Carol’s Column

Secondhand Norman storms along

How is it that so many people drive so many motor cars?

I know that there are many without cars who take buses and taxis, but nevertheless you just have to be stuck in a traffic jam to know that there are a lot of cars out there.

How on earth can they afford to buy their cars, most of them new or newish looking?

I'm presently on an intensive car replacement watch because my chariot is approaching its 12th year and it occurred to me that I should perhaps be thinking of buying something more modern.

I visited a garage advertising drop-dead sales at the end of each month. Not only will you drop dead at their fantastic prices, but you'll come out a winner because they give you cash if you purchase one of their new cars. Anything up to R10 000.

The cars were scratch-free, dent-free with paint dazzlingly bright. Some had central locking (something I would die for), and others had air conditioning (air conditioning!).

And the shapes! Cheeky but with the right amount of curve to make them aerodynamic masterpieces.

The salesman "call me Herman" - in a pink suit and turquoise tie - was enthusiastic about his products.

I explained I wanted something small and extremely nippy, with central locking and air conditioning. Herman guided me towards a car on an elevated turntable.

"How about this little job?" he said, his teeth day-glo white in the overhead neon.

This "little job" cost just under R500 000.

"You're joking, of course," I said.

By the time he showed me the bottom-of-the range, "entry" version of one of the well-known runarounds and worked out a price, including a trade-in of my car, I was looking at R59 000.

I've always believed a car is a set of wheels to get you from one place to another. True, there are cars that cause my heart to flutter. A Landrover (the ordinary four-by-four, not the fancy versions) always makes me weak-kneed, as does an old MG.

Twelve years ago, I owned a little red car (number place KDG - known as Kadogawitz) which was stolen and later discovered burned to a crisp. I was devastated and took months to recover.

That's when I bought Norman, my present car, newly second-hand, a jaunty cabriolet in black and white. He has two disadvantages: a lousy turning circle and incredibly stiff steering which means you need a field in which to turn and the arm muscles of a stevedore to get those wheels around. Fortunately, I have the latter.

I spent a week browsing through the newspaper, answering ads for "new" secondhand cars, discovering that all the cars in which I was interested would cost a small fortune.

So I decided to revamp my old faithful Norm. I spent weeks at various spare parts scrapyards looking for bits and pieces of beading and rubber trim to replace those that had fallen off over the years. (Norman is out of production these days).

Refurbishment, cleaning and even a little panel beating have cost me well under R1 000, and Norman looks cool.

Yesterday I took to the road in my gleaming mean machine.

"Wow," said the very attractive guy in his very attractive fancy car beside me as we waited in the usual traffic jam. "Your car's a real collector's piece. Are you interested in selling?"

He took my phone number and shortly after I arrived at work, the phone rang and he asked me to lunch.

I'm going, just out of interest, you understand. I believe one should communicate with like-minded people.

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