Suzuki Mehran

There is a company in Pakistan that makes large tin cans, puts wheels under ‘em and calls them cars. They got so good at this that they called the smaller tin can Alto, then after some time decided that it should be localized, hence the Mehran was born.

I have owned this little wonder, this bundle of joy that sometimes I call, when I am in a good mood, a car. The urdu speaking visitors to this website will understand the word ‘peepa’ and can relate to the review I would write, if I ever was to write one for Suzuki Mehran.

But I would never write a review for this little zipper-on-wheels. Why? You ask why! Because there are some things that you just do not do. The rational side of me (and of any sane person I have met) will not accept, much less actually call, this odd combination of nuts, bolts and metal sheets a car! I have owned an all-white Suzuki Mehran VXR CNG, costing me Rs 376,000 plus Rs 40,000 or so on own. I drove this thing of beauty around Lahore and out of it for more than a year. Never once, never ever have I called it a car. By name, yes, it was, is and will remain a Mehran. But a car? Let me explain…

The Engine: It is powered by a massive 800 CC engine that I swear you can lift straight out of the bonnit. With one hand if you have a cigarette in another. But the engine will make those pistons turn even if there is a burp worth of CNG left in the tank; it will sputter out warnings, the red light on the CNG meter will seem to glow ever brighter with each hick-up the car manages, but it will not stop till you reach the gas station. The Mehran just knows. No car I know can do this. The Mehran will take care of you regardless you take care of it or not, much like the mysterious unconditional love I keep hearing about now and then.

The Interior: Only recently technology companies are realizing that people do not want extra features in their software to be productive; products by the small company 37 Signals are built around the concept of less features means more focus on the work at hand. I am sure the owners of this small company and many other minimalists have taken their inspiration from Mehran’s interior. Combine that concept with the concept of disposable bottles and you have yourself a Mehran interior, my friends. One gear shift, one steering wheel, some space-takers disguised as Air conditioning knobs and a well-marked (with proper groves and everything) plastic emptiness for a possible tape deck; everything else is as disposable as your next 18 rupee coke bottle. The lever won’t bring the window down? Replace the lever for less than a 100 bucks. Heck, change the window while you are at it. In fact, come to think about it, there is nothing else to break or jam other than the window lever. Just beautifully magnificent practicality. Majestic even.

Exterior: On a hot day, the paint shines. With any standard screw driver, you can take apart pretty much anything. You can, if you want to, drive the screw driver through the door and into that majestic interior with one firm jab. I will not recommend it though. If you scratch the paint (why wouldn’t you?), you might as well see logos and tag lines of ghee oil brands like Dalda and the like; worry not and take comfort that you have contributed to recycling. The bumpers do not fall off, that is how tough they make ‘em, but if they do, do not fix them, just replace them with new ones. The insurance companies probably have a song for Mehran they sing everyday before starting work. I am sure.

Drive: Nimble. With the four tyres and all of ‘em touching planet Earth, you can’t go wrong. The car does have a habit of turning on its side if you behave too rashly. I was lucky not to be so rash. But the car drives and cuts through traffic like a hot knife through a slab of butter. Once you get the hang of the gear shifts and figure out which gear gets stuck and which ones offer more control, you will be the ‘dude’ of the streets.In one of many excursions out of Lahore, I have actually tried to get a speeding fine. The Mehran won’t let me. Like I said, it knows and it gives a damn.

Safety: Beats Volvo, but don’t compare.

So there you have it, my honest-to-God opinion of my ex-car. The Suzuki Mehran. If Transformers ever come to Lahore, my white Mehran will be the cute one. Hell yeah!