KUALA LUMPUR, Feb 4 — You can have it in any colour you wish, as long as it’s black — Henry Ford.
I am, by all accounts, a car nut of the highest order. Ever since I was a wee little kid, playing in the nursery of my parents’ home up north in Alor Star, I was only ever interested in cars — even if they were to 1:100th scale and anything but self-powered.
Fast forward 30-odd years and that passion still persists. I still have a small collection of cars to my name, though they’ve made the transition from scale models to actual road-taxable items, much to my dismay.
What’s this peeve, you may ask?
Well, it’s colour choices. Or rather specifically, the lack thereof.
I once had a friendly chat with the sales staff at a nearby Peugeot dealership. I was really rather keen on getting one of their pretty little 308 hatchbacks as my daily drive back then. On paper, at least, the car was perfect. It was fuel-efficient, had brilliant specs and rather more importantly, was equipped with a full-length glass sunroof. Yes, I know — a completely redundant item considering our weather, but I’m shallow that way. Just deal with it and move on.
I was, frankly, sold. It had everything one could want or need from an automobile. Just as I was about to whip out my cheque book to pay for the sexy beast, I stopped and asked about colours, as anyone spending 100k on a car should.
Now, I must state at this point that I have a soft spot — some even say an obsession — with blue. Or any derivative thereof. Cerulean, turquoise, lapis — it doesn’t matter. So long as it reminds me of clear blue skies and crystal clear waters, I’m sold. Every car I have ever owned, save and except for my first silver Proton Saga Megavalve automatic, has been in a shade of blue. I had then, as I have now, no intention of breaking that tradition.
When it came to this terrific little French number, however, I was out of luck. The little lion came in rather predictable colour choices — silver, grey, gold, black, white and, rather shockingly, red. But nothing else in-between. No blue. No greys with hints of blue. No cerulean. No turquoise. Not even remote variants of my favourite colour. I bit my lip in frustration and walked away.
The same thing happened when a good friend of mine was in the market for a car to replace her trusty, but admittedly slightly dilapidated 15-year-old Proton Wira. Being a big fan of the ever-reliable Japanese marque Toyota, she made a bee-line to the showroom to put her name down for an Altis. No questions asked. She found no argument from me, for I thought really rather highly of the car.
But when it came to colour — oh dear God, the choices were even more abysmal than my French encounter. White, black and three different shades of silver. Why in God’s name would anyone need THREE shades of silver escapes me entirely.
I was, at this point, too curious NOT to ask the friendly sales guy why the colour choices were so limited. His answer?
“Blue cannot sell one lah.”
I thought about it for a moment, looked at the colour charts for all their models, took note of the various shades of grey, beige and silver dominating the charts and asked him this:
“Well, if you don’t offer blue on any of your cars, how would you know if it sells or not?”
Rather obviously stumped, he could only offer a sheepish grin while I rolled my eyes in disdain.
And so the peeve remains…
