One of the most beautiful cars automotive engineers have made is called a Bugatti Veyron.I haven’t set my eyes on one of these cars yet because I live in Africa and we are still figuring out how to feed our poor masses,so seeing a one million dollars car this sides is something rare.If you are still wondering about that exorbitant price tag,let me also care to remind you that it translates to a whooping one hundred million plus Kenya shillings.This is the point where typical Africans like myself would be asking themselves,Why the hell on earth would someone splash all that cash on a car?
Let’s say you are a car enthusiast,and you are already psyched up because you think I am about to dive into the details of that car,perhaps tell you more about its horse power,its engine and fuel consumption,I am sorry to break your heart but cars are not my area of specialization(Unless they are Bugatti’s of course.)But stick with me for a moment because I am about to bring into the picture an even more interesting subject.Lets talk about women,because after all,women and beautiful cars easily complement each other. Wouldn’t you agree?
If I gave you a million dollars under the condition that you were to buy a Bugatti,I am so sure you would be among the happiest lot of men left in the world.And believe me, there exists a very tiny percentage of happy humans because this thing called life is not necessarily here to put a smile on your face.On the contrary, life is here to kick you so hard in your butt.Now that you have your buggatti and an ear to ear smile on your big face,lets assume your wife was not so happy with your decision to buy such an expensive car because you didn’t tell her it was a gift from me.So she assumed you bought the car from your daughter Sally’s (Sally is still in class one) University savings.
Women being women,she gets psychotic and mad all of a sudden and she decides to hammer down the car’s windshield which costs approximately fifty thousand US dollars just to make a point.As though that is not enough,she goes and fetches some leftover paint from the store that you used for last year’s Christmas decoration and smears it mercilessly over the amazing hundred thousand US dollar paint job on the Bugatti.You come back home from work in your humble Toyota Vitz because you couldn’t afford to fuel the Bugatti even though you just pocketed your salary the previous day.Your manly instincts tells you to go greet the car in the garage first before you say hi to the missus and your little Sally.
The Vitz has been stripped of its honour and it now spends the lonely nights in the chilly cold because the Bugatti stole its home.Since you also knew you couldn’t afford the operational costs of the car,you had found yourself a wealthy jamaa from Kitusuru,probably a Tenderpreneur to hook you up with several millions for the car.So you hurriedly left the bar where you struck a deal with the him(the Tenderpreneur) so that you rush home and take cool pictures of the car then shoot the pictures to him on whatsapp.To your surprise,you enter the garage to find that your amazing,custom made black Bugatti had been turned into a zebra by the white paint your wife smeared on it.You can even see her fingerprints visibly marked on the paint
She even wrote you are very cool message on the side of the car(BUGGATTI-you have to specify,because such a car cannot be simply referred to as a car) using the white paint,the message read something close to this;“YOU ARE SPENDING NIGHT ON THE COUCH”…..Oops,sorry about that folks,the CAPSLOCK key got stuck. You think her silly because your cheap mind-set tells you that the paintjob is something that can easily be fixed by the juakali boys who work on your Ka-Vitz.But you open your mouth wide in amusement when you realise the windshield has been broken into a billion pieces. This is the part where your African instincts kick in,you remember your grandfather’s advice and his ancestors before him,that as a married man you have to be stern in your household.So you gather all the little strength left in your muscles especially your vocal muscles and you yell….”NJERI NITAKUMALIZA LEO,AKI UNARUDI KWENU.”…something is wrong with my CAPSLOCK comrades.
You enter the house,under all that anger and frustration you wrestle your wife down.You deal her some serious Undertaker WWE championship blows because you have been wanting to do that for a very,very long time and today happened to be that day.After the usual three taps,by the referee,who in this instance is your little Sally,you find some shred of humanity in your heart and you let her be. After allits just a Bugatti right???
You then decide to pick up your phone and call me.You narrate all the drama that ensued and ask me whether I could help you tow the car to the nearest JuaKali mechanic the following day for some repairs.This is the part where I break your heart even more.I tell you,”Bro,you know the thing about Bugattis is that,all repairs have to be made in there authorized workshops,if you are serious about repairing it,we would have to call the company’s agents who would come and ship the car to Europe for repairs in there warehouse.’’Then the phone hangs up because you are both in shock and out of credit.The polite safaricom lady is now busy reminding you to either redeem Bonga points or OkoaJahazi.At this point,you wonder how things could get so sour for you and you decide to slap your already weeping wife the last one.Youknow,one for the road.
Since I don’t advocate for violence against women,we can say the Bugatti story is bull**t.But for a moment,assume that the Bugatti was a woman,the windshield was a woman’s breasts and the Bugatti’s paintjob was a woman’s skin.The engineer who made the Bugatti is God,and the warehouse where this bugatti’s are repaired was heaven.And the wife is a plastic sergeon.When you sum all these assumptions together,any bright mind would quickly formulate the following hypothesis.
God created a woman so beautifully,the same way the engineer created and designed his Bugattimodel.So precious and valuable you are as a woman that God attached a very hefty price tag to you because he spent his precious time,resouces and skills in moulding you into that amazing masterpiece of a woman that you are.He even painted you black because in his wisdom God knew that black would be a colour that beautifies you and makes you so much covetable.He then gifted you with amazing breasts on your chests because God knew someday your breast would feed a future baby.The same way an engineer fits windshields in the front of the Bugatti so that the driver can see what happens in front of the car.
Thewife,who is the plastic surgeon,painted the black Bugatti with white colour because she was used to the colour of their cheap vitz.Same way some women decide to mess up there amazingly wonderful melanin by applying some skin lightening comestics.They then go ahead to resize the sizes of their breasts and buttocks because they think the bigger these sexual organs are the more beautiful they are.In the processes of surgery they end up messing there organs just the same way the wife broke the Bugatti’s windshield.Soon they have to be shipped back to some specialized warehouse for repair but since they are not cars like the Bugatti,sometimes they face the ultimate fate,death.You don’t mess up with an engineer’s work if you didn’t help create the designs.So they go to meet the creator in heaven.And for what?Just because you needed bigger buttocks.So when I heard the sad story of the late…………….may her soul rest in peace,I was so disheartened.And I couldn’t stop but wonder,why would you want to be a Toyota vitz when you were made a Bugatti.