Car-ma: It’s very real
I’m not a fatalistic guy in general, but when it comes to all things automotive, I am a huge believer in car-ma.
Be it in the manner I sold the Jetta back in the day after just one fateful meeting (with a dealer who was fair, if you would believe such a Unicorn exists).
Or in the manner in which I closed the deal to buy the 328i after cutting short what was to be one of the most expensive Sunday
maalish sessions in the history of Bombay.
Or the manner in which I closed the deal to sell the 328i after just one brief sortie with the man who proved to be the next human at the helm. On a Sunday, no less, rather fittingly. Nearly 5 years on, too.
What is to be, will B…MW.
Buy buy birdie
In the lead-up to parting ways, life threw at me a collection of prospective buyers, each with stories more interesting than the last, as I sat down to write the BMW’s next chapter.
But it wasn’t a case of the wind being firmly in my sales at all times. I listed the car for merely one day on CarTrade/Carwale, and got a few rather rubbish leads from your typical dealers, causing me to grab the nearest pack of Disprin and deactivate the ad quicker than you finished reading this sentence. I cannot suffer fools that insult the two grey cells I have left to rub together, and so I cut that cord in double quick time.
Remarkably, I got a fair few guys off of the listing here (none of them fools, delightfully). And I got some seriously heart-warming stories from prospective buyers.
Such as the young ‘un who had the capacity to bankroll the car all by himself, but wanted to speak to the folks at home and get their buy-in and blessings before pulling the trigger.
Such as the gent in Bangalore, who was disappointed to learn that Red was spoken for, and made me promise to contact him if the deal fell through, and would fly down to buy it virtually sight unseen.
Such as the delightful fellow who abandoned politeness and chose to address me as an “ass man”, while wondering if my redhead had found a suitor to take her to the ball.
Such as, most memorably, the lady who called me secretly, unbeknownst to her husband, and stole my heart over the course of a single conversation.
Image for representational purposes only. I was only slightly less animated than this gent while talking to The Lady
There is something just delightful about planning and plotting in secret, away from the watchful gaze of our significant others, as this lady had.
You see, her husband had cast covetous glances at the car for some time now, and she wanted to buy it for his birthday, because Red is the colour of love.
This lady had my heart most of all, but alas, she called me at the very end of the tale, once all had been written and the ink was drying. Else, the romance of it all was too great to ignore, and it hurt me most to turn down a woman after my own heart.
I excitedly told my wife of this tale of true love, worthy of being put in the pantheon of such legends as Shahjahan’s great erection for Mumtaz Mahal, or Jeff Bezos parting with billions because of actions guided by his throbbing monument of love.
Suffice to say, I was given steely glances by the wifey that told me to get no such ideas, and I would be extremely lucky if I didn’t get a toy car hurled at my noggin on my birthday. Romance. Who says it’s dead, eh?
As it turned out to be, the car was sent riding off into the sunset with a gent who came riding in on a beautifully modified Pajero Sport, and I couldn’t have asked for a much better home for Red.
Far from wondering out loud if the car could be raised back to its stock height, he expressed zero interest in doing so.
Instead, he agreed a price with precious little haggling, and asked my help to bring the car up to spec fixing a clutch of minor issues as he wanted her to be back to something approximating her best before delivery.
Given that he willingly agreed to foot the bill to do so, I was a more than willing accomplice in this plan.
Even so, I was surprised at the speed at which things moved once the ball was set rolling. Eventually, I was left in that perpetual state of no man’s land every enthusiast knows, where you sell a car only to say you miss it for the rest of your life, no matter how much you move on. Literally or otherwise.
D-Day (a.k.a. Delivery Day)
Inevitably, D-Day swung around and brought with it that sweet sorrow we know as parting.
The last time she was ever seen in parking slot number 69
To soften the below, I decided to take her down memory lane, just the two of us, revisiting where I first met her.
One last sortie towards the Sea Link...
...with fate seemingly mocking me with her song choices
Back at the spot where it all began...
Rebelling against the rules, one last time
Speaking of car-ma…
Having said my goodbyes to her one final time, I imagined I’d never see her again.
So imagine my surprise when Kurla West’s Kanye West sent me videos soon after, of her on JVLR, on her trip out of Bombay, for good. It’s a small world after all, eh?
To paraphrase a sappy quote, some cars enter our lives, and leave with nary a tyre print in the sands of time. And some enter our lives, leave a trail of burning rubber on our hearts, and we are never quite the same again. It is safe to say that red was very firmly in the latter camp for me, and I will mourn her tremendously in that way we all lament the absence of a much loved one.
Goodbye, red. May you howl down highways, wherever they may lead you. You were one of a kind.
Yes, I know it's a repeat pic. But it's my favourite one of her, so suck it up
Addendum: This will most likely be my last ever post about Red on this thread. While I welcome chatter and general gupshup about her or cars in general on this thread, this is where I close the chapter on Red. Her tale has been told.