2013 Toyota 86 Part 4: The Delivery
After its long day in the workshop getting rustproofed and tinted, our new 86 is finally back in the showroom to be handed over. As it turns out, the process is a little more elaborate (and fun) than just throwing me a set of keys.
When I arrive in the showroom, the car’s fully under wraps in this rather natty velvet cover, complete with the plaque above. I’m itching to tear the cover off right away, but as my salesperson Nadeem reminds me, there’s still the matter of registration to be done.
Cue a short trip to the centre of the DFC showroom where the embedded RTA lives and a quick dive into my wallet to pay the Dh450 registration fee, which includes long plates on both ends of the car. Despite my best efforts to charm them, the lovely ladies of the RTA could not be persuaded to provide me with a plate that said just ’86′ on it. Turns out if you try, you still don’t succeed!
The registration card or ‘mulkiyah’ as it’s known here is printed on the spot but the plates are actually sent from the RTA office, since the DFC showroom doesn’t have its own plate factory. If you want a nicer number you’ll have to make your way to the RTA office and pony up some cash. The plates are then fitted to the car by a man of very few words. For him, this isn’t the first 86 in the country – it’s just another day on the job.
At this point, it’s important to note that this is not some special service I was accorded on account of being a journalist. This delivery procedure is actually available to every Toyota customer for any vehicle sold, from a Yaris to a Land Cruiser. The brainchild of branch manager Ray, it’s a charming if little known touch that adds a little spice to let’s face it, one of the most iconic (and expensive) moments in a person’s life.
And believe me, it’s a real moment seeing your own car there, all freshly polished and ready for action.
We’re on the home straight now but I can’t just stick the key into the ignition and drive away. Nadeem first has to walk me through all the functions and features of the car and make sure I understand exactly how everything works. Which I kind of already do having obsessively studied this car for the past six months but well, the man must be humoured.
And actually it’s worth paying attention to the man, because he points two important things to me. First: with its tricky-dicky direct-injection systems, do not put anything less than 98RON petrol in this car. Second: don’t roll the windows down because the tint is still drying. No drive-though burgers for me then!
With Nadeem out of the car, the time has finally come for me to start up my new car Magic moment? You betcha. Even with all the behind-the-scenes stuff we’ve been doing, at no point did I actually ever sit in my own car or start it up, even though everyone’s been urging me to do so. Gotta keep some surprises for opening night.
So I fall into the well bolstered seat, press the light and somewhat springy down all the way before spinning the Camry-spec key in its barrel. With a slight cough, the engine rumbles to life, a distinctly unrefined rattle and clatter emitting from under the hood. Oh God. It sounds like an angry commercial vehicle, not the sewing machine-smooth sports car I was expecting.
I absolutely adore it.
Whoa, hold your horses there Giado. Despite that sign, nobody gets through that gate without the (friendly) security guard first receiving his all-important gate pass. Luckily, Nadeem slipped it into my hands and I didn’t do my usual thing of crumpling up pieces of paper and tossing them into the nearest trash can. Gate pass gratefully given, it’s time to go. My first corner awaits.
Time to hit the open road and go find some adventure.
Or more importantly, a SALIK tag.
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