There is something about a ‘first’. People don’t remember the second man who chimed “hello” over the telephone, or the twelfth person who fiddled with the controls on that newly invented television set, or the three hundred and twenty sixth lucky mortal to feast on the thirty eighth cake that came out of the microwave. I must confess, I do not remember the one thousand and seventeenth time I got stuck in the rains with my beloved M-800; but the first misadventure, now that’s a legendary tale in our family, all baked up and ready to be handed down through the generations.

In an auto journo’s life, generally devoid of significant milestones to brag about at those pyjama parties, the first test drive assumes unparalleled significance. It is to him what the first kiss is to a diehard romantic; what the first puff is to that familiar human chimney which spews out Marlboro smoke at regular intervals.
As I waited with for my first test drive with bated breath, I couldn’t stop my hyperactive imagination from conjuring up images of me sitting in the cockpit of a 600bhp Ferrari, lighting up the tarmac, laying down dollops of expensive Pirelli rubber onto the road. Mr Editor Sir walked into office on bright sunny morning, cheerful as ever, with a piece of good news for me. It was to be my first test drive in a few days time. Where is the Ferrari? Eh, Ferrari? In India, we have the Ambassador.

Fake smiles don't get better than this!!

The optimistic recesses of my intellect were trying hard to overcome the dark, cynical lobes of my mind, which were now threatening to drown me into the depths of despondency. “It is a rear-wheel drive”, Mr Optimistic shouted above the din, “Isn’t that a sure-fire recipe to tail-stepping-out turns and unadulterated fun at the wheel?” Mr. Cheerful was ready with his two-pence, “It’s been selling in India for decades now. There surely has to be something about it”. I could already hear the turbocharger wheezing away to glory as the tyres squealed, struggling to keep up with the prodigious amounts of power that the engine was generating. The optimists’ victory saw me waiting outside the dealer’s with a spring in my step and a broad grin on my face. Out she came, in pristine white, with the majestic air of an old lady who has aged gracefully, Botox shots notwithstanding.

This is the Ambassador Grand ’05. In keeping with Hindustan Motors’ recent strategy of launching a new Ambassador every year, we have an all-new machine for the new year, ‘all-new’ being the keyword there. For starters, the Grand ’05 gets some much-needed grunt under the hood. In come a turbocharger and an intercooler, boosting total power output of the 1995cc Isuzu engine to 75PS. All the new gadgetry makes it less harsh to the plants and trees, this one being Bharat Stage III compliant. It gets new clear-lens headlamps, integrated body coloured bumpers, and full wheel caps. On the inside, it gets beige colouring all through – beige dashboard and steering wheel, light brown fabric upholstery for the seats, and jarring black seatbelts. Power windows, power steering, day-night rear view mirror, central locking and even a rear seat armrest can not compensate for the poor fit and finish and the depressingly substandard quality of materials that make up the interior. Attention to detail is abysmal; the car sports different ‘HM’ logos at different places. So while the steering gets the new stylised insignia, the wheel covers, with the old logo, are still time travelling from the nineteenth century. The instrument cluster tries to create a retro-chic aura inside the cabin, a la the Mini Cooper. Alas, failure is imminent.

I turn the key – perhaps the spirited powerplant will make up for the disappointment thus far. More disappointment! The engine lets out a mighty roar. It does not take me long to figure out that it is roaring about poor NVH levels and not eager horses under the bonnet. The car is sluggish, with such a noticeable turbo lag that it’ll take some cajoling before it manages to overtake the pesky cyclist who is defiantly riding in the middle of the road. The disenchantment is magnified many times over owing to the fact that I had started out with as much expectation as is evident in a stadium full of Bangladesh cricket team supporters.

The engineers at Hindustan Motors have made little change to the underlying setup of the Ambassador. I am talking about changes over the last few decades, mind you. So, even though you surely will not get earth-shattering performance, pinpoint handling, or futuristic looks (err…you won’t even get nineteenth century looks, we’re sorry), you will be blessed with the Amby’s inherent strengths. Not a difficult job listing them down, because there aren’t too many. In fact, only two come to mind – an almost surreal ability to gobble up massive potholes without as much as a burp, and technology so outdated that it can be repaired at any roadside workshop.
It is time the wise men at HM shook themselves out of the colossal time warp that seems to have enveloped them. It’s time to stop selling the same old car under a different garb every year. It is time to wake up to a world where ‘new’ means much more than a redesigned headlamp.

Perhaps it is time to knock ‘first’ off its pre-eminent position of significance in history. Perhaps HM can pull of a memorable ‘second’ that will be remembered much more fondly than the ‘first’ ever was. Perhaps...just perhaps.