A byte of life from the Land of Sumos and Sushi

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

I’m not a car man. I don’t have a dream car, and I don’t fantasise about driving a souped up hot rod. I have many friends who can tell you how many cylinders, valves, litres, even the number of rivets a car has. I can tell you how many wheels it’s got, but that’s about it.

Car talk with such friends usually goes something like this:

Danny G: “Oh nice! - Aston Martin DB7 GT, 6 speed manual gear box, 6 litre engine, 0-60 in 5 seconds.”

Me: “Actually Danny, I think you’ll find it’s an Aston Villa Martini, 4 wheels, 1 engine, some windows, pretty fast.”

Simply put - I can’t tell a Lambo from a Lada.

However, when I first arrived in Japan, my attention was drawn to a rather funky little car I saw on the roads; the Mitsubishi Pajero Mini. Best described as a mini Jeep (though obviously not manufactured by Jeep), I began, for the first time in my life, to covert a car.

But it wasn’t to be. After looking into it and finding that the minimum I could pick up one of these puppies was way over my budget, I put it to the back of my mind and eventually the dream died. Instead, I acquired a Suzkui Wagon R, apparently the most popular vehicle in Japan. We had a very loving relationship; it took me far into the mountains of Ono even during the harshest of blizzards, and I took it to the car pub every week and bought it 42 litres of it’s favourite tipple.

Alas, the course of true love never runs smoothly and this spring I noticed a loss in engine power. Suspecting it was just in need of a tune up, I checked it in to the local garage for the once over. When the mechanic told me to sit down, I new it was serious. He calmly told me that my car had only months to live. A crack in the cylinder was spreading like cancer through my engine. I was told to make preparations for the funeral.

At first I was in denial. The car doctors were wrong, there must be some mistake. It was young and healthy, it just didn’t make sense. I was angry that my car was being taken from me after such a short time. But as the weeks ticked on, and the engine weakened, I feared for the worse.

After taking it for a second opinion, but receiving the same diagnosis, I finally accepted the fact the my Wagon was dying, and that I was going to have to let go. I agonised over the decision of what to do for many weeks. I didn’t want to get a new car, but my wagon’s health was deteriorating, and I knew it couldn’t hold on much longer.

Then, one day, like a gift from the gods, a teacher at my school came to talk to me. He’d heard the sad news of my Wagon R, and wanted to know if I might like to buy his car. And what car was it? That’s right – the mini jeep style car! He was offering it to me for a good price and to seal the deal he was even chucking in snowboard racks! I couldn’t believe my luck! It seemed my suffering had all been worthwhile, my good karma had finally come back to me.

So, now I cruise the roads (avoiding grannies and students cycling and walking on the wrong side of the road) in Pajero pimp style. It’s got all the normal features that modern cars possess - 4 wheels, a gear stick, and a couple of seats, but it’s also got “intercooler turbo DOHC 20 Valve”.

How do I know this? It’s written on the side.

Beat that Danny G.

2 Comments:

Blogger Mamfa said...

All you need now is some biznitches in bikinis...
mmmmmm choto musikashi

Wednesday, July 06, 2005 1:10:00 pm

 
Blogger The Funky Drummer said...

I'm already known in Ono as a taxi service for scantily clad hot ladeez.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005 2:06:00 pm

 

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