A scratchy affair

There are those people who wrinkle their noses when they take their petrol-guzzling pair of wheels to the gas station.

And then there are those like me who can scarcely wipe the delight writ large on her face when it is time for the trip to the one of ‘em gas stations.

This blog post, lest you may think is about gas (pun unintended), is not in the least about it. So before I go off into one of my favourite rambling sessions, let me launch into what this is all about.

Last week, on a Monday morning, while on my way to work, I chanced to see a car without scratches.

What’s the huge deal about it, you may ask.

Well, in a place like Delhi, where all cars, and I mean ALL cars, have at least half a dozen nicks, scrapes, and scratches, on their otherwise metallic frames, coming by a car without the proverbial graze is nothing short of a rarity.

Now, people do love their cars. In fact, some people love theirs more than they do their respective spouses. After all, there is nothing as liberating as getting behind the wheel, upping the surround system, rolling up the windows (depending on whether it is drizzling or not. In case of the former, the windows are rolled down), and settling out for a spin about town, the highway, the suburban mall, or what you will. Add to that, the car, not just a means of conveyance, has a striking personality of its own too.

So you have macho men who become gooey-eyed when they scrub their beauties on wheels, and stand back to look at their piece of art, covered with suds (the car I mean. Duh!). You also have the busy executive, who before settling down into his cushy sedan with his copy of the Economic Times, decides to take a step back and see the beauty he rides, caresses it lovingly, and then takes a step in.

You also have the girl who takes a look at herself in the rear-view mirror of the car she is paying EMIs for from her current job. Satisfied, she smiles, saying a silent prayer of thanks for the ability to drive down, come rain or shine, to any place that takes her fancy (read the mall, the salon, the grocery mart, the NGO for children etc).

Despite people guarding their cars with their life, the inevitable, ugly scratch rears its head, leaving behind distressed sighs from the owners.

And some exasperated / pained looks from the fathers who have shelled-out money from their pockets for these wheels.

If only….