Chapter 3 of 26

The car I bought my wife was capable, not reliable

I bought my wife a Range Rover, and I have regretted that car so much.

It was an expensive car and a strong one, around five hundred and eighty horsepower, something like that, about three times an ordinary family car. You pushed the gas and you felt it. And it broke down for the stupidest reasons. One day the engine light was on. Another day it was something else, and then something else again.

In class I asked for the most reliable car brand, and the answer was Toyota: cheap to maintain, easy to fix, so easy that you can almost do it yourself. I respect Toyota a lot. But did I want to drive a Toyota Corolla? Twenty years ago, maybe. Not now. In class I put it plainly: Range Rover has capability, but it does not have reliability. The Corolla had reliability and less capability, and you could feel that too.

Then my own car was in the shop, and a colleague brought me his Lexus. Lexus is Toyota's luxury brand. I drove it, and I never knew a Japanese car could drive that well. As reliable as Toyota, as capable as Range Rover. It is the car I want next.

Your agent finished a week of work in twenty seconds, and every line of it was right. Your manager asks you: is it reliable now? What do you need to know before you answer?

How often it goes wrong, and how bad the worst time is. Speed is not reliability. Twenty seconds is the horsepower, and one great run tells you about the engine. It tells you nothing about the repair record, and the repair record is reliability: out of a hundred runs, how many failed, and what did the worst one break? The Range Rover was fast every day it ran. The Lexus keeps that engine and builds Toyota's reliability around it. For an agent, the reliability you build around the engine has a name. It is the harness.