He didn't need to go 150 miles per hour. He needed a car that wouldn't get dinged by shopping carts, that saved him a fortune at the pump, and that looked like nothing else in the parking lot.
He stood in the dealership lot, looking at the "Airbumps"—those quirky, rubberized panels on the doors. While his brother had urged him to buy a sensible, silver German sedan, Leo was drawn to this: a car that looked like it had been designed by a minimalist architect who also happened to love bubble wrap. car buyer citroen cactus
Leo walked back into the showroom, ignored the brochures for the "sensible" SUVs, and pointed at the Cactus. "This is the one," he said. "The world has enough silver sedans." He didn't need to go 150 miles per hour
The was the car that made Leo feel like he’d finally stopped trying to impress everyone else and started impressing himself. While his brother had urged him to buy
Leo climbed into the driver’s seat. There was no traditional dashboard; instead, there was a digital screen and a glovebox that opened upward like a piece of vintage luggage. The seats weren't "sport-bolstered"—they were wide, flat, and felt like his favorite armchair.