EMISSIONS:AS THE New Year approaches, doubtless some of you wonderful people are contemplating buying a new car. Personally, I think only drug dealers, Lotto winners and the financially incontinent buy new cars with their own money. But then, I'm a penniless oik. What know I of such things? writes Kilian Doyle
Therefore, if you are about to splash the cash, fire ahead and pay me no heed.
I would, however, implore you to hear me out on one thing. Don't render your car worthless before you even buy it. Remember that one day you'll have to sell it.
Ruminating on this topic, I was reminded of the footballer Stephen Ireland, an odd fish who paid Range Rover customising company Overfinch to pimp his ride.
Pink leather everywhere. Pink wheels. Pink grille. It is eye-poppingly grotesque.
"What was he thinking?" I asked my long-suffering editor.
"Thinking?" retorted he, incredulously. "This is Stephen Ireland. Don't you read the papers?"
Good point, well made, said I. In fairness, Ireland did it to raise awareness of breast cancer.
Granted, being a Premiership footballer who earns more filthy lucre in a week of running round in his pants than a Chinese coalminer will earn in a lifetime of hard graft, Ireland probably doesn't have to worry about resale values.
But you do. So be mindful when you're ticking boxes on the specifications sheet.
Say you order a custom lilac Porsche Cayman with matching upholstery.
You may stand back, nod proudly at your reflection in the windscreen and fool yourself that you've spawned a masterpiece. Until you try to find someone who shares your delusion enough to buy it.
Short of paying someone to destroy it so you can claim the insurance money, the truth is you'll never get shot of it, no matter how good a car it is underneath.
It's like taking a grand house in a swanky neighbourhood and replacing all the wallpaper with Zimbabwean banknotes, sticking human femurs where the banisters were, and hanging the tanned hide of culled dioxin-ridden pigs instead of curtains.
You may think it a witty critique of modern culture. But again, you will be alone in your delusion.
Nobody, but nobody, is going to buy it. All right, so I'm exaggerating. But it is a concern. In an age where car values are dropping like stones with elephants tied to them, you have to think ahead. While that sky-blue paintwork and leather interior might look good in the brochure and match your new Manolo Blahniks to boot, when it comes to shifting your car, one look at it will send prospective purchasers running for the nearest bog-standard silver version with grey cloth seats quicker than a cheetah tied to a Scud missile.
You may think bedecking your interior with enough wood and leather to create a life-size replica of the Trojan Horse will give it a classy feel. In reality, it'll make it look like the study where Major-Gen Fortescue-Wittering-Smythe III (Retd.) goes to hide inside a bottle of gin and beat himself about the backside with a copy of Mein Kampf.
Rather than thinking what you'd like, think what the punters want. Not everyone has your creative, individualistic streak.
Most car buyers have the imaginations of amoebas. So think neutral, think safe, think boring.
One final nugget of advice: Whatever you do, stay away from the pink.
And if someone tries to cajole you into dolling your car up in pink livery for charity, bung them a few grand instead. It'll save you a packet in the long run.
Not to mention saving you from the ridicule of millions.