
WHILE Sachin Tendulkar8217;s near spotless reputation has frayed at the edges, automobile lovers will tell you that he is a very lucky young man.
Because most people, by the time they are rich enough to own a Ferrari, are balding and obese, combating a flickering libido and a mid-life crisis to boot. This is the marque that makes grown men sob with envy, and the mysterious aura of which, along with some astute marketing, makes others spend thousands on caps, T-shirts, watches and other such assorted merchandise.
Anyway, now that Fiat India has decided to pick up the import duty tab on Tendulkar8217;s car, let8217;s shift focus, at least for the moment, on what the 360 Modena is all about. And what makes it worth nearly a crore of rupees, a price sufficient enough to harshly yank the eyebrows of the merely rich.
The Modena is named for the northern Italian town where Enzo Ferrari, the racing car driver who founded the eponymous automobile company, was born in 1898. Literally put, it comes with eight cylinders, compared with the Maruti 800 that8217;s got three, or the Honda City with four. More technical specifications involve an engine displacement of around 3,600 CC and a power output of 400 bhp. Apart from this, there8217;s the usual list of goodies 8212; air-con, CD player, power windows 8212; features of any normal car.
But these, mind you, are the tangibles, the neatly printed stuff on a glossy Ferrari press release.
Cars like the Modena are usually bought because of the indefinables. The way that block under the hood delivers power, the wailing exhaust note, and the manner in which the car hugs the road. Then, there8217;s the exclusivity 8212; there would be no more than 3,000 Modenas in the world right now 8212; and, ironically, the reflected glory of being identified as a Ferrari owner.
Detractors of India8217;s top cricketer would be happy to know there are few stretches in this country where Tendulkar can drive his Ferrari. For one, even more dangerous than the potholes, are Mumbai8217;s speedbreakers that erupt on an unsuspecting driver like a rogue wave of tarmac. Eminently capable of putting a fair enough gash of the low slung, shiny red car8217;s underbody.
The Modena, it is said, can go from standstill to 100 kmph in just about four seconds. Time enough in Mumbai, even on the flyovers, for psychotic auto-drivers to butt in, and the smoke-spewing truck to stall. Lest these don8217;t happen to be there, Mumbai has other fellow road-users, such as the homeless and hawkers, for whom the road is but a hard bed or a market place. As for the brake horsepower this car possesses, Sachin won8217;t need a tenth of it as he crawls from one decomposing traffic jam to another.
These are, of course, every day travails that the average driver in his average car brought with his hard-earned money faces, and not just barriers to the little master8217;s enjoyment.
Early mornings then, on Marine Drive, are Tendulkar8217;s only recourse. A nice time and place for the batting genius to realise that, irrespective of who8217;s paid the import duty, the Modena is more Monaco than Mumbai.