Why the Ferrari is bad-tempered

The most car-crazy people on earth had to be the Americans. The Europeans,who set off to colonise the “Indies”,discovered this vast,empty island continent and immediately were afflicted by gigantism,which happens to island species,like the Galapagos tortoise,for example. Freed of the narrow cobbled confines of Europe,they built cars as big and comfortable as ocean liners,powered by immense,gurgling V8 engines,whose petrol consumption was measured in barrels per mile. You could be seasick in those cars,and it could take all day to do a U turn. Alas,when the oil crisis hit,these cars sank and the Americans had to do what they had never done before,“think small”.

The British,in the meantime,had built the Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost back in 1907,declared it to be the best car in the world and sat back smugly. Their limos were Empire-sized and just as opulent and all the maharajas in the world lusted after the silver lady in the windblown nightie. Alas,the Empire went into decline,but the Brits,with their usual bulldog tenacity,refused to cow down. They lived in one of the rainiest islands,talked about the weather all day,and they cussedly started making small,raspy two-seater sports convertibles in which you could feel the wind in your hair and pneumonia in your lungs in under six seconds. But thankfully they did,for one of these cars was the exquisite E-type Jaguar,one of the most gorgeous sports cars of all time.

Then of course,there was the Mini,which frankly did have something of a bulldog-puppy appeal,even though it scurried about in more terrier than bulldog fashion. But how the mighty are fallen! The flying nightie-lady is now made by the Germans,and yon noble houses of Jaguar and Land Rover have gone native!

As for the Germans,they had a fetish for finely engineered stainless steel. Everything they touched had to be machined to perfection. Which was just so,because they invented the car in the first place. Steel-jacketed and soulless you might think,but ah,yes the Germans too had god on their side. For who would have thought that Adolf Hitler would be instrumental in producing the world’s most loved car — the VW Beetle? Perhaps it was His way of punishing him,by making the Beetle the icon of the flower-power-Woodstock-make-love-not-war generation. The Americans even went to Hollywood with it and called it the Love Bug!

As for the French,what with their snobbish food and fooh-fwaah accents they loved getting up everyone’s noses. Especially that of the Brits. So true to their nature,they made cars that completely befuddled everyone,especially the Brits who were muddled anyway. The iconic Citroen DS looked like a duck-billed platypus,the equally legendary Citroen 2 CV like a pram,but both had rocket-science technology. You look at their engines and suspension systems and your brain seizes up. Worse,their cars even did yoga,and could levitate,that’s how you changed the tires.

As for the Italians,nothing meant more to them than sinfully sexy looks,the ability to talk (or run) very fast,and throw a temper tantrum every 30 seconds. Thus they turned out those screaming red-haired Ferraris and Lamborghinis and Alfa Romeos. As also the tiny Fiats and Lancias which were perfect roller-skate getaway cars. Everyone else mocked them,primarily because they lusted after their cars; the Brits,sneered and said everything the Italians made had five reverse gears.

At the other end of the world was Toyota. In the ’50s and ’60s they produced cheap little cars,made out of cigarette foil. Then the oil crisis struck and in a Zen moment of oriental genius,they discovered how to shrink fit American cars and ensure that they never broke down and ran 10,000 miles on a gallon of petrol.

Up there in the cold Gulag,the Russians produced their Moskvitches,Ladas and Volgas — more agricultural implements than cars. But if you lived where they did,you’d need a tractor more than a car.

As for us! Like a Somerset Maugham character,the Amby went native: a car that could bucket across a ploughed field with 24 people on board,and yet would gracefully break an axle and vomit oil in the portico of Rashtrapati Bhavan. For a brief while we were threatened by Sanjay Gandhi’s Maruti,with its lawn-mower (or similar) engine,fortunately it was vasectomised. Now we’re doing what we’ve always been good at — assimilating! We’re assimilating them all,from runabout Suzukis to swanky BMWs.

And yes,there’s the Nano: Dinky on the outside,joint-family sized on inside,cute as a kitten and all our own. But. Really there’s no telling about love,is there?