Of Cars Old and New and the Butterfly Effect

Prof. Swaraj shares the woes and wows of owning cars, old and new, with his love for butterflies. Full of sparkling wit and humour, here’s an exclusive for Different Truths.

He was owner of an old Fiat, a vintage jalopy he had purchased second hand. Then, he bought a new Swift. This journey would have made anyone proud barring our quirky English professor. He was known for his love of Shakespeare, Romantic poets, Urdu shayari, old film songs and butterflies.

He loved his beloved car with the conviction, “Love is not love / Which alters when its alteration finds.” It isn’t that his Fiat didn’t trouble him. It made him make frequent trips to mechanics. Thus, making him also a bit of a mechanic in the process. He loved opening the bonnet to check the level of water in the radiator. And of checking the break oil before venturing out anywhere.

Butterfly Valve

Pulling the dipstick out of the engine, he would check the viscosity of the motor oil by rubbing a drop of the oil between his index finger and thumb. He loved his car, warts and all. His love deepened when one day the throttle of his car went haywire. And a mechanic told him that a butterfly valve in the carburettor, which controlled the throttle was to be replaced.

This knowledge gladdened him no end. His beloved car, his butterfly, with a butterfly valve in it to control the speed! What more could he ask of his car! Such was his measure of attachment with his car that sometimes when he went to a garage. He requested the mechanics to allow him to tighten a screw or two. A heavy-handed treatment of his fragile beloved was a strict no go. He had purchased even a tool kit for carrying out minor repairs.

Poetry and Chivalric Romance

Poetry and chivalric romance may underscore the constancy of love. But the fact is that change is the only constant in life. Our Professor’s car was already a collector’s item when he had purchased it. With time, it started looking like a Neolithic relic. Its spare parts not available even with the junk dealers. But the Professor’s affection was steadfast.

With great difficulty did his sons persuade him to let them gift him a new car. Not merely because getting the old one repaired was proving expensive. But also, because he had started smelling of lubricants owing to the time he spent in garages. To him, the recalcitrant odour that clung to him with gluey tenacity was a heady scent of love.

The new swanky Swift – swanky by the standards of his Fiat – arrived. Everyone was happy except the Professor. He was unhappy on many counts. His darling car had been sold off to a junk dealer as scrap. He could not repair the new one as there was nothing to repair.

The Perfume of Love

In fact, the car’s manual warned the owners against attempting any repairs as it would void the warranty. And he was angry why the car manufacturers made cars which their owners could not repair themselves. The Swift lacked the smell of oil and grease. In other words, the perfume of love. In short, it lacked the archaic charm of his Fiat. The Swift was just a machine he drove. But it was not an individual like his Fiat with which he could relate.

One day he found his Swift accelerating even without a step on the pedal. However, having had similar experiences with his Fiat, he thought he had diagnosed the trouble. The source of the problem was surely the erratic butterfly valve.

He drove straight to the company workshop and instructed the young mechanic to open the carburettor. And to repair the butterfly valve in it. The boy looked at him from head to toe as if he was looking at an apparition from the past. And said, “What? What carburettor are you talking about, Uncle? I don’t understand what you are saying?”

Of Carburettor and Butterfly Valve

The poor fellow had not even heard about a carburettor and the butterfly valve. These things had gone out of the cars even before he was born. “Don’t argue, do what I’m asking you. Just repair the butterfly valve.” The Professor’s rasping tone was truly professorial.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about?” the boy repeated.

The Professor was livid with anger at such defiance of his command. An elderly foreman who happened to be passing by arrived on the scene and asked what the issue was. The Professor explained that his car was misbehaving. It was accelerating excessively without even pressing the pedal. And he wanted the butterfly valve in the carburettor to be repaired. A very simple thing which the young mechanic arguing with him was unable to understand.

The foreman understood the whole thing and smiled. “Sir, these news cars are without a carburettor. They come equipped with fuel injectors and the acceleration is controlled by sensors in the throttle hub.”

He was shocked. “Then open the throttle hub to repair the butterfly valve,” he shot back. “Sir, the throttle hub has two sensors only that control the race. Perhaps one of the two needs replacement. Don’t worry, your problem will be solved in half an hour. Since your car is still in the warranty period, the replacement will be done free of cost. What would you like to have, tea, coffee or cold drink?” the foreman replied.

Double Whammy

The Professor would have none of it. He was simply wondering how a car could run without a carburettor and butterfly valve. For a butterfly lover, this was double whammy. He was already pained by the fact that development in the city had swallowed most of the green spaces. And ecological niches of butterflies. And here was this car without a butterfly valve! This was an unmitigated tragedy for him. 

He could do nothing except resign to the patent fact that poetry, romance and butterflies are disappearing from life. His Swift repaired, he left the workshop. He stopped on the way back near a cluster of milkweed plants growing by the roadside. He saw a Plain Tiger butterfly fluttering and laying eggs on a milkweed leaf. Feeling reassured and hopeful, he drove back.

His Swift was a zephyr now.  

Visuals by Different Truths