What mid-life crisis? It was a just a sporty little number
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ECONOMISTS often refer to the laws of supply and demand when trying to explain one of the most basic reasons for major fluctuations in the price for a given product or service.
It stands to reason that the rarer something is, or the more difficult it is to procure, the higher will be the asking price, and the value placed upon it.
The law helps explain everything from the price of fish to hard drugs.
On the other hand, if you’re dying of thirst in the middle of a desert, the value of a glass of water will, at that moment, be higher than the most magnificent diamond ever plucked from the earth.
It’s a law of psychology that the less available something is, the more we tend to want it, regardless of its value. It’s a fact cleverly exploited by marketers and sellers of everything from iPhones to heroin.
This came to mind while traipsing around car showrooms at the weekend working through a recommended hit list of thrifty motors.
Some people get very, very excited about cars, don’t they? I’m related to a couple and both, happily for them, can afford to indulge their passion.
Other people get less excited about them. They regard them as a means to an end (getting from A to B) and are all too aware of the heartache that is instant depreciation, soaring fuel costs and maintenance bills.
For others still, cars become a substitute of sorts for something they lack. The cliche is of a man in a mid-life crisis rushing out to buy a flashy red sports car.
I’d always thought myself above all that. In my time, I’ve owned two Mini Metros and a Peugeot 106. I’ve been the temporary custodian of a Seat Ibiza and a Renault Megane. None of them flash; none particularly quick. The little Peugeot was the pick of the bunch for reasons more of emotional attachment than horsepower or miles to the gallon. They’ve all done their job (even the second Metro, written off on the Struie one icy winter morning).
That devil-may-care attitude to cars was challenged when I came across the one I couldn’t have. It was the law of supply and demand — but with a twist. The Vauxhall Astra Ecoflex 1.7 CDTi diesel simply wasn’t available to test drive. Ironically it had been rock bottom of my eight-strong hit list at the start of the day.
I hadn’t heard of the model before last week but had a deep aversion to Astras in general on the basis that I used to have to drive a tank-like pool car model of that name many years ago. Psychologically, I associate Astras with the foul smell of cigarette smoke, thoughtlessly discarded ash and horribly difficult three-point turns. I also associate it with a petrol gauge perennially hovering on empty (no one could ever be bothered to fill it up and most chanced their luck on making it back to the office on the fumes).
So why the sudden interest in a model I had no enthusiasm for? The moment I was told they "were like hens’ teeth" — a test drive was out of the question simply because none were available — I started to wonder. If they’re so blooming popular, they must have something going for them? That popularity will be down to a number of factors — not least of which is a zero-percent finance offer...
It was unsettling all the same. Almost as unsettling, in fact, as the first spin in a beautiful, shiny red Audi A3 Sportback. Now that may have been my mid-life crisis moment right there — or simply a glimpse into one of the many reasons why petrolheads love cars so much. Whatever, I cannot deny that it made my heart beat faster.
The economy being what it is, the cost of living being what that is, the price I’ve just been quoted for a new garage roof being what that is, I’ve gone for the most sensible, eco-friendly car on the list.
But that won’t stop me dreaming about the red Audi — or wondering about the one that got away.
