In vroom versus va-voom stakes, size does matter

“IT IS not nearly big enough to impress any woman,” my grandson announced emphatically and with ill-concealed disgust.

"IT IS not nearly big enough to impress any woman," my grandson announced emphatically and with ill-concealed disgust.

"Of course, it is," I replied, more than a little annoyed at his superior tone.

"Anyway what does a mere youth know what impresses women?" I said.

"I know they all want something bigger than that tiny thing," he jeered. "What do you call it, anyway?"

"This," I said proudly, "is the future, it is my very own electric car designed and manufactured by me alone."

"Only two seats," he persisted. "How can you take all your mates out pubbing with only two seats? It is not nearly big enough."

"I," and I tried not to sound all-knowing, "do not hang around with a lot of male yobbos. I only take females out one at a time, hence two seats is ample."

"And does it go vroom? You cannot impress a girl without a loud exhaust."

"No, neither does it sound like an old tractor without a muffler. It is completely silent and can reach 60kmh in under 20 minutes."

"Twenty minutes," my grandson repeated. "You need at least a V8; that would get you to 150kmh in 20 seconds."

"To what purpose?" I asked. "The speed limit around here is 60kmh. Your gas guzzler needs a little man under the bonnet to throw petrol down the carburettor. My electric car can go four hours at a steady 20kmh on one recharge."

"And I suppose when it runs out of battery, or should that be walks out of battery, you tuck it under your arm and carry it home?".

My grandson was getting to be sarcastic so I changed the subject slightly.

"I thought a record player might be a nice addition. They call them quadraphonic sound, I think."

"A record player," he snorted. "I suppose you expect to wind its spring up with a long crank handle?".

"Not at all, I have heard cars from miles away booming out loud drum noises. I thought perhaps such a system might be modified to play music."

My grandson stared at me in disbelief. Finally he said: "Could you get this thing up to speed on only electricity?"

"60kmh is the speed limit. My car can reach 65 with only a slight downhill start," I replied with justifiable pride.

My grandson obviously thought I was way behind the times.

"If you only wanted two seats why didn't you buy a ute? All the rage with the young blokes now, real bird-pullers."

"Good idea," I agreed, "but all the utes I saw in the showrooms had covers over the trays welded on. How can you put anything into them?"

"You surely would not put anything onto a ute?" my grandson cried in horror. "Modern utes are only for show, not for work."

"A bit like their owners," I said unable to resist such an opening. "Perhaps if size matters so much I should buy a gravel truck, big enough to impress any female and back to two seats."

I could have continued our verbal sparing but instead I decided to prove my point to my grandson once and for all time.

I took out my wallet and laid it open on my bed so that my large wad of high-value notes was plainly visible. Immediately, several young and some not so young ladies invaded my room. Frightened by so much rampant femininity, my grandson ran for the door.

"You are perfectly right," I shouted after him, "Size does matter."

Originally published as In vroom versus va-voom stakes, size does matter