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Many years ago, the dealers of reconditioned vehicles would encourage buyers to go for a test drive before finalising a purchase. There were many variants of dealers of all backgrounds, including taxi owners-cum-drivers, tourist car hire entrepreneurs and their drivers, and even hoteliers and travel traders. For others, dealing in vehicles was as distant as dealing in choppers. The honest dealers, who feared the buyers, went by the unwritten code: test drive first.
But where would we go for a test drive? A dealer told me, "Sir, the best place for a test drive to gauge the roadworthiness of a vehicle is Nagarkot or Phulchowki."
"What about Tribhuvan Highway?"
I would ask some. Many would assure me there was no need to take such a long, arduous drive.
Years later, I went to a dealer, who had promised me a car variant closest to a sports model, and caught him in a state of agitation, screaming and shouting on the landline phone. It did not take me long to figure out that a test driver had crashed his car. The potential customer had told him that the vehicle overturned at Palanchok Bhagawati. I asked the dealer what would happen to the damaged car. He said the test driver would have to buy it.
The second time I heard of an accident during a test drive involved a young lad, a spoilt brat, who crashed a brand new car as he revved up out of the showroom.
A few months before COV- ID-19 took away the pleasures from our lives, I went hunting for a vehicle for off-road travel.
First, I walked into a car showroom and asked for the price of a jeep that I thought resembled my childhood fantasy: American Renegade. The salesman responded to my query without any expression on his face. He mumbled, "Rs 43.50 lakhs." I shot back in shock: "Rs 43.5 lakhs for this matchbox?"
As I needed one, I asked him about a test drive. He jumped up and said, "Sir, we can do it now?" I told him I was not going to drive 43.5 lakh rupees in the lanes of Kathmandu and asked him if it was possible to book a longer drive incidentally from Sankhu to Melamchi. He hesitated a bit. I asked him to call me at his convenience for the test drive and left.
As the electric vehicle is a fad, I went hunting for one. A neighbour who had bought an electric SUV with donors fund had highly recommended a ubiquitous brand. I walked down to another store dealing in fancy electric SUVs. "The prices start from 60 lakhs upwards," a salesgirl started her sales pitch. "I would like to book a test drive first," I told her.
She said ebulliently, "Sir, I will get the keys right away." I said not right now and not in Dubar Marg.
A version of this article appears in the print on February 28 2022, of The Himalayan Times.
