Here at Creditplus, we like to take a look at what our staff are driving. This time, blog manager James talks about the love/hate relationship he has with the Hyundai Getz.
They say a car can sum up your personality. A physical embodiment of who you are and what you represent. So why would anyone choose a Hyundai Getz?
When you get your first car, you soon start to realise that your life is changed forever. Being able to jump in your car and drive where you want makes life so much easier, especially if you are very lazy. Soon as the car is gone, and you’re back to using public transport or…even worse…WALKING, you become desperate for the ease of having your own car again.
“Getzy” as I sometimes call it (most of the names I give it are not suitable for print), is not my first car. When my first car broke down, poor Tito, I was desperate to replace it quickly. At the time, I was working for a car auction house, so I could quickly find a car to match my rather strict budgetary requirements. Out of the options available, “Getzy” seemed to be the best possible choice.
So what made me choose Denmark’s “Best seller of the year award 2003”? Well I knew two things about Hyundais. One, they are reliable. And two, they are cheap to run. In the 12 months I have had Getzy, the car has had two breakdowns and one failed MOT. You may think this isn’t bad for a twelve year old car, but when you don’t have a lot of disposable income, the last thing you want to be doing is injecting cash into something so…boring. That’s the problem with having a tight budget, you have to buy a used car, most likely not your first choice, and the age of the car means you have to repair it more often.
Am I being a bit fussy? Well the car does the job. It is nothing flashy, doesn’t drink too much petrol, and gets me from A to B 99% of the time. And if we’re being honest, I’m quite similar. I don’t dress fashionably (see blog author image for evidence), don’t like to spend too much money on things, and I am reliable (I think/hope). But is that all there is to me? Am I so bog standard? Is a blog post on cars the best place to start an existential crisis?
“We should give your car a name?” my girlfriend said one evening, “It’s your first car, and it needs a name.”
“Nah, names are stupid. It’s just a machine, a tool for me to use.”
“What about Tito?”
Poor, poor Tito. My first car, a Y plate Fiat Punto finished in a light not quite baby blue. The ultimate first car. Second hand? Check. Cheap? Check. Bought because its the only one you can afford? Double check.
Tito wasn’t the best car. You had to slam your foot on the brakes every time. Changing gear required you to wrestle with between gears. Steering was light until you tried to turn more than ten degrees. But it oozed personality. Every little dent and scratch gave the car character. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t that fun to drive, but it was trying its best. The Getz is boring in its simplicity. Tito was different. I didn’t believe in the special bond with people have with their first car until I had my first car.
And then Tito died.
“Poor Tito. Why couldn’t you tell me what was wrong? Before I drove you to destruction.”
Despite working at a car auction, mechanically I was naive when it came to cars. So when the radiator broke, I didn’t realise until it was too late. How is this possible, you may be asking. Well, Fiat Puntos (at least the 2001 model) don’t have a temperature gauge. I knew something was wrong. But Tito kept going, he didn’t collapse. Until it was too late. It was a busy weekend and I was making a short film, driving actors and crew back and forth. I kept telling Tito that I’ll take you to work on Monday and get one of the mechanics to have a look. Tito held on as long as he could, until midnight on the last day of filming, just as I was back at home.
Tito finally died. I had blown the head gasket and cracked the cylinder heads. The best mechanics at the auction house tried to fix him but it was no use. Tito was gone, off to the scrapheap. I had murdered the first car I ever had.
So what now? Am I destined to be trapped in a Getz forever. I hope not. When I was nine years old, my parents owned a washing machine repair business. Two doors down from their shop was a used car dealer, specialising in American cars. Everyday I walked past, there was one car that caught my eye. A Pontiac Firebird. Not only did it remind me of two of my favourite television shows (Stingray and Knight Rider), it just looked different to any car I had ever seen before. Sure, being over six foot tall may not make the car the most practical choice. But I’ve tried practical. I want something fun, exciting. Different. Like me? I hope so.
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