The car costs more than any house I’ve ever lived in.
“Touch it,” the dapper salesman tells me. “Touch it!”
He’s talking about the part of the car where your feet are supposed to plop. You know, the part where there’s usually an ugly rubber mat. Instead, my hand touches what appears to be a blanket made from the wool of lambs bred only to swaddle my toes.
We’re sitting in a Rolls-Royce Ghost in a showroom in Sterling, Va., and apart from the salesmen — excuse me, “client executives” — I’m the only person in the room. Shouldn’t we be concerned that there are no actual customers here? The salesmen smile. This is a Rolls dealership, they remind me.
The Rolls-Royce is not really a “car” so much as “the king of cars,” one owner later tells me. “The epitome of cars.” “The car of cars.” A new Rolls costs nearly half a million dollars, so selling just a handful a month will more than pay the bills. And in Washington there are plenty of government contractors, business executives, athletes and embassy officials ready to spoil themselves. But these aren’t people who just stroll in and window shop. They send someone. They know what they want. Most of the time, they buy their custom-detailed cars over the phone.
The Rolls is everything that Washington is: traditional, expensive, tailored to the powerful. It makes sense that it would be in high demand here. When I run my fingers over the floor cushion made of clouds, I get it. But to be honest, this is the first Rolls I’ve seen in real life. If Washington’s elite love these cars, why don’t they drive them around?
There’s a very Washington answer to that, too.