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...

Salesman

Transmission Starts...

Full A type service including MOT - £209 - Cha-Ching!

Alloy refurb - £150 - Cha-Ching!

Body work scuffs removed - £150 - Cha-Ching!

Kompressor Badge - £25 - Cha-Ching!

Bonnet strut - £64 - Cha-Ching!

My goodness, this sales business is beginning to get rather expensive.

-THIS IS A WOLFSLED UPDATE-

With all the particulars done and only the private plate to sort out, the SLK is (at last) ready for market. Where to sell though? Ideas of sending our bar manager out with a sandwich board, or The Wolf's blond, blue eyed and gymed boyfriend out, naked, except for a price covering his genitals have long been laughed to death. A combination of Auto-trader, local papers and supermarket notice boards should do the trick, but with The Figures Mans' scrappage scheme tearing large holes in the second hand car market the book price has become null and void. Bugger.

What's that?

Oh yes!

Of course!

How did the service etc go?

Well, rather well. Robin Lamb was polite, friendly and efficient. The price was good and he was able to fit in (on the planned service day) an MOT with actually no notice. Only black mark involved a sticking roof which Mr Lamb insisted needed a cheap part that involved expensive labour. WD40 would Not do the trick insisted Mr Lamb. The Wolf dismissed it and had me do it anyway.

The Wolf was right. Roof fixed minus £200 labour.

Cheers.

Anyway, for the time being the WolfSled looks and feels good. All I have to do is convince somebody else of that fact.

Transmission Ends...

Ramblin' Man

Transmission Starts...

Indeed I had thought a lot about the GT ability of the PanzerWagon as we had shot from Manchester, through Birmingham and into the soft, warm lands of my everyday.

Indeed again, when she was new, nothing this side of £50,000 (in today's money) worth of car would have felt more quiet, more solid.

I had kept my right foot in roughly the same position on the accelerator. I had let the inclines, the declines do the talking. A 307 had dueled with us. For my part I had just kept my foot in the same place. Perhaps he was doing the same but he did seem to be taking more than a passing interest in toying with the big green German. Later a police rider joined via a slip road. I hung back a little. The 307 steamed ahead using the rider as a gauge to how fast he could go. He did get a little too close though. After the rider had left our company I had let the speed build slowly, no urgency. The 307 had again steamed off. 20 minutes later flashing lights on the hard shoulder came into focus as our friend the 307 was pulled over. A sign, I thought. Of course, I backed off a bit...

Today I was given an hour in an S4. The supercharged V6 would never feel underpowered. Never would you want for comfort or any type of a gadget. Never would you complain that it was a stressful car to drive. I found it so unstressed, in fact, that I could have easily driven it all day.

The inevitable run down the Slad Road produced no tom-foolery. I was happy to cruise in a low gear. The sequential semi-auto double clutch S-Tronic thing with paddles was semi-fun. Very quick changes, bit of blipping on the down changes.

Really though, at the bottom of everything, considering the mood, the soul of this car, I don't think I could justify spending the extra on tax/fuel/tyres over the 3 litre TDI...

Yea.

I'll stand by that.

Transmission Ends...

Bavarian Motor Works

Transmission Starts...

Shark nosed and big bonneted, the Z4 arrives, Morgan Man at the helm. We tip-toe down the street, park up out of the flow, have a look around, take in the shape, the purpose. I'm a bit nervous. This is a brand new optioned to the nines 50,000 pound car.

I climb in, I take the wheel. The bonnet seems to go on forever. I press the electronic hand (finger) brake and pull off. The transmission is heavy. So far, so masculine.

We leave Spa Cheltenham behind and climb out of the Severn flood plain and into the Cotswold hills. She pulls strongly, the smaller turbo warming the larger not giving any hint of lag. Later we spend 5 minutes trying to find them. Try bottom left, deep down next to the main block.

Back to the past though...

We head over the Air Balloon roundabout, I mash the pedal in 5th, again hoping to catch the 3 litre forced induction six out. It just pulls, builds power satisfyingly. That's the other thing. Having used various TDI's, having driven the supercharged SLK around I was afraid that the signature straight six would feel too linear. No show, all go. That's fine in the Starship Diesel, that's fine in a saloon or estate. Fine in something where drama is not the key component. Not fine in a sports car though. Not fine where you want bellow and interaction . Not fine with memories of hard drinking V8's, of hard driving pretty little things with bad attitudes.

That, of course, is a point within itself. Is the Z4 a sports car? It certainly looks like a sports car. It certainly goes like a sports car, but then so does a 330d estate, so does a Cayenne for that matter. Speed (as time) is relative. No one would argue that this car would give an F355 a damn good fight. No one could argue with BMW that the sport button was put there for those with a passion for track driving. In days of yore you could call a GT a sports car because men with oil on there faces and scarves around their necks would race across Italy and Sicily doing the ton through a thousand miles of wide eyed brilliance. In short they were taking part in a sport.

The Z4 would have done well at that. Apart from the heavy transmission it's very comfortable. That powerful, characterful engine need not be stretched to cover ground quickly. You need never be stressed to cover ground quickly. But those days are gone. This is not a sports car. It is a GT.

Anyway.

Where was I?

Ah yes...

We turn onto the Slad road and I get fleeting chances to use the engine properly. It bellows in the same way all BMW sixes have done for the last thirty years. I will never get tired of that. We head through traffic in Stroud, then up through Rodborough, across The Common, down the 'W' and into Nailsworth. As we leave the valley of my childhood home somebody in a beaten up Ka pulls out in front of us. The brakes work well. Morgan Man talks of the clever standby nature of the braking system. What it must be to be a mechanic these days...

The sun comes out and we pull over. You need to be stationary to lower the roof. The motors do the dance and I get a chance to poke and prod the interior plastics. All feels solid. All is let down by the door bin that feels so cheap I'm almost shocked.

Ha.

Shocked by plastic, now that's decadence.

We push on, head down the hill to Wotton-under-Edge, talk of past misdemeanors, dreams and regrets. As we peel onto the motorway for the run back to Spa Cheltenham I can report the cabin is quiet enough for talking (not shouting) and calm enough for me not to lose the feeling in my scalp.

As we cruise two small boys in a Zafira turn to get a better look, press against the window and point. In the end it was something similar that wins me over.

An overview?

The steering is communicative,the seats are comfy, the engine is marvelous and it handles well.

It does, however feel a little cheap in places, a little too expensive in others (£155 for cup holders!?). Later when we open the bonnet, take in the details, the design, that small boy me becomes enchanted. Although its head is clothed in the obligatory plastic the strait six is not hidden away completely. You can see the steering linkage, you can make out the various parts of the engine bay like some jewel. Like those small boys I'm excited by it.

BMW make cars. They make engines and gearboxes and diffs' and linkages and they are proud of it. Despite the huge numbers of vehicles the Bavarian Motor Works' push out these days they still have a passion for what they do. I admire that. I admire Bangle for the same reason.

I liked the Z4. If you want something a little more visceral try a Porsche Boxster. Although I rather suspect the majority of user-choosers won't be bothered by this...

Transmission Ends.........