"You like black, don't you?"

It was obviously one of her 'leading' questions but the simplicity belied much deeper meaning, far beyond my threshold of reasoning. Recognising a leading question is one thing, but actually having a clue as to where it's leading to, is another.

We were having our annual day-trip to Chaeng Wattana immigration to renew my annual visa extension. I'd actually been down there the day before to get my bank statements sorted and ask for the very latest list of document requirements. I knew this level of preparation was a waste of time but I performed the same ritual every year, knowing that when I finally sat in front of the immigration officer, they would not be happy with something, or 'needed' an extra piece of paperwork or copy that would send me scuttling into the basement of the vast building to the photocopy shop in the midst of the mini-mall and eateries down there that served the thousands of daily staff and poor saps, like me, trying to sort out their legal status in Thailand.

The wife doesn't do sitting around too well so while we were waiting for ticket number A174 to be called, she went off to partake in the Official Thai national pastime, eating, as I sat twiddling my thumbs and constantly flicking through the piles of originals, and copied documents on my lap.

The clock ticked by....

"A171 to counter 36"

We were close, but sadly it was 11.55pm which meant I wasn't going to be called before lunchtime and sure enough, right on the stroke of 12, everything stopped. The immigration staff left their positions and we were all thrown out of the offices to wander around until 1pm when we would all be allowed back in to continue the wait.

Yes, this is Thailand and everything stops for lunch!

I went downstairs where the masses of hungry government officials and pissed off foreigners were queuing for food to find the wife sat there happily crunching on a dead, deep fried whole fish which is when the fateful words were uttered...

"Black what?" was the best I could retort...

"Well you know how you said you would never buy a car in Thailand because they all drive like clueless fucking idiots and as you weren't allowed to do that thing with your fingers and shout 'you fucking wanker' at everyone in case you got shot or stabbed and the the roads are shit but were going to buy an old pick-up truck for a few months to carry stuff up and down to Samui..."
(In written Thai, there is no punctuation, or spaces between words so Its not my awful writing, I've written it like this for authenticity!)

"I wasn't 'going to' I was thinking about it...what the fuck have you done?"

The immigration lady at the next table cast me a disparaging glance. The way my day was going, it might be the very same lady that I'd be sat in front of begging to be allowed to stay in an hour or two...

"Well, Mitsu were having a little display and they had a special offer of 25% deposit and 0% over 4 years...they NEVER do interest free credit here, so I just thought I'd check whether I was eligible"

This was actually true, credit terms on anything in Thailand carry an astronomical APR and my mood lightened slightly, knowing that despite her being self-employed, a licensed medical professional and never owing anything to anyone, she'd only just become, err, officially self-employed two years ago, there was no way she was getting credit, she'd had to leave a deposit just to get a credit card.

"Ahh never mind darling, we'll just get an old scrapper 2 seater pick-up so we don't have to give anyone a lift, then we'll sell it when we're done with it before all the family want to start borrowing it!"

"We pick it up on Friday. You'll love it, its got 7 seats but you can take all the ones in the back out and it will be just like a van, and I know you miss your van don't you? They're going to put the darkest black film on all the windows too, for free and give us some car mats."

It was pointless asking what she'd actually bought or how much it cost by this time as we walked back to the stairs to rejoin the queues but we did walk past the 'Mitsu' display of new cars which included a white version of the 'Xpander' she'd just bought. The two sales folks were chowing down on the expensive sushi that only comes on the back of a gullible customer successful sale and as we passed, he smiled and wai'ed 🙏 , the deep wai where the thumbs almost disappear up the nostrils that's normally reserved for monks or royalty.

I've mentioned many times that the Thais have an innate ability to turn even the most simplest process into one of epically complex proportions and so buying a car was no exception.

On Thursday, she got a call from the dealership asking what numbers she wanted on the registration and they spent over an hour discussing birthdays, holy days, time and date of birth before settling on 5253 which even now, I can't quite work out how even though the wife did explain some complex binomial mathematics on how they arrived at the figures. As for picking it up on a Friday, that's the day she was born.

I thought it prudent not to mention that the start of the house build was also started on the back of some voodoo numerology nonsense and even with the help of filling the foundations with my dad's ashes and various other deceased family members hair and nail clippings as well as paying for a dozen monks to turn up on the night of a full moon to chant mumbo jumbo for an hour didn't stop that project going to shit!

At 5pm on Friday, we turned up at 'Mitsu' Pak Kret full of excitement / reticence depending on whose narrative you're following.

I haven't been in an English car showroom for years and I haven't missed the smarmy middle-aged sales people in cheap, ill fitting suits and beer bellies licking my arse spouting endless bollocks, and that's just the ladies, and the Thai showroom was exactly the same except with added weasliness. Old Sushiface and his partner were there to greet us armed with bottles of water, 'bread' filled with slushy green custard and hands wai'ing like they'd just had an accident with a tube of superglue.

While the wife sat down, I wandered out to look at the wife's steed and give it the once over and was greeted by a scuffed door sill, small chip out of the plastic grill and worse of all, the paint finish around the door frames was akin to orange peel. Black cars show up every mark.

Most people would have been distraught but I only saw opportunity...

I walked back inside, trying to look suitably annoyed and the wife and Sushi chops looked up.
"What's wrong, baby?"
"The finish on that car is dreadful." I tried to grimace but I'm sure I was smiling but it mattered not as she leapt from the chair and rushed outside swiftly followed by Sushi chops.

She rubbed her finger up and down the area I indicated and BOOM! She was on one of her greatest untypical Thai rants ever. Everyone looked around and within seconds there were at least 10 people from various departments rubbing their fingers up and down the paintwork as the wife continued her Thai tirade.

The manager came rushing out and the staff stood in fearful silence as she extended her finger, and peered closely at the offending area of paintwork...

BOOM2! The staff went into 'wai' overdrive and there were more 'khraps' than a flock of dysentery riddled seagulls as the big red bow and floral displays were hurriedly removed and car speedily driven off the pick-up ramp to the safe haven of the workshops as the manageress screamed out instructions before turning to the wife who for the first time ever, had to admit defeat in the ranting department.

My work here was done. There was no way the wife was going to buy anything from them now...

On Sunday afternoon, at 4pm prompt, Sushichops turned up at the house in a huge people carrier and drove us back to the showroom where I was led to another black, Xpander stood outside, huge bow on it's bonnet and surrounded by floral displays and try as I may to find anything of note, it was immaculate.

Xpander Number 2!

"It's been glass-coated and they've given us a car-cover, full tank of petrol and vouchers to cover the cost of oil when we bring it for free servicing." The wife happily gushed.

"That's great darling." I belatedly replied before we were led inside to a table to sign the forms, transfer the deposit with a quick swish of a QR code end enjoy another plateful of green custard filled bread cakes washed down with Mitsubishi branded bottles of water as dozens of staff loitered strategically watching to gauge our reactions. It seems no one ever had refused a car before and the foreigner was being viewed with a mix of suspicion and inquisitiveness...

The Handover

We went back outside and were given basic instructions on the keyless ignition before it was photo time. It's Thailand so naturally the whole process had to be turned into an event so it was photo time...

So from left to right we have the Manager, the wife, weasley Sushichops who from his attire appears to have been demoted from salesman to cleaner and holding a bouquet for the wife and the car's most important safety feature and finally his Tik-Tok queen assistant carrying two plastic bags containing takeaway meals from Fuji, a famous Japanese food chain.

If I'd have been as clever as I think I am, I could have had them stitch '40' onto the ribbon and saved myself a few quid when it's the wife's birthday in a couple of months time.

It was time to go home. The blacked out windows, which I didn't want but was told 'everyone has' in Thailand managing to block 90% of my already dreadful vision and the 10km trip took over a blurred hour in the traffic that always made me refuse point blank to drive a car here as the wife sat happily trying to work out how to mirror screen the latest Korean drama onto the in-car display. Sweet joy.

The Main Safety Feature?

The blessed garland to hang from the rear-(blacked out) view mirror that will protect us from becoming a statistic of the world's 3rd worst country for road fatalities...

They appeared to forget the pick-up date had changed from a Friday to a Sunday so I hope the bloody thing works!

So until the first payment is due, and having the perfect tool at my disposal, it seems I will fit in quite well as a drug dealer...

Happy wife, happy life...as they say in Thailand.

PS We then had the problem of squeezing it in to the front yard of a two-up, two-down in the Bangkok suburbs...

"You could sell your motorbike baby..."
"I could divorce my wife..." I whispered ever so quietly...