Modesty is my Middle Name

So the meeting ends and we both leave the building, the client for a sneaky smoke outside the back door and myself to go to my car.
"Wow. Is the black one yours?" asks the client. My car's parked under the covered awnings behind me to the left.
"Yes," I say, smiling. But I'm perhaps a tad puzzled. I'm quite fond of my wee Pajero, but it's a 4WD and doesn't really tend to attract that many wows. And I detected a hint of envy in the client's wow, too. You know, more of a WOW than a Wow.
"Are you a fan or something?"
"Absolutely. I think they're gorgeous. I'm quite impressed, to tell you the truth!"
By now I'm a little worried. "Well, it gets me from A to B, I suppose," I say, laughing, a little nervously. The client's laughing too in the kind of 'you old dog' rogueish way that people laugh at people who are bullshitting them.
And then I turn towards the covered parking and walk to my car. I have to squeeze past the black Porsche 944 that's parked beside it as I get in.
Daaaammmnnn.