Children and the Rolls-Royce Wraith Black Badge don’t mix

Recently, I had the anxiety-inducing pleasure of driving the Rolls-Royce Wraith Black Badge for a day. As I drove around the suburbs, unashamedly pretending it was in fact mine, it dawned on me that it was time to pick the kids up from school... and that I didn’t have time to go home and swap cars.

Sometimes I get to drive a car that is so outrageously expensive and supremely ostentatious that I feel obliged to take calculated risks, like letting my kids in it. And as the minutes ticked away it was obvious I no longer had a choice: the kids would need to ride home in the Rolls.

As I pulled up at the school gates and ushered my excited brood to the passenger door I began the terms and conditions of their carriage – and every sentence began with ‘don’t’.

“Don’t touch anything,” I asserted. “Don’t step on the sills. Don’t touch the stars in the roof (even though I did). Don’t fart (they did). Don’t blow on the windows. Don’t yell out the window. Don’t put your feet on the seats. Don’t press that button. Don’t open the umbrella. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t!”

It lasted all of a minute… My eight-year-old son was soon yelling “How do you like me now!?” from the passenger-side window, my daughter accompanying with “We won the lottery, people!”

Their rich-list aspirations were quickly shattered by my carsales t-shirt (good one, mum), but the shouting did lead to multiple ‘blockies’ with the neighbours riding shotgun. Seeing the joy on the faces of neighours and friends was nearly worth the years the experience took off my life, the custodianship of such an expensive automobile a nerve wracking experience, to say the least.

On a positive note, neither the kids nor the neighbours broke or dirtied anything. There was no vomiting and no sneaker scuffs, which in my world is a win matched only by a nit-free school week.

And the experience did get me to thinking: Do real-life Rolls-Royce owners feel the same? Are they selective as to who rides shotgun? Are multi-zipped cargo pants allowed on the leather? Is there a ‘shoes off’ policy? Do you eat and drink inside? Does the heavy pendulum of fear and elation ever settle?

They were questions that remain unanswered.

Although I thoroughly indulged in my 360 minutes of fame, it’s fair to say that I’ve never been more cautious behind the wheel; the impact of the earlier signed fine print flashing before my eyes at every intersection: “including, but not limited to, the full cost of the vehicle”.

It was with a quiet sense of relief that I handed back the sizeable key and the crippling responsibility that went with accepting it. It turns out that I’m not quite cut-out for the kind of luxury Rolls-Royce ‘ownership’ affords – at least when it isn’t mine.
Tomorrow’s school run will be a little less stressful.