Low, long and near-silent, the Camry Hybrid is the sedan this city's hotels send when a guest asks for a car and not a van. The house keeps it as a class of its own, Executive, for a working day in town, a dinner, and an airport in the small hours — hosted by a sarathi of ours, who rides with you.
Two in the rear in comfort; three for a short journey. Your sarathi in front, with the umbrella, the water and the door.
Two large cases in the boot, or three cabin bags; a laptop bag beside you.
A working day in town; a dinner; the airport in the small hours; a guest who would rather sit low than tall.
A guest who asks for a sedan is not asking for a smaller Innova; he is asking for a different kind of car — lower, quieter at speed, with the ride of a saloon and the hybrid that makes no sound at a signal. The Camry costs a house roughly what a Fortuner costs, and every honest card in this city prices it that way. So the house gives it a class of its own, Executive, with its own figure on the rate card: above the Innova Crysta and the Hycross, below the Fortuner, and never a surprise.
What comes with every car of the house: cleaned that morning and cooled before you reach it, sealed water, a charger for your phone, an umbrella at the door, and a sarathi who rides with you from the first door to the last. Two hours at the least within the city; the airport at a fixed fare; a day beyond the city as a day. Every figure is on the rate card.
The car. A current-generation Toyota Camry Hybrid in white, pearl, black or silver, on commercial plates with its papers seen, within four years of first registration. If a Camry is not free on the day the house says so and offers the Premium Innova or a Marque saloon, never a lesser car.
Reserve the CamryChoose Executive. The figure is on the rate card.