A very old friend of mine showed up recently and the first question he asked me was: “What do you drive now?” It was unexpected because he had barely had time to say hello. “Same as ever, my old Octavia,” I told him. He was pretty shocked.
“Why don’t you buy a new car?”
“I don’t really need a new car. Besides, I have different financial priorities.”
He thought that was weird. Apparently, I am supposed to love cars with a passion. This is what all the girls he meets talk about all the time. They scrupulously study online credit schemes to be able to afford something bigger and newer than what they drive now. They know the particulars of each model better than the sales staff at an average car dealership. And they choose their guys according to their cars.
My friend insisted on showing me his shiny white Subaru. I wasn’t interested, and I can’t even remember the name of the model. In fact, I was quite amazed that something as trivial as a piece of metal on wheels can be such an object of fetish. Even if its windows can do that “whoosh” thing.
