Postby MG Man » February 20th, 2020, 10:48 am
see it occasionally in chase village...looks more tired every time I see it?
I remember the history of this car well. I was about 9 or 10 years old, and my cousin Pradeep had just gotten his first dog, which he named Balmain. Balmain was a stray that Pradeep picked up in Barrackpore, but that seemed an unfortunate name for a beautifully brown pothound, so he decided upon Balmain, which is where Pradeep's uncle Bolo died of a mild stroke in 1973. Ordinarily a mild stroke wouldn't lead to death, but Uncle Bolo was passed out drunk from Puncheon, in a cane field where he was hunting manicou earlier that week. Nobody missed him for a few days, mainly because nobody really cared about uncle Bolo, except when he was bubbling a pot of freshly chapped manicou
Anyhow, back then I was still recovering from a mild depression, after spending my last shilling on skin lightening cream, which did not work like the billboard said it would. My aspirations of becoming a bollywood superstar were replaced with slightly lesser aspirations of becoming the guy with the moustache and khaki police uniform.
After three months of not shaving, I almost had a partial full growth moustache and began mailing photos of myself to the Amitabh Bachan fan club, in the hopes of being discovered. Meanwhile I thought a future mediocre extra in a bollywood blockbuster would need a car that would reflect my lofty aspirations.
After deciding paying Mr. Amar for a tape deck and windscreen chrome strips was highway robbery, I gave up on owning a Crown, and took a green band maxi to Lyon's dealership in Couva. Not satisfied with the current 5 series, I spent the evening walking the Couva main road, collecting bottles to sell back and make up enough money to travel to HE Robinson and see what superior cars it had in Town.
Never having travelled this far before, I packed a meal of peardrax and two bourborn biscuit and boarded a taxi for Curepe. from there, I took a maxi and headed east toward Port of Spain, with the misunderstood notion that I had to go to East Dry River. I had to spend three nights in Sangre Grande, as there were fewer glass bottles to be had.
By the time I made it to Port of Spain, I gave up on the whole idea of owning a BMW