Cars & Girls* is this great song by Prefab Sprout which goes, “some things hurt more, much more than cars and girls…” Apparently the band was actually singing about Bruce Springsteen’s songs and their very limited subject matter – i.e. it’s not always about a car or a girl, Brucie.
Whatever. All I know is that, besides boys, not much hurts girls more than badly behaved cars. My little black beauty started playing up last month. She stopped dead in the middle of the William Nicol. (Okay, after I’d stalled, but still – she just wouldn’t move after that). So I did the responsible thing: I took her in for repairs, only to come back to Jozi a week later and be told, “there are nuffing wrong, Ma’am”. Of course I didn’t take their lame response lying down. I argued and questioned and raised my eyebrows etc, etc, but they stuck to their story. And so I drove off into the sunset for a blissful two weeks, only to have her conk out on me AGAIN.
I was so disgusted that I left her overnight at the Grayston Centre where she’d decided to die on me. The next day, I got hold of the Balla Boss at the garage and LET HIM HAVE IT. I threatened him with lawyers and advocates and omudsmen and whatever scary sounding things I could think of. In response, he told me he’d send, Theo, his top mechanic. Theo came to the phone so I could explain the problem to him. Unfortunately, I could not make out a single word he said but I figured it would be better in person.
No such luck. It was almost worse in person. The guy mumbled so badly, I doubt his own mother would have understood him. I said, “pardon?” so many times it became offensive. The man sure could talk to cars, though. Within minutes, he’d figured out what was wrong with my temperamental little princess. At least that was what I assumed from his body language. When I arrived at the garage the Balla Boss wanted to know how it had gone with Theo.
“Great, I think. I just had trouble communicating with him.”
“Oh, ja,” said Boss Man. “I can’t understand him either. I make him write everything down.”
On the bright side of this whole car debacle, The Husband is insisting on getting rid of my little black beauty. So I’ve started car shopping. Since I don’t know the difference between a 7-series and 747, I decided to seek advice from Stylish Friend who owns and has owned, many a style-mobile.
Me to Stylish Friend:
Do you have any advice re BMW's? All I know is that the funny looking one is a 1 series. They rest of the 'series' things are all Greek to me. Any pointers would be welcome as I’m clueless.
PS: I love my boot space and am very keen on cappuccino holders 🙂
Stylish Friend to me:
Well, the 3-series is a nice girly car. But before you decide on the BMW,
perhaps go and have a look at the Lexus. It has all the girly gadgets you can think
of. It even has the cappuccino holders for your passengers at the back. The
GPS is absolutely stunning… you can even get one that has a full colour
video. When you reverse, you will see Johannes, the parking attendant, in all
his splendour… the green luminous vest, his wonderful orange cap, etc. You
will even see all the poles in FULL colour!
And wait for this… It's the closest thing to telling your car to go…
start button with no key. Open the doors without a key in your hand – as
long as the key is within a certain radius of the car, then you're OK to go.
If you really like the beemer, then the 3-series is the one. The
3 series is really cool. I like it. Also, do make sure you get an automatic. It's not
cool to have to remember your gears… not anymore!
In fact, on looks, I think it may even look nicer than the Lexus. But on
functionality and lovely gadgets, the Lexus wins hands down! It also feels
very soft and easy to drive. The steering wheel is much softer and gentle
and was absolutely made for girls.
Can Stylish Friend articulate what women want, or what?
*For the Cars & Girls lyrics and background, go to: