Some beast of a ride

THERE ARE cars that literally must be pushed on along the way, much like a wheelbarrow, and nobody wants to ride in a car that bears any faint resemblance to a wheelbarrow. 

THERE ARE cars that literally must be pushed on along the way, much like a wheelbarrow, and nobody wants to ride in a car that bears any faint resemblance to a wheelbarrow. 

By the way, that introductory line is one of those cases of the “pot calling the kettle black”, because who told you that I own a ride? It’s not easy, you know!

 

Being ride-less, I’m ever on the lookout for cars that are befitting of my status as a proud pedestrian. Just because I do not own a car myself does not mean that I have no say on matters to do with autos. I have a say!

 

I do not own my own wheels because I’m a journalist, and world over, journos have been known to be the “broke-est celebrities”. Because of this, I and my fellow paparazzi love freebies, and in some instances will demand for the said freebies like only it were our birthright. And by freebies, I do not mean those things of cheap branded pens and bottled water and headed notebooks that are usually handed out at media events. Who wants those?

 

Me I want something different from the usual; something I would hardly ever have had access to in the normal course of things. 

So it was that, armed with my acute instinct for freebies, I managed to tap a tax-free ride in an auto that is not just driven along our streets, it snakes its way through them. The person manning the wheels of this beast of a ride is what you would want to call a chauffeur, that French word that sounds like something straight out of a tiled kitchen. I was reluctant to refer to him as a driver, because it is the same term that is used to describe the men that man the wheels of Starlets and Ipsums and Toyota Corollas etc etc …

A stretch limo is not something that is driven on the road. It is rolled. We roll a limo, we don’t drive it. 

But not all cars are about being rolled and pushed and driven. Once, I stole a day-and-night long ride in one hell of a road monster, a spanking new Cadillac Escalade. Now, a Cadillac of any series is what you want to call a BEAST, and don’t ask me what on earth a beast is. 

Well, if you insist, US president Barack Obama’s official ride, the Obama Mobile, is otherwise also known by the nickname: The Beast. 

A car that qualifies for the “beast” tag must be a monstrosity of a ride, must be a gas guzzler, must intimidate all the hell out of the other cars that make for ordinary fare in the midst of motor traffic.

And, no ...we don’t drive a beast. We pound it. We pound a Hummer …we pound an Escalade, we pound a Chevrolet …

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