Thursday 10 September 2009

Getaway

Transmission Starts...

It's an undisclosed date, time and place.
The trees are still and the air heavy. A Renault Sport Clio Cup 172, driven by The Mechanic, bites hard on the English air. We overtake desperately...

"Let me take you round the lanes" he'd said.

I'd had a short go in the 172. I'd found it to be a revelation. I could actually feel the front axle moving around in my hands. The steering was brilliant, the engine, eager and sonorous. I'd feared an over rated, uncomfortable cardboard box. True, the Renault is no solid German but it's better then you think. True, the last Clio I'd driven had felt odd, somehow perching you on top of the car instead of inside it.
But the 172...
The 172 was comfortable, the ride wasn't too hard, the gearbox, although slightly vague didn't suffer from French pudding syndrome. In other words it didn't feel like I was stirring porridge. Even though it didn't have ABS or any sort of electronic aids I was sure we would be ok.
Thus;

Rule No. 002 - Safety Is Absolutely Coupled To Feel

After promised lanes an over eager exit from town had met a 330d in police livery coming the other way. After I'd sent my friend down a dead end drive way we'd exited and cooled off. We'd turned back and got on it again. We'd met the 330d again. The 172 providing the extension to his strength, The Mechanic had hurled us down the road towards lanes unclassified.
"We'll be fine" I'd assure.
"We'll be reported" I'd schizophrenically added.
Later, the Renault ticking at the side of the road, I'd asked the more mundane questions. The answers, 35-40 mpg, no major trouble, totally reliable, had told me all I needed to know. I want one. I want one badly. Perhaps not badly enough to get chased around though...

Transmission Ends....




Friday 4 September 2009

Bank Job

Transmission Starts...

Of course you know that the thumpa-thumpa of those Imprezas that cruise around town and city centre one-way systems on this island Britain is artificial. It's all in the exhaust lengths you see. What's important though, what's important is that it is easily discernible.
When that thumpa-thumpa turned into a loud snarl then a popping on the overrun I knew what was being chased. Police sirens flooded the distant night but our man (or woman) in his (or her) Impreza was doing a good job of keeping the fuzz at bay. I could hear him (her) snarl down the Lansdown road, pop and crackle down the gears before screeching around the roundabout at the top of Montpelier.
Of course they'd get him in the end. Once the police became airborne he'd (she'd) be done for. That turbo flat-four would glow so fiercely that any old idiot with heat sensitive goggles would see him. Plod in a whirly-bird would have no trouble at all.

So we live in a world of CCTV and helicopters. So we live in a world of GPS. Putting all of that to one side though, imagining all of these things did not exist, that it was still driver -vs- driver,
What
Would
I
Choose?
something big of course. Something big enough to ram a police spec X-5 or Range Rover. Something fast, something high and 4WD. Something able to cross a field but shoot down a motorway.
I'm gonna rule out the police choice afore mentioned SUV's. The baddies never drive the same vehicle as the goodies. That is not how it is written. Porsche is out. I got drunk the other day and kicked one as hard as I could. No criminal damage. To solid. A case made you might think, but I hate the things. Case closed, I think.
That leaves the BMW X6 M. Almost as offensive as the Porsche, but not quite. The new bimmer has the guts and the glory. Imagine coming across a road block of 330d's and Volvo T-5's. Imagine putting your foot down and listening to the growl of a 547bhp twin turbo V8 marshaling near as damn it 2.4 tons of German battering ram. Imagine the patrol car's engine bay spread over the carriage-way as you roar off into the night. It's everything you need. Everything you need for a bank heist.
The man who lives at the tip of my home road, however, is not a bank robber. He does live in a world of GPS, CCTV and helicopters. He doesn't need a 2.4 ton four seater that does an average of 16 mpg. He simply trundles around in it, kids in the back.
Fool.

Transmission Ends...

Wednesday 26 August 2009

Blurry Fantasies

Transmission Starts...

True, the last few days had been a blur. I couldn't work out what was real. I'd definitely been on the drink, I definitely had to make a quick exit from a pub when I'd been critical of the BNP, I'd definitely missed a meeting at work.
"Crap" I'd muttered on the phone.
"I guess I'll see you soon" I stammered to the Wolf. Crap.
Crap, crap, crap, crap.
On the plus side I'd found the missing radio code for the WolfSled.
On the plus side I'd managed to meet my bills this month.

Silly fantasising had led me to Autotrader.co.uk.
How about an E36 320i for £500?
How about a Ford Puma for £1500?
How about a Saab 9-5 3-litre V6 for £2000?
Further dreaming found a 1973 Alfa-Romeo GTV Voloce coupe in barn condition for £500. Imagine what a car looks like after it's been torched. Imagine that being done to the above.
Still, a minter can be worth 20,000 Sterling's or more. Shame I don't have a chassis jig spare,
or a garage going.
No matter,
oil checked in the Panzer Wagon and a distant sense that I really should spend some money on her had led me back to reality.
Money, it's all about the money...

Transmission Ends...

Saturday 22 August 2009

Abarth 500

Transmission Starts...

Right, here we go. Sometimes things just don't flow. No reflection on the car reviewed in this here entry, but, well.... I just couldn't get this one together.
Judge for yourself...

It's quite feasible that if I had 14 thousand or so sterling's I would march right now into a Fiat dealership and exchange them for an Abarth 500. I say Abarth, of course, because there isn't a single Fiat badge to be found on the little ball of fun.
Save the window stamps.
And possibly the engine.
But these are details. After all, if you were to peer underneath the bonnet of a Nissan 300ZX you would find Mitsubishi logo's all over the electronics.
Anyway;
Reservations first. I simply cannot get comfortable in the damn thing. The steering wheel is either too far away or the pedals are too close. Not great for easy town driving, then.
Out on the motorway the 500 is boisterous and beset with wind noise. Not great for long distances, then.
Out in the countryside, Y junctions will confuse and irritate, bikers will be invisible and surprising. The Fiat, ahem, Abarth may have a 5 star NCAP crash rating but you'll need it, the rear three quarter visibility simply doesn't exist. Not great for active safety, then.
Crap.
Things aren't looking good for the little (bugger it) Fiat, then.
Right, so what of the positives? What can rescue this car, and more importantly this review from its monstrously large lack of continuity?
How about this;
I Love The Way It Feels.
It wants to be driven,
it wants to go fast, it wants to be appreciated.
It has soul, vim, it is fizzy, funny and light. If ever there was a car that deserves to be given a pet name or referred to as 'she', this is it. The steering (weird town mode aside) is communicative. Indeed, there is something about this car that I can't quite land a digit upon. This is something that I look for in all machines. It has something. Something alive about it.
Damn it!
That's not enough is it? The logical positivist in me hates things like this, but they exist. The Fiat/Abarth 500 has something extra, it contains passion. It is not without its faults but it has my heart and that counts for so much more than the crushing ability of an Audi S4, or the well built reliability of a Toyota. Passion is the very reason I write about machines. It is what gets me up in the morning. For that, despite the incoherence of the 500, I'll take one.
When I have the money to do such a thing, that is.
That is when passion starts paying the bills effectively.
yea.

Transmission Ends...


Thursday 20 August 2009

The Next Chapter

Transmission Starts...

And so, now to talk about that elephant in the room, that gorilla from (or in) the corner.

Yes indeed, we come around to Top Gear, that corner of entertainment on a Sunday, that reason for getting excited about the i-player, that reason why I get teary when I watch the Eurofighter take on the Veyron, why I get emotional when slow pans take in the form of a Pacific class locomotive or the curvy hip line of a Bentley Brooklands. For many it can do no wrong.
'Make Jeremy Clarkson Prime Minister!' shout the mob. Let him take us back to those dewy eyed days, those rose tinted times.
For Mr Clarkson lives in a world where transportation and indeed these vehicles that exceed transportation, those vehicles that hold dreams together, those cars that are woven with the passion of a nations culture or of a single minded engineers dreams, Mr Clarkson lives in a world where those dreams are under threat.
Under threat by road pricing, under threat by bureaucracy in Brussels, under threat from speed cameras, and satellite tracking, from limits and the relentless march of the climate change lobby. He can see no alternative but the end of passionate bellowing power to the people cars. Indeed he made this clear in his review of the Aston Martin Vantage V-12.
Usually a man of many words we were treated to a choral Autumn ending inspired soundtrack, a soundtrack that can and will bring a tear to the eye, a soundtrack that graced that visual master piece, Sunshine.
His review was quietly spoken, withdrawn, set on a road of thought, it was his lament. This is all going to end he says. No more will we see the like of these almost pointless pieces of automotive art.
Well?
What do you think?
Do you feel abandoned by this sentinel of car culture, this creative writer who brings joy in his words?
Well?
How about a different way?
How about an AutoEclectic way?
How about going to fill up your car but not feeling guilty about where the fuel has come from?
How about new forms of drama over the bark of a flat plane crank or 12 pistons dancing with 48 valves in a whirl of fire and old ideas. How about the dream of Bangle, how about the drama of entering a slip-road, accelerating for the Motorway and the whole car changing shape around you? How about having a car that doubles as a power station. How about going home and using your vehicle to make a meal for your family, to surf the Internet, to have a hot shower in the morning?
Of course, you could say that all of this could sound anodyne. Sure, there's drama in dynamics,sure there's hope in a more efficient, more socially responsible power network but what of fun? What of the sounds?
To this I retort, I cry from the seat of my vehicle, you have underestimated the consumer! You have underestimated the engineer! People will always want fun cars, people will always want an aspirational device to be seen in. Just look at the hum-drum hatchback market. Why would you ever bother to make a Clio or Focus less efficient, noisier or slightly impractical.
Why indeed does the Renault Sport Clio 197 or Focus RS exist? Why did Renault go a bit nuts and put a stripped Megane on the market with plastic windows? Why did it cost allot more for allot less? How did they sell them all strait away?
It is because, people, consumers, individuals and groups will always want fun, will always want drama and performance and elegance and status.
It has been said that the car is the marketing mans dream, that it represents the pinnacle of the consumer ideal. I believe it will carry on doing so. I believe that the Aston Martin of tomorrow will continue to be beautiful to behold, will continue to have great performance, will continue to have drama to its name. It doesn't matter what its powered by or how its limited. It is the dream of freedom that will not die.
No
Not here. Not now.
No.

Transmission Ends...

Saturday 8 August 2009

Japanese Dream

Transmission Starts...

Today, I write from Rockingham race track. We've been in the presence of real automotive passion. All of the cars that roll off of the particular production line in question are created equal. One of them was destined to receive special bespoke treatment from a special bespoke tuner. Today that vehicle was given to Car to play with.
The creator of the tuned, bespoke, semi-trackday special eyes up Car's long-term Focus RS.
"Good for the price" he sums up. Sort of says it all really...

Transmission Ends...

Friday 31 July 2009

Love and Hate

Transmission Starts...

Of note, this last week, two things have raised their shiny little heads. One endeared me to the PanzerWagon, the other distanced me again.
It was a hot day this last Thursday and my folks had become embroiled in some sort of running race. With a head full of support the PanzerWagon was given the job of transporting myself and The Charity Worker to The Halfway in Box. As I climbed in and set the ventilation system to open and indeed cold I found that the electric windows had failed. Trying the sunroof (it's still not fixed, but it does at least make a noise) taught me that it must be part of the same circuit. A blown fuse I thought. We'll just have to sweat it I thought. Suffice to say we did.
Anyway, the race was run, Mum had a little happy cry and all was emotional. Upon climbing back in the PanzerWagon I had tried the window's for the 19th time (I like to make sure) and low, behold they worked. Irritating, yes, but also endearing. Sort of in the same way an Italian car/bike makes you feel. Sort of Damn! but arrr....
Now for that other thing. I was in a rush, it had rained and I was heading down a curved slip-road onto the M5. Suddenly the techni-colour view of the world from my seat of driving seemed to shift to the right.
Curious I thought.
Then, Woop!
The backend had stepped out. At 70mph. No warning, no feel. Through a small amount of beginners luck and a lot of experience of near missis on motorbikes I was able to apply the correct amount of, er, correction. The front wheels, once pointing in the right direction were able to pull the back end out of its little adventure. I wonder what would have happened had I been in a rear wheel drive car? Pissed me off, that did. Feel is absolutely coupled to safety.
Could that be rule No. 2?

Transmission Ends...