Chris
15 Sep 2005, 00:19
An article from the current "Big Issue".
The vehicular Jesus: stroke a Smart Car today & let their aura of love envelope you.
I stroked a smart car the other day. Just around the corner from my house. I was in something of a mood. Although that’s possibly understating it. If bad moods gave off odours, no number of magic trees could have made a dent in this stench. So bitter was my demeanour, so torn was my face, that I could have been issued a licence to drive a bus there & then. Depressed didn’t even begin to encapsulate it: I was fossilised. Fossilised under the worries of the world. So many unanswered questions pinging around my head like the last seven maltesers in the box. Climate change: can we realistically avoid biblical weather for my grandchildren, or will it rain flesh and rusty nails on my undeserving progeny? The Middle East: will two of the world’s oldest religions ever come to some sort of compromise in the West Bank, or will they needless decimation of neighbours simply continue from generation to generation? Prince: did he ever really make it clear what it sounds like when the doves cry? And if not, why did the linguists or the ornithologists never take him to task? I was surrounded on all sides by questions.
Impenetrable questions. Four foot thick semtex-proof walls of questions. Locking me in a panic room of thick belching negative fug.
And that was when I saw it. A Smart Car. Parked with its wee nose on the kerb. And I did what we all do when we see a Smart Car parked with its wee snuffly nose on the kerb. I slowed down involuntarily. I stared a bit. I marvelled once again at its beautifully simplistic perpendicular parking system. This of course is nothing new. Since the first Smart Car was parked, toddlers have been pointing and grinning, dogs have been barking from parcel shelves and pedestrians have been slowing down, staring and yes having a wee smile to themselves. But today, in the self-made prison behind my slapped arse face, the Smart Car seemed to be speaking to me. Of innocence. Of naiveté. Of blind unshakable optimism.
The conventionally parked cars did not speak of the same things. I got “whatever” from an Audi, I got “in your dreams” from a Merc. I got “so what?” from a Volvo. Not the Smart Car though. No cynicism, no attitude, no withering superiority. You know what I got from the Smart Car? “Play with me. Play with me. PLAY WITH ME”. Like a big liquid eyed Golden Retriever pup pawing at your knees with a big dirty stick in its grinning mouth. And you know for a fact that even if you threw that stick three million times, the Smart Car would fetch it at every turn and never would its myopic faith in you diminish.
I was overwhelmed. I reached for the Smart Car. And I stroked it. I don’t know why. But as soon as I did it, I was blinded by intense white light. And everything else evaporated. Only two things existed – me and a Smart Car. Elation pumped through my face like ozone. I had to catch my breath. I tasted salt. My face was wet. Was I crying? When did that happen? It was too much. I drew my hand away. Everything else melted back into place. I don’t know how long I was away, but the sight that greeted me was a queue of people waiting to touch the Smart Car. The word spread fast – 15 boys poured out of a bus from a Borstal. Each swaggered up to the Smart Car with an arrogant look and a dismissive nasal laugh. All sloped away wide-eyed, hunched by humbleness, their malice crippled by love. One particular bad boy whipped out a straightened wire coat hanger to do some damage to this vehicular Jesus. His hand inadvertently brushed the car. He was stopped in his tracks. He released contact. Then he approached me. Blinking back tears, he asked my name. I told him. He spelled out my name with his length of wire.
I don’t know how long the effect lasted. That boy could have renounced his ways of wanton destruction and chosen the path of moral responsibility. Or he could have broken into a flat and left a turd in the hall. All I know is, I’ve got a bit of wire that spells out my name that I didn’t even ask for. So I urge you – next time you see one of these urban dolphins, don’t just stare and smile. Cross the road. Abandon your car. And take two minutes out of your day to stroke a Smart Car.
Article by Sanjeev Kohli
Just remember to wash your hands before stroking someones pride adn joy - and ask any owner and they will tell you the exact moment they fell in love with their first Smartie!
The vehicular Jesus: stroke a Smart Car today & let their aura of love envelope you.
I stroked a smart car the other day. Just around the corner from my house. I was in something of a mood. Although that’s possibly understating it. If bad moods gave off odours, no number of magic trees could have made a dent in this stench. So bitter was my demeanour, so torn was my face, that I could have been issued a licence to drive a bus there & then. Depressed didn’t even begin to encapsulate it: I was fossilised. Fossilised under the worries of the world. So many unanswered questions pinging around my head like the last seven maltesers in the box. Climate change: can we realistically avoid biblical weather for my grandchildren, or will it rain flesh and rusty nails on my undeserving progeny? The Middle East: will two of the world’s oldest religions ever come to some sort of compromise in the West Bank, or will they needless decimation of neighbours simply continue from generation to generation? Prince: did he ever really make it clear what it sounds like when the doves cry? And if not, why did the linguists or the ornithologists never take him to task? I was surrounded on all sides by questions.
Impenetrable questions. Four foot thick semtex-proof walls of questions. Locking me in a panic room of thick belching negative fug.
And that was when I saw it. A Smart Car. Parked with its wee nose on the kerb. And I did what we all do when we see a Smart Car parked with its wee snuffly nose on the kerb. I slowed down involuntarily. I stared a bit. I marvelled once again at its beautifully simplistic perpendicular parking system. This of course is nothing new. Since the first Smart Car was parked, toddlers have been pointing and grinning, dogs have been barking from parcel shelves and pedestrians have been slowing down, staring and yes having a wee smile to themselves. But today, in the self-made prison behind my slapped arse face, the Smart Car seemed to be speaking to me. Of innocence. Of naiveté. Of blind unshakable optimism.
The conventionally parked cars did not speak of the same things. I got “whatever” from an Audi, I got “in your dreams” from a Merc. I got “so what?” from a Volvo. Not the Smart Car though. No cynicism, no attitude, no withering superiority. You know what I got from the Smart Car? “Play with me. Play with me. PLAY WITH ME”. Like a big liquid eyed Golden Retriever pup pawing at your knees with a big dirty stick in its grinning mouth. And you know for a fact that even if you threw that stick three million times, the Smart Car would fetch it at every turn and never would its myopic faith in you diminish.
I was overwhelmed. I reached for the Smart Car. And I stroked it. I don’t know why. But as soon as I did it, I was blinded by intense white light. And everything else evaporated. Only two things existed – me and a Smart Car. Elation pumped through my face like ozone. I had to catch my breath. I tasted salt. My face was wet. Was I crying? When did that happen? It was too much. I drew my hand away. Everything else melted back into place. I don’t know how long I was away, but the sight that greeted me was a queue of people waiting to touch the Smart Car. The word spread fast – 15 boys poured out of a bus from a Borstal. Each swaggered up to the Smart Car with an arrogant look and a dismissive nasal laugh. All sloped away wide-eyed, hunched by humbleness, their malice crippled by love. One particular bad boy whipped out a straightened wire coat hanger to do some damage to this vehicular Jesus. His hand inadvertently brushed the car. He was stopped in his tracks. He released contact. Then he approached me. Blinking back tears, he asked my name. I told him. He spelled out my name with his length of wire.
I don’t know how long the effect lasted. That boy could have renounced his ways of wanton destruction and chosen the path of moral responsibility. Or he could have broken into a flat and left a turd in the hall. All I know is, I’ve got a bit of wire that spells out my name that I didn’t even ask for. So I urge you – next time you see one of these urban dolphins, don’t just stare and smile. Cross the road. Abandon your car. And take two minutes out of your day to stroke a Smart Car.
Article by Sanjeev Kohli
Just remember to wash your hands before stroking someones pride adn joy - and ask any owner and they will tell you the exact moment they fell in love with their first Smartie!