"Why don't I just give you a car?"
Skipper Beck asked me that years ago, when he saw my lousy little compact. The Charlotte businessman was killed in a plane crash Friday morning. He was a generous guy, who seemed to give without a second thought. I once saw him give millions to charity in one night. And I know he gave a tremendous amount of his time to help organize charity events.
But I wasn't asking him for a car. (And my editors, with all their silly rules, would not have allowed me to accept it.) I was asking him to take my car -- a 2001 Toyota Echo, and drive it for a weekend. Beck was a second-generation luxury car dealer, and my proposal was to switch cars for a story. My car was valued at $3,500. His top-of-the-line Mercedes at $86,000.
He did it, even though his wife, Lynn, wouldn't ride in my filthy little jalopy. "What is all this at my feet?" she asked, kicking around some garbage. (It turned out to be my divorce papers.) "I'm sorry," Lynn said, climbing back out. "I really do think this car will ruin my dress." (She was probably right.)
But Skipper stayed in the car. He took it to Phillips Place, where he found that "The valet parkers didn't exactly jump off their stools for the chance to park it." For the first time in a long time, the car Skipper was driving did not command attention. "This would be a good car for someone trying to avoid being noticed by the authorities," he said.
TOYOTA FOR A BENZ? GIMME THE KEYS!
I GO FROM BEING INCOGNITO TO DRIVING IN THE LAP OF LUXURY IN 5 SECONDS
Friday, September 1, 2006
It all started when Skipper Beck called me up and said, "How'd you like to drive the 2007 Mercedes 550 S Class for the weekend?"
(My job is such a hassle.)
That's a $90,000 car, an elegant sedan presented to winners of PGA golf championships. It has a 380 horsepower engine, a 14-speaker surround sound stereo system, computerized everything and an all-leather interior. It's like a race car mated with Donald Trump's living room.
"Sure!" I said to Skipper. And then my twisted mind roared up and crashed into the whole situation. "If you'll drive my car."
I drive a 2001 Toyota Echo. It cost $12,000 when I bought it six years ago. The engine light's been on for five months. My ultra-basic model didn't even come with a clock, so I jammed an alarm clock into the dash. My car's main special feature is, you have to turn off the air-conditioner when you turn left.
Skipper, the owner of Beck Imports in Charlotte, is a second-generation car dealer. He's been surrounded by classy cars his whole life.
On a Friday afternoon we traded cars, and traded worlds.
"Is that a talking, computerized navigation system in the hand-polished wood dashboard?" I asked, peering into my new ride.
"Is that an open bag of dog food in the back seat?" Skipper asked, peering into his.
Now lemme just screech to a halt right here and make it very clear that this story is in no way an indictment of Toyotas. The Echo is my fourth straight Toyota, and I will probably buy more. (Skipper is a fan, too, for the record.) My particular no-frills car has just seen better days, and that's mostly my fault. (I haven't kept it up well.) When it was new, it was cute and round and shiny and white. But I parked it under a tree for a while.
"It looks like a hard-boiled egg somebody rolled around in the dirt," was Skipper's first reaction.
Lynn, Skipper's wife and co-chair of the upcoming Championships at the Palisades tennis tournament, warily climbed into the Echo's passenger seat.
"What is all this at my feet?" she asked, kicking around some garbage.
I looked in. "Hey, thanks!" I said. "You found my divorce papers!"
"I'm sorry," Lynn announced, climbing back out. "I really do think this car will ruin my dress." (She was probably right: I have at times used the passenger seat as a napkin.)
But Skipper stayed in the car. He took it to Phillips Place where he found that "The valet parkers didn't exactly jump off their stools for the chance to park it." For the first time in a long time, the car Skipper was driving did not command attention. "This would be a good car for someone trying to avoid
being noticed by the authorities," he said.
Meanwhile, I was discovering the Mercedes' power, and powers of seduction.
I accidentally cut a guy off in traffic, but before he could demonstrate his knowledge of sign language, I was gone. "Sorry," I said, hitting the accelerator and feeling the big V-8 engine take off. "And bye."
I carried on conversations with the female voice in the talking navigation system. (I actually got two real women in the car, too. Briefly.)
I eased into the fully adjustable leather seat and floated over rough roads. I announced what radio station I wanted to hear - "88.7!" - and listened as the crystal-clear music surrounded me. And the hooks, I can not
forget to tell you about the grocery bag hooks in the trunk. (Your plastic bags don't slop over!)
More than anything else, it was the attention I got in the big, sleek, silver sedan. People looked to see who was behind the wheel of that fine automobile. And it was me! If Skipper was anonymous in my car, I was the opposite in his. I had arrived.
But I also felt a little guilty. "With all the problems in the world right now associated with fossil fuel consumption, does anybody really need a car like this?" I asked myself.
Then a really good song came on the stereo. I opened the sun roof, relaxed into the luxury and felt carried away by the power. I should've checked the rear view mirror for the conscience I left behind.
At night, my worried mind caught up with me. I had to leave the Mercedes in the parking lot of my Dilworth apartment complex. I lay awake and worried:
What if someone keyed the car? Or smashed a window? Or slashed the tires?
Across town, Skipper had different concerns. "You know, that's not a bad little car," he told Lynn at home. "If he just took better care of it."
On Monday morning, when many magic coaches turn back into pumpkins, it was time to return the Benz. I set the navigation system for Beck Imports, and had a last conversation with the little lady in the dashboard. As I pulled in, she said, "You have arrived at your destination." It sounded like, "Time to give back the dream, chump."
I felt a little down. I felt a little confused. I wanted the big, beautiful car back. So I called famed psychologist Dr. Joyce Brothers in her New York office. I really did.
"Dr. Brothers, you've spent decades looking at the psychology of the rich and famous. Why did I love the status-symbol car so much?"
"Jeff, people are drawn to power, and this is a very powerful car," she told me. "It's also a very expensive car, and anyone who looks at it can see that. We like to be looked at in awe, and that's what you're feeling.
"But you also might find you're actually more comfortable in your little car. You don't have to live up to it. It's a reminder that you're comfortable being you."
I'm back to sleeping soundly again. I have no fears that someone will break into my 2001 Toyota Echo.
If you do, please take the dog food. My dog, Corky, has moved up to a luxury brand, with which he appears quite comfortable.
2007 S550 Mercedes sedan
List price for base model: $86,175.
32-valve V-8 engine.
382 horsepower.
0-60 mph in 5.4 seconds.
16 mpg city, 24 mpg highway.
Curb weight: 4,465 pounds.
Special features include: Infrared-reflective glass; rain-sensing wipers;
computerized control center for settings of audio, climate control,
navigation, seat adjustments, telephone and other car settings; leather
upholstery hand-fitted to each seat; hand-polished burl walnut wood trim on
dash and doors.
Jeff's 2001 Toyota Echo
Estimated blue book value: $3,500.
16-valve 4-cylinder engine.
108 horsepower.
0-60 mph in ... we'll have to get back to you.
34 mpg city, 41 mpg highway.
Curb weight: 2,078 pounds.
Special features include: Alarm clock jammed into dashboard, have to turn
off the air-conditioner to turn left.
He seemed to have a ball doing the story. After that, I always considered Skipper a friend, even though I never did get to know him well. But I will miss his sense of fun and generosity. I always thought of him, first and foremost, as a good sport and a kind man.
The entire story is below. The photo above, of Skipper begging not to have to drive my car, ran with the article.
TOYOTA FOR A BENZ? GIMME THE KEYS!
I GO FROM BEING INCOGNITO TO DRIVING IN THE LAP OF LUXURY IN 5 SECONDS
Friday, September 1, 2006
It all started when Skipper Beck called me up and said, "How'd you like to drive the 2007 Mercedes 550 S Class for the weekend?"
(My job is such a hassle.)
That's a $90,000 car, an elegant sedan presented to winners of PGA golf championships. It has a 380 horsepower engine, a 14-speaker surround sound stereo system, computerized everything and an all-leather interior. It's like a race car mated with Donald Trump's living room.
"Sure!" I said to Skipper. And then my twisted mind roared up and crashed into the whole situation. "If you'll drive my car."
I drive a 2001 Toyota Echo. It cost $12,000 when I bought it six years ago. The engine light's been on for five months. My ultra-basic model didn't even come with a clock, so I jammed an alarm clock into the dash. My car's main special feature is, you have to turn off the air-conditioner when you turn left.
Skipper, the owner of Beck Imports in Charlotte, is a second-generation car dealer. He's been surrounded by classy cars his whole life.
On a Friday afternoon we traded cars, and traded worlds.
"Is that a talking, computerized navigation system in the hand-polished wood dashboard?" I asked, peering into my new ride.
"Is that an open bag of dog food in the back seat?" Skipper asked, peering into his.
Now lemme just screech to a halt right here and make it very clear that this story is in no way an indictment of Toyotas. The Echo is my fourth straight Toyota, and I will probably buy more. (Skipper is a fan, too, for the record.) My particular no-frills car has just seen better days, and that's mostly my fault. (I haven't kept it up well.) When it was new, it was cute and round and shiny and white. But I parked it under a tree for a while.
"It looks like a hard-boiled egg somebody rolled around in the dirt," was Skipper's first reaction.
Lynn, Skipper's wife and co-chair of the upcoming Championships at the Palisades tennis tournament, warily climbed into the Echo's passenger seat.
"What is all this at my feet?" she asked, kicking around some garbage.
I looked in. "Hey, thanks!" I said. "You found my divorce papers!"
"I'm sorry," Lynn announced, climbing back out. "I really do think this car will ruin my dress." (She was probably right: I have at times used the passenger seat as a napkin.)
But Skipper stayed in the car. He took it to Phillips Place where he found that "The valet parkers didn't exactly jump off their stools for the chance to park it." For the first time in a long time, the car Skipper was driving did not command attention. "This would be a good car for someone trying to avoid
being noticed by the authorities," he said.
Meanwhile, I was discovering the Mercedes' power, and powers of seduction.
I accidentally cut a guy off in traffic, but before he could demonstrate his knowledge of sign language, I was gone. "Sorry," I said, hitting the accelerator and feeling the big V-8 engine take off. "And bye."
I carried on conversations with the female voice in the talking navigation system. (I actually got two real women in the car, too. Briefly.)
I eased into the fully adjustable leather seat and floated over rough roads. I announced what radio station I wanted to hear - "88.7!" - and listened as the crystal-clear music surrounded me. And the hooks, I can not
forget to tell you about the grocery bag hooks in the trunk. (Your plastic bags don't slop over!)
More than anything else, it was the attention I got in the big, sleek, silver sedan. People looked to see who was behind the wheel of that fine automobile. And it was me! If Skipper was anonymous in my car, I was the opposite in his. I had arrived.
But I also felt a little guilty. "With all the problems in the world right now associated with fossil fuel consumption, does anybody really need a car like this?" I asked myself.
Then a really good song came on the stereo. I opened the sun roof, relaxed into the luxury and felt carried away by the power. I should've checked the rear view mirror for the conscience I left behind.
At night, my worried mind caught up with me. I had to leave the Mercedes in the parking lot of my Dilworth apartment complex. I lay awake and worried:
What if someone keyed the car? Or smashed a window? Or slashed the tires?
Across town, Skipper had different concerns. "You know, that's not a bad little car," he told Lynn at home. "If he just took better care of it."
On Monday morning, when many magic coaches turn back into pumpkins, it was time to return the Benz. I set the navigation system for Beck Imports, and had a last conversation with the little lady in the dashboard. As I pulled in, she said, "You have arrived at your destination." It sounded like, "Time to give back the dream, chump."
I felt a little down. I felt a little confused. I wanted the big, beautiful car back. So I called famed psychologist Dr. Joyce Brothers in her New York office. I really did.
"Dr. Brothers, you've spent decades looking at the psychology of the rich and famous. Why did I love the status-symbol car so much?"
"Jeff, people are drawn to power, and this is a very powerful car," she told me. "It's also a very expensive car, and anyone who looks at it can see that. We like to be looked at in awe, and that's what you're feeling.
"But you also might find you're actually more comfortable in your little car. You don't have to live up to it. It's a reminder that you're comfortable being you."
I'm back to sleeping soundly again. I have no fears that someone will break into my 2001 Toyota Echo.
If you do, please take the dog food. My dog, Corky, has moved up to a luxury brand, with which he appears quite comfortable.
2007 S550 Mercedes sedan
List price for base model: $86,175.
32-valve V-8 engine.
382 horsepower.
0-60 mph in 5.4 seconds.
16 mpg city, 24 mpg highway.
Curb weight: 4,465 pounds.
Special features include: Infrared-reflective glass; rain-sensing wipers;
computerized control center for settings of audio, climate control,
navigation, seat adjustments, telephone and other car settings; leather
upholstery hand-fitted to each seat; hand-polished burl walnut wood trim on
dash and doors.
Jeff's 2001 Toyota Echo
Estimated blue book value: $3,500.
16-valve 4-cylinder engine.
108 horsepower.
0-60 mph in ... we'll have to get back to you.
34 mpg city, 41 mpg highway.
Curb weight: 2,078 pounds.
Special features include: Alarm clock jammed into dashboard, have to turn
off the air-conditioner to turn left.
loved it!
ReplyDeleteGreat story, thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteHey Jeff, have you traded cars yet or do you still have the '01? Would be great to see a follow up to the story and find out what you currently drive...
ReplyDelete