Something about old cars makes you happy. Or me, at any rate. When I was a kid, the cars I was familiar with were Gypsies, Jeeps and Ambassador cars. I was a happy enough kid. I was well-fed, well-watered and well-seasoned. Little joke there. But yes, for all intents and purposes, I was a regular kid. I cried when I was unhappy but I also spent a lot of time being happy.
A lot of those times were spent hanging upside down because I was showing off my acrobatic skills. We took turns hanging upside down, anchored by our knee-joints off the support structure of our iron swing set. Either that or we’d hang on to the bar with both hands, then turn full circle, feet over head, and touch back down to the ground.
The officers’ kids all attended the same school. So they’d cart us off in an old faded blue Jeep. The Jeep was always jam packed. On days when the Jeep was empty enough, we took turns doing the same routines in the moving vehicle from the support bar of the soft-top Jeep. We were insane but then again, we were also children.
When we travelled, and we did that quite a bit, it was in a shiny white Gypsy. Most of my memories of road travels in Gypsies have me hanging on to the passenger seat, standing up, sometimes for eight hours, because I wanted to be close to my mother who was in the passenger seat, holding Samuel and Feli had dibs on the cushion stuffed between the driver and passenger seats. What did we need of hand-brakes; dad was on the wheel, yes? I think Lee was usually in the backseat, chatting up a storm because that kid had never been introduced to the concept of motion sickness.
Regular town trips were made in a white Ambassador car with the quirkiest driver in the world. He convinced us to think of sludge and mud on the road as coffee froth, which was endlessly entertaining to us kids. When there was a puddle, he’d speed up and send dirty puddle water flying in every direction, kids cheering everywhere! As an adult, I can’t imagine those stunts being anywhere good for the car, but back then, it didn’t matter. We had fun. And no one got car sick.
Those were, in the lingo of the excellent Pixar animation movie Inside Out, “core memories” in the making, I realise. This is probably why the thought of three cars has been fixated in my head: Mahindra Thar, Maruti-Suzuki Jimny and Volkswagon Beetle.
Realistically, the Beetle was never going to reach me. So I thought I’d save up for a Thar. And I was, honest to god. From some time around Covid, I believe, if memory serves. But I test drove it one time the first chance I got and I realized it was wider than I was comfortable driving. As much as I loved its look and design, I realized I would never really drive a Thar. It truly is bigger than it looks. Which is how I decided to continue saving for a Jimny. A Jimny is still bigger than it appears but it is slenderer than a Thar. I would have to be comfortable with it if I was to ever own a car because as lovely as driving small cars are, I just like the looks and feel of the Jimny.
What do you want a 4x4 for? I get asked constantly. This is very valid. I truly don’t need it. I most probably will never take it anywhere that I would need a four-wheel drive for. But if I were to ever own anything purely for the aesthetics, this was it. Mostly I buy things for their functionality. But the most expensive thing I have ever owned turned out to be purely for the aesthetics. Life is funny that way.
I talked about it endlessly with my family. In 2024, I said: I’m getting promoted soon; if I get posted somewhere I don’t get a government allotted vehicle, I am buying a Jimny. That particular stipulation didn’t get fulfilled till January 2026. My sister Feli and my by-now good friend TZa helped me book one. A white Jimny was in stock and I didn’t even need to wait! Talk about meant to be.
I wrote the cheque for and drove home my Jimny on the 6th February, 2026. It was a Friday. It drives smooth. I am not a particularly smooth driver or it would drive even smoother. The engine hums and thrums with a quiet confidence. It is elevated so high I have to climb up a bit to get in. It looks smart and poised wherever it rests, dignified and graceful. Best I can say about it is – this is a car engineered for joy.
All of these have been a journey laced with the precision engineering of joy.
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