which I am ever grateful to my wine-red car.
A nervous driver at best, I had to necessarily traverse the Hebbal flyover, a nightmare for me. The heavy traffic tests even the best drivers. I nervously look at the car in front and the two-wheelers which crowd me as I negotiate the road with clammy hands and a thudding heart. This car of mine never stalled despite my furious braking and accelerating with jerks and starts. So great is my nervousness that I start belting out the songs being played on my radio the minute I get off that flyover. I am not sure if my car would have preferred the jarring tones of shifting gears to my bellowing, but it never did complain.
We both had plenty of adventures together. Once, it decided to go backwards at a level crossing the minute I released the handbrake and no amount of pleading made it want to go ahead. Before I was lynched by the impatient motorists behind me, a good Samaritan and I decided to exchange our vehicles and I got his scooter across the road safely and he my car. After that, my car realised that I was willing to let it go into other hands and decided to behave — or maybe I learnt the art of applying half-clutch.
As the time to bid it goodbye has approached, I am ever grateful to the hardy car that made me feel warm the minute I buzzed open the door.
I would miss my car for sure for I did learn to navigate the famed Bangalore roads in it.
Chandrika1306@gmail.com
