Raging against the machine
If you remember our chat about the colour of Japanese cars, and which shades of white you are permitted to flaunt, you’ll realise that this, our new car, is riding roughshod over years of inhibition. Or tradition, whatever.
This garish little number has electric-this and automatic-that, and as such, is very much the car of the lazy, hedonistic show-off. Mothers of young children gasp, and shield their children’s eyes as we drive past, lest we pollute the minds of their fragile offspring with our immodesty. Old ladies frown and purse their lips. And if police kouban weren’t air-conditioned, then they’d probably come out and look confused for a while. Because it’s not just blue. It’s metallic blue.