To me Children are like Elephants, I like them but I don’t want one of my own, so I don’t see why I should have to play any part in recycling, or endure cars fitted with stop-start technology to lower their CO2 emissions, in order to save the planet for future generations. I’m 55 and I don’t want kids, my philosophy is that “it’s better to burn out than to fade away” so if the Earth explodes in another 10 years that’s ok by me.
Any future generation will not be of my doing (On purpose) so If you have kids then it should be your responsibility to preserve the Earth’s resources for your offsprings – it’s you who should be made to drive round in a Silent electric car, and separate your bottles and cans in different bins, in fact, if you have more than 2 kids you should be made to separate my recycling too.
I like the sound of a finely tuned engine so I should be allowed to chose a V12 if I want – why should I be made to feel guilty driving a gas guzzler just so that you lot can keep reproducing? That’s my opinion and I am entitled to it but the reality is that having to go to the petrol station fills me with dread, I hate standing in a big pool of some dirty truckers spilled diesel, and the older I get, the less appealing driving a car that will pass everything on the road except a fuel station becomes.
I don’t need a car that will go from 0 to “Dearly beloved we are gathered here today” in 2.5 seconds, I appreciate Super Cars like Art Lovers would a Picasso whoops bad example his paintings are shit. Supercars are usually synonymous with enhanced bodywork, huge spoilers high maintenance costs, a demand for constant attention, and a tendency to be a bit temperamental; actually I suppose that could describe the Babe usually found adorning the passenger seat too.
A couple of years ago I spent a short time working for a Supercar Dealer and I really enjoyed it, we had some amazing cars in stock and I got to meet some great and interesting people, we had customers calling from all over the world, one even asked me to fly out to an island just off the coast of Japan to value a “One-Off” car that he wanted to part exchange against a Bentley that we had in stock, he said he would put me up in the “Lake House” It sounded very tempting however we sold the Bentley to a customer that was already on the go, having too many customers can sometimes be as frustrating as not having any!
Selling Supercars was totally different than the everyday grind that I was used to, It soon became clear that the Market was extremely buoyant and is not really affected by the economic climate of the United Kingdom, as somebody from another country that’s doing OK just rings up and says “I’ll transfer the money and send a transporter to pick it up”.
I had come from selling “Bread and Butter” cars and to say that I had been having a hard time was an understatement. So when my new Boss in all seriousness asked me if I knew anything about “This Recession that they kept talking about on the news” he really struck a nerve, I looked at him in disbelief, then covered my face with my hands and shook my head from side to side, I was speechless, I just thought to myself, “Almighty God, how the other half live!”
My Boss had been on at me to go home in different cars so that I could learn about them, 30 years ago I would have been sat in the driver’s seat of a Ferrari or Lambo before he finished his sentence, but to be honest our customers knew what they wanted already and telephone conversations usually started with “Have you still got” followed by “Can I pay for it with my debit card ?”
I don’t really like driving cars that don’t belong to me and if I have to I am ultra-careful, going home in a £150,000 Lamborghini would just keep me awake worrying about it. One night my old faithful Mercedes C270 CDi let me down and wouldn’t start, so out of courtesy I rang to ask my Boss for permission to use a car for the night, he said “Course you can, you deserve a treat take anything you want” I was spoiled for choice, we had a showroom full of Aston Martins, Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Maseratis, Porsches, and Bentleys.
We were all going out that night so when I pulled up at the venue in the £2500 Vauxhall Meriva 1.3 that we had part exed against an old BMW, My Boss saw me, he looked at me in disbelief covered his face with his hands, shook his head from side to side, and although he didn’t say anything, I could tell what he was thinking,
“Allah Almighty how the other half live!