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Al-Ahram Weekly 18 - 24 May 2000 Issue No. 482 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 18 - 24 May 2000 Issue No. 482
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Focus Features Heritage Travel Living Sports Profile People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters Dreams on wheels
By Fayza Hassan
We often go downtown on a Friday, because parking is a little easier then. On this particular day, we found an ideal spot between several cars below a building which, although apparently in construction, seemed completely deserted. "What do you think?" asked my daughter expectantly. "It is close to everything. It will be fine," I decided after carefully perusing the site. The workers were surely at prayer or, more likely, had the day off. Besides, we were not the only ones. Five or six better-looking cars than ours were lined up against the pavement. If the owners did not fear for their expensive vehicles, then the place should perfectly safe, I reflected aloud.
We went on a particularly satisfying shopping spree and returned a few hours later to behold a spectacle of devastation. Cement covered the parked cars. Smashed windshields coated the ground with a sheet of shiny glass. The thousands of glittering shards reflected the sunlight like a brilliant, very large puddle of water. Having finished admiring the artistic effect of the rays, I began to inspect the damage more closely. Of course, our car was among the casualties. Looking up, I narrowly avoided a sack of cement plummeting from the top of the building, which was now teeming with construction workers. "Well," I said cheerfully, "we just bought a new battery this morning. Now all we have to do is buy a new car to go with it."
The car was repaired and repainted and the key duly delivered. Ten minutes later, I was driving it to work when I noticed that one of the side mirrors was missing. Upon examination, I discovered that it had been torn off its base, an observation that shattered my hope that it could have been removed at the repair shop and forgotten. Among the more regrettable features of my once trendy car are the side mirrors, which are set in fixed sockets and jut rigidly out on both sides, increasing its width by at least 20 centimetres on each side. They are promoted as essential to the well-being of the driver, who can direct them electrically from the comfort of her vehicle without even needing to open the window. Besides the fact that our air-conditioning has not worked for the past several years, precluding such sheltered manoeuvres, the mechanism itself is faulty and has been from the beginning. Uninformed and unaware at the time of purchase of the future problems such an innovation was bound to cause, I now consider it a major weakness in design, at least for an auto meant to be marketed in Egypt. The mirrors are ridiculously easy to steal and extremely expensive to replace, they completely cramp the driver's style in narrow passages and seem to be constantly in the way of indigenous passersby and drivers chronically bereaved of peripheral vision, not to mention foresight. As a consequence, I am forever replacing the devices, resorting to spare parts dealers for cheaper varieties.
Realising that I was once more on the market for a pair of mirrors (they only come in twos), I made up my mind to sell the car at once. "We will take taxis and live a carefree life," I told my daughter. She was overjoyed. She simply hates driving. One of our friends, who has been relying on this mode of transportation, was not as encouraging: "I take taxis all the time, and believe me, it is not an experience that you will be able to endure on a daily basis. Why don't you buy a better car?" she asked. In complete agreement, my daughter began to list all the very fancy cars she would like to be seen driving. She and her friend launched into a description of the elegant clothes she would have to buy in order to match our new acquisition. I thought about it for a while and came up with a rough description of my own dream car. It is not exactly what my daughter had in mind, but then she has not yet explored the advantages to her figure that will stem from wearing well-cut overalls or army surplus outfits. She will look really good in them. "If they can build the car I want, I will definitely buy it," I said firmly. "Otherwise, I have no intention of throwing good money after bad."
This is how I envision the only motor vehicle I am willing to invest hard-earned cash in at this stage. The body should be compact and made entirely of unpainted stainless steel, with ready-made dents and bumps arranged in such an artistic way that adding to them will only improve the general effect. The brittle plastic fenders so popular these days will be replaced by heavy chains with protruding spikes, designed to inflict maximum damage to those competing with me for space on the road. Knocking rivals out of the way will thus become a pleasurable experience, something to be looked forward to. Perched on high and sturdy wheels, my new car will negotiate potholes and flooded roads with facility and afford me a loftier view of the unwise pedestrians throwing themselves in front of me for no reason that I can ever fathom. Since I won't be able to see them from my elevated position, I will stop worrying about running them over. The windshield should be bullet-proof, rather small and well-protected by the steel roof. The side mirrors, of course, should be retractable. Then again, I will no longer need side mirrors. On the other hand, the upholstery need not be luxurious, only fire-resistant. Plenty of ashtrays and a powerful sound system are the only additional perks I will insist on. Finally, if at the end of the day I can neatly fold up this little jewel and carry it home with me instead of wasting precious hours looking for parking space, I will consider my money well spent.
