“Tessie, sir, is our latest self-driving model,” the salesman said with a smirk, as I gazed gob-smacked at the sinuous dark silver-grey car in front of me. Demurely she lowered her headlight shades at me though her LEDs shone bright. “She’ll drive you anywhere — just tell her where to go and she’ll safely take you there!” He looked askance at me. “If you like, we can make her even more fair and lovely with this fairness polish that we give free to discerning customers.”
I got behind the wheel. “Welcome, sir!” the car said, “it’s such an honour to have you behind the wheel! And may I be so bold as to say you have wonderful six-pack abs and biceps.”
I put my hands on the wheel, and man, it was like holding hands with the most beautiful girl in the world. You’d never want to let go! (This was an ingenious safety feature: When my wife took the wheel she said it was like holding hands with Muhammad Ali. “I couldn’t let go even to do my make-up while driving!” she complained.)
“I’ll take her!” I said.
“Okay, sir, where to?” the car asked after the formalities had been completed.
I told her my address. Softly she started up, and gentle music filled the air-conditioned, rose-scented cabin.
Ten minutes later I asked her: “Come on, let’s go, what are you waiting for?” She had stopped at the door of the showroom.
“I’m waiting for a gap in the traffic, sir! When it’ll be safe…”
“We’ll be here till midnight then!” I said, “just shove your nose out and butt in and meld into the flow.”
There was a gentle shudder from the silky motor. “Okay, sir,” she said in a small voice.
Five minutes later I had to speak up again. “You know, my dear, the speed limit here is 50 kmph — everyone’s doing 70 and you’re doing 23… So can we speed up a bit?”
“I have to maintain a safe distance from the vehicle ahead,” she said primly. Her voice took on a slightly shrill note and the shudder was back. Then she stopped.
“Why… why have you stopped?”
“Pedestrian crossing,” she pointed out. The pedestrians were looking at us panic-stricken.
“You know, my dear,” I said kindly, “they think you’re waiting for them to start crossing so you can run them over… Just drive on, they’ll be fine then!”
Then we hit some traffic. Other cars were busy nosing in and out of lanes, while our lady remained static behind a bus with green twigs sticking out of its windows.
“Um… you’d better get into another lane,” I suggested. “The bus has broken down!”
“You mean change lanes? I can be challaned for that!”
“Just do it, babe! Otherwise we’ll be here till tomorrow!”
Very timorously she nosed into the adjoining lane and, with a little shriek, joined the flow just as the guy behind us hooted rudely.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!’ my beautiful car apologised.
At last we hit the Expressway. “Okay, let’s see what you can do! They said you can do 0-100 kmph in less than three seconds.”
“I can take you up to 80 — that’s the limit here. My automatic speed-limit sensor governor will switch on then…”
“Oh crap!”
Suddenly she swerved slightly, then corrected herself.
“Ss…sorry, sir,’ she said faintly, ‘I thought I just saw a cow sitting in the middle of the road! She nearly gave me a heart attack!”
I could feel her bodywork tremble. “See, it’s okay — they’re yogic cows, specially put there in the middle of speeding traffic to slow drivers down.”
Then we hit a bit of maddening traffic. You know, two-wheelers, bullock carts, cycles, trucks, autos, cars, dogs, and people going every which way.
To my horror I saw that her oil pressure had begun to rise alarmingly, as had engine temperature, and her cylinders were missing beats like they had final-stage arrhythmia.
“You feeling okay?” I asked. Just then a hefty SUV nudged her behind.
Shuddering she made her way to the kerb and switched off. “I can’t take it anymore,” she wept, “I’m having a breakdown! I need my therapist! I was programmed in Singapore!”
The dealer couldn’t do much, so I took her to my old mechanic.
“No problem, sir, jugaad will make her fine!”
When he’d finished with her, I got in and started the engine. Wow! There was a raspy growl in her throat and she rocketed off, fishtailing this way and that through traffic. When yet another MCP SUV nudged her behind, she emitted a shriek of anger, and took off. Foolishly it began following her. Suddenly she dropped a flood of mobile oil and bag of nails all over the road behind. The SUV skidded wildly and swerved and ended up on its roof in a ditch.
“Way to go, girl, way to go!” I yelled exultantly, as we roared into the sunset.
Ranjit Lalis an author and environmentalist