Too Commercial?

Way hey! It's Christmas everybody. Time to empty our wallets and fill our bellies as we overspend and indulge ourselves on foodstuffs the papers say will probably kill us. And so it will continue until we stagger bleary and blinking into the New Year and straight into a depressing English January. Heavier, poorer and wondering again what all the fuss was about. Deja vu anyone?

It all getting too commercial it's said and I agree but it did give me an idea for the theme of this month's festive scribblings. You see, if we believe what we're told, a big man dressed in red with a long white beard, is going to land on all our roofs in a massive reindeer-drawn sleigh and proceed to stuff himself down the chimney. At the bottom he's going to expertly remove the gas fire and deliver a slew of gifts of varying quality and desirability. As he leaves he'll eat half a mince pie and neck a warming slug of sherry before buggering off to the next house. 

If you multiply that by all the houses he'll visit on Christmas Eve you'll have a man who, even after delivering to a single street, is arguably too pissed to drive any kind of vehicle and has a cholesterol level fit for the Guinness Book of Records.

Then, it dawned on me. Santa's sleigh must be a truly remarkable vehicle. It's able to carry huge loads, is highly manoeuvrable and even with quite some miles on the clock it's very reliable. It's actually the ultimate commercial vehicle. And so it was I came to realise that there’s a whole raft of interesting vehicles, much like Santa's sleigh that will need to do some pretty heavy work to ensure that we're not disappointed this coming yuletide. Vehicles that need to be well-built, tough and dependable but which you won’t find at the average weekend car gathering. These are the unsung commercial vehicles. The workhorses of our everyday lives. 

They do the unglamorous lugging about of people and ‘stuff’ and all without us offering a scintilla of thought about the service they give, the design effort that went into them or the positive, nay essential, contribution they make to our existence. Not only that, but many from the past, like our cherished cars, are now bone-fide classics. So, for a moment, put aside your need for polished chrome, period radios and neatly trimmed interiors and consider briefly this inadequate listing of some of my favourite utilitarian road warriors.

Route Master Bus

The classic Route Master bus, I can just about remember in the early seventies these behemoths, liveried in orange and white, rolling out of the old Stockport bus station. The driver in the half cab at the front and clippie issuing tickets on the passenger decks. They were wide open at the back to allow for last second boarding and alighting of people shopping for their Christmas comestibles. They were designed so that they could be driven on a standard licence by virtually anyone who could drive a car. I can’t see any of it being tolerated nowadays. Issues of security, health and safety, efficiency or danger to the public would all be brought forth. 

And yet, the classic red Route Master bus is an image as quintessentially British as Beefeaters or public drunkenness. It’s estimated some Route Masters had nearly three million miles on the clock before being retired although just how much of them was original by the end is debatable. Nonetheless, these were sturdy vehicles made to last in harsh stop-start use. And what service they gave.

Citroen H Van

Part of me thought this might be one Citroen too many for you given my previous articles but you can’t ignore the fact that the distinctive, ridged H series vans have started to become almost commonplace in the UK.  Most have been converted to fashionable catering vehicles and are appearing in droves at festivals or as retro city-centre pop-up eateries. Indeed, I got flyer for an event recently which gave details of the mobile caterers attending, seventy percent of whom were using H vans.  

Apparently, there’s such an insatiable demand for these vehicles that they can’t be imported from France quick enough. It’s understandable though. This is what these vehicles were designed for: to park up on market day in any given French town and get on with selling. With loads of head room in the cargo bay, a side panel that opens to create a serving counter and bags of space inside for catering equipment and supplies. Love or loathe them they remain a practical and interesting vehicle from which to run a business.

Black Cab

The classic black cab is as ubiquitous as rainy days in an English summer. I sure we’ve all at some time been slumped in the back of one after a Christmas party watching the meter spin ever faster as you get closer to home.  I was always intrigued by the name of the company that used to make them: The Manganese Bronze Holding Company. Doesn’t sound very engineering-related does it? 

The current version, the TX1 model, is quite high-tech with, climate control and intercoms for the driver to share his cogent views on politics but to be honest I still like the earlier FX model(s). Talking of which. I recently heard an apparently true story about the design process for the latest version. It goes that drivers who were canvassed about the upgrade cared less about their own comfort than you might expect.  Instead, they were more concerned with the rake of the rear bench seat. Why?  Because on all previous versions it was just steep enough to allow the change to slip from a tipsy passenger’s pants pocket into the seat join to be collected later as an unofficial bonus for the driver.  That says it all doesn’t it?

Ford Transit Series

Another mover of 'stuff' but this one drives like a car. Some, I think, had the same engine as the Ford Capri which is pretty cool in itself. I wonder how many fledgling rock stars would not have made it to gigs, house extensions gone unbuilt, Christmas consignments undelivered or banks left un-blagged if it weren’t for the nimble Transit van. I like the original design which definitely had the look of a vehicle designed on the cusp of the sixties and seventies. 

They are still made today of course and most examples you'll see out and about will be filthy, decorated with a copies of the Daily Star and have chip paper lining the carpets like so much shredded Christmas wrapping. As a teenager me, and other members of my youth club, were transported on holiday to Bexhill-On-Sea in the back of an early eighties model all perched on homemade wooden bench seats screwed to each side of the cabin. Would that be allowed today?  I shouldn’t think so...

Hindustan Ambassador

I read recently the Hindustan Ambassador, India’s longest serving taxi cab, has ceased production after nearly six decades. Not surprising given that they were all at heart a Morris Oxford III from 1956 and remained much the same until their recent end. By modern standards they were obviously very rudimentary, with lumpy leaf spring suspension, graunchy engines and the turning circle of the International Space Station. It was only a matter of time before they finally lost their affection with the Indian populous who have developed an increasing taste for the comforts and performance of more modern motors. As for me, I have fond memories of my trips in these tough little cars whilst I was working in India. 

My longest trip in an 'Amby’ was from New Delhi to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. Me and some colleagues hired a driver and spent four hours (each way) bouncing along on the insane Indian roads with me prostrate on the back seat suffering from acute Delhi Belly, overdosed on Imodium and shivering profusely due to my fever and the car’s excellent air conditioning. Fair play though, it got us there and back.

Piaggio Ape

Another utilitarian wonder.  It’s basically a Vespa scooter turned into a van/pickup/taxi/coffee shop/advertising hoarding. Designed to negotiate the narrow meandering alleyways of Italian cities it has achieved worldwide fame (along with the similar Lambretta Lambro) due to its use as a 'Tuk Tuk' in various Asian countries. 

The smallest has just a 49cc motor and a driver’s cab, heater and windscreen wipers! Capable of carrying 200 kgs at 30 mph it’s a minor miracle. Initially I thought the name was weird but actually it makes sense: if Vespa means wasp in Italian then Ape means bee – simple!

So this Christmas when you've eaten your fill, drunk yourself senseless and broken all your presents give a brief thought to all those vehicles that, unlike you, are working hard, even on the 25th. Working to enhance and support our lives. They like the true spirit of Christmas are easily forgotten and as we sally forth into the New Year we should take a moment to acknowledge that we owe them more than we give them credit. 

So with that thought I'll sign off by wishing a Merry Christmas to one and all!

                                                                      Copyright Anthony Boe 2014.  All Rights Reserved

The Best Of The Worst

Regular readers of my blogs will hopefully notice I tend to take a wry and ironic look at the world as that’s where I find the most entertaining ideas and narratives can be found.  There are perhaps those who have come to believe that this is my natural state and will have me as a dyed-in-the-wool cynic constantly pained by the idiocy of both myself and my fellow humans. But the reality is that it’s in looking for the worst it helps us to appreciate the best of our lives and I hope that most will see this as the undertow, and indeed, humour of my ramblings. 

So, bearing that in mind, I decided to look for the best examples of the worst cars ever constructed if that makes any sense at all?  I’ll state from the outset that this list is purely subjective and is made up of my on-line research of similar reviews combined with my own particular pet hates but I hope will include some undisputed four-wheeled horrors we can all agree would have been better left on the drawing board. Of course, I know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and that there are some things – cars included- that can, with the passage of time, transcend their initial badness to become true contemporary classics. Maybe a few of these are listed below so let’s get on and see where we end up…

Austin Allegro: Many will see this as a cheap shot. How much more can be said about the ‘All Aggro’ that hasn’t already been written? We all know about the amorphous shape, the square steering wheel, the (alleged) rust, the diarrhoea coloured paint options, the indifferent interiors and woeful performance; surely that should be enough. However, I find I like what Sir Digby Jones said when commenting about bad business practice: "It is what I call the British Leyland model – you put a lot of money in at the top, and an Austin Allegro comes out at the bottom.”  The only questions to answer are whose bottom is he referring to and whether it also gave us the Metro, Maestro and Montego?

Morris Marina and/or Ital: At one time the word ‘Morris’ pre-fixed some very worthy motors. Try adding Oxford, Minor, A35 and you’re in good, if not great car territory.  Sophisticated they weren’t but at least they were solid, steadfast and maybe even reliable. Salt of the earth motoring from a bygone age made by manufacturers who seemed to care about their product and produced it as well as they could.  Then at the end of the British Leyland story, there were the moribund efforts above. Cynical attempts by accountants and marketers to milk the last vestiges of integrity from a well thought of brand by applying it to whatever crap the company could be bothered to shove out of dying car factories in the West Midlands. Try buying a new Morris branded car today.  You can’t can you?  I wonder why.

Triumph TR7.  The successor to the TR6 and an ignominious end to the noble ‘TR’ series cars. A wedge shaped ‘sports’ two-seater that resembled a doorstop or a hunk of cheese. I suppose on the plus side it does easily evoke the decade in which it was conceived and made.  It’s irrevocably 70’s in look and design, no doubt about that; but even if you think that’s cool, even though it was driven by Joanna Lumley in The New Avengers, this was a bad car. It was the very definition of form over function in automotive clothes. Despite their futuristic looks they were badly built and based on ageing technology and platforms that were spared any form of innovation that might have made them worth owning – that’s a bit sad really.

Trabant: The Cold War people’s car.  After a 15 year wait residents living east of the Berlin Wall were able to purchase one of the most indifferent cars ever made.  Not only were they smelly, noisy and horrible to drive the bodywork was made from the bi-products of cotton manufacture. I encountered a lot of these cars whilst in Berlin just after the Wall came down. Liberated East-Berliners joyously drove their two-stroke Trabis across Checkpoint Charlie into the free world in search of Levi Jeans, Coca Cola and Marlboro ciggies immediately polluting the whole area with noxious, oily fumes. 

I vividly remember seeing lines of them spewing clouds of blue/white smoke which would cause most western drivers to stop and wonder if they’d accidentally filled up with diesel. Then there was the teeth clenching crunch as gears were engaged and the squeal of minuscule drum brakes. But you know what; according to some reports they just kept going with reported lifespans in excess of 28 years in some cases. I wonder if that would be the case if they’d been made in Cowley for example?

Lada Riva:  Another communist conveyance. I had a mate who drove one of these Soviet lovelies and we’d tootle about quite happily in it wincing at the crashing noise as we hit potholes in the road.  But what an austere box it was. Based on a Fiat 124 the Riva pretty much defined basic motoring.  When they were introduced to the UK they traded on their cheapness and were reasonably popular as robust economy cars.  When our emissions standards changed their dirty engines didn’t make the grade and that pretty much did for them as saleable cars in the UK. 

However, despite their general awfulness, they did have a couple of unique advantages over other cars in that they were designed to cope with harsh Russian winters so invariably started well on cold days and had a great heater!  As for finding any other redeeming features you’d have to say: 'niet!'

Ford Pinto: This is the notorious car that killed people. Not necessarily a bad car overall until that is you were waiting to turn with your indicator flashing. Then it changed from an indifferent car into a bomb. Under these circumstances a rear end shunt created a deadly fireball as the live electrics combined with a burst petrol tank. 

Worse still, Ford knew about this design defect and instead of recalling all cars for an alleged one dollar fix, they calculated that paying the resulting lawsuits would work out cheaper. It’s one of the worst examples of corporate accounting at its most cynical and dangerous. Luckily the US courts found this out and punished Ford to the tune of millions of dollars.

Pontiac Aztek: I have to mention this as it always appears on bad car lists but it I still think it a pity it wasn’t sold in the UK. The Aztek personifies - to the extreme - the malign effect accountants and marketing people have on car design and, similar to British Leyland et al this blinkered penny pinching destroyed an historic US car brand. 

As a crossover SUV it apparently functioned quite well but aesthetically it was a minger to end all mingers. Interestingly the Aztek has recently been given some late-onset street cred' as the featured car in the wildly popular US series Breaking Bad.

Like him or not Top Gear’s Jeremy Clarkson has a subtle way of indicating he’s in the presence of a bad car: he affects a Brummie accent when describing it. In this one vocal inflection he telegraphs one of the common factors that tie many of these cars and their rotten reputations together and whilst you could equally use a Scouse or Oxfordshire accent, the message is clear: at some point many car manufacturers lost their souls to money, politics or incompetence. 

Perhaps worse, many just stopped caring and as a result they’re now gone. 

So there you have it. Were my choices right? What would you have added (there’s plenty more I might have mentioned)? Alternatively, perhaps you’re the owner of one of these ‘beauties’, now simmering and thinking about adding a comment rebuking me for my unkind words?  If so, please refer to paragraph one, and remember I owned one or two of these cars myself.

First Published in H&H CVC Magazine  - Copyright Anthony Boe 2014 All Rights Reserved

Italian Lemons, Japanese Cherries and Opel Fruits

It occurs to me of late that Citroen is basically French for lemon which means in effect the classic I drive is car trade parlance for a dodgy motor.  That got me thinking.  Is this the only lemon I’ve ever owned?  I’m afraid not, far from it in fact. Try this: get a piece of paper and write down the make and model of every car you’ve ever owned.  For some that might be quite a list but do your best and hopefully you’ll get them all.  Now review your work.  Ask yourself, if I were to show this list to a friend, to which cars would they say ‘wow!’ and over which would they exclaim ‘whoaa’? By way of a confessional mine’s an indifferent list from start to finish with nothing too exotic or expensive on it and in compiling it confirmed my early car purchases were, without exception, based on cost, practicality and extreme need i.e. I required a car urgently! As such, I cared little for looks, reputation, or street cred’ if it was cheap to insure and didn’t require too much fettling I was happy with it.

When I share what these vehicles were you'll find there’s more than a few 'clunkers' that will almost certainly make you go ‘urrrgh’ I suspect. In fact, reviewing the list and looking up how the cars are now perceived, it seems I had a spectacularly bad taste in transport.  I will reveal a few of these monstrosities momentarily but I have to say despite what’s been written about some of them, my memories are quite different and my ability to source a car that was mainly reliable, did the job of getting me from A to B, could actually pass an MOT (more than once) and didn’t cost the earth to maintain was, on the whole, quite good. And, when my cars did need some mechanical work doing, in many cases I could it myself mainly because my chosen motors were so rudimentary.  So now it’s time to hold your breath, clench your buttocks and prepare yourself for the list. Here goes…

Morris Ital 1.3 (T Reg):  Oooh what a start!  It’s been voted the second worst car ever made by some polls (after the Austin Allegro).  Out-dated when it was launched and based on ancient platforms including the Morris Minor this was a sheep in a more rubbish sheep’s clothing.  It was in effect a Morris Marina pimped up by sticking bits of plastic to it in an attempt to give it an Italian style make over.  It fooled nobody and didn’t last long either commercially or physically as they rusted faster than Usain Bolt running over hot coals. Paradoxically, given that most quickly became oxidised cubes of scrap, they are now quite rare as classic cars go. Having said all that, I quite liked my denim blue Ital. It cost about £200 and had twelve month’s ticket. Although I didn’t yet have any frame of reference on the ‘bad car’ scale I found it was largely reliable, great fun to chuck around (as it was rear-wheel drive), was roomy and if you didn’t look to closely, not a bad looking motor.  I actually did a lot of untutored work on this car, referencing a Haynes manual and buying parts from scrap yards I found fitting them myself was both satisfying and great fun. Of course, when the rust bug really got a hold it was time to move on and I swapped it for a…

Datsun Cherry 1.3 Pulsar (W Reg):  Arrgh, not a classic Datsun, great engine but terrible bodywork?  Correct, and this one, in rust flecked crimson, was a total shed which lasted about 6 months until the MOT ran out and with no prospect of a cheap pass it had to go. But, after a few months on the bus, I desperately needed a car again so decided to get a…

Datsun Cherry 1.3 Pulsar (X Reg):   Arrgh, yet another classic Datsun, great engine but terrible bodywork?  Correct you read it right. I was so taken with my first one I got another.  Better basic quality it’s true but exactly the same sleek looking car, in rust flecked crimson, but this time with a radio! And it served me well.  OK, it had a bit of duct tape on the roof covering a hole where the metal was very badly oxidised.  And yes, it has weird splodges of rust in random places which no-one could explain why that had happened but, overall, l thought this car was great.  It could run on unleaded petrol which was cheaper than the still available leaded fuel. It went pretty fast too and as a hatchback was pretty handy for the many home moves I made at the time.  It was only a year or so after this was made that Datsun became Nissan and we all know that went pretty well.  I like to think of myself as prescient in this regard; recognising quality car manufacturers by buying their early rubbish cars – it’s a talent I’m sure you’ll agree. Eventually, after a couple of years of pretty hard service the Datsun was still going strong and, remarkably, still had some value when I sold it in favour of a…

Opel Kadett D 1.2 (Y Reg):  Basically a Vauxhall Astra but badged with the Opel lightning flash emblem so it was a weird Anglo-German hybrid? This lurid green example wasn’t even a three-door hatchback having instead a boot which I think was relatively rare. Let’s overlook the fact that it almost immediately needed a new clutch or that in the wet it was spectacularly difficult to start. I soon got used to it more or less. It was, however, the car that gave me the most stressful breakdown I ever had. One wet morning after a lumpy start it decided to give up the ghost, in driving rain, during the rush hour, right in the middle of the Parrs Wood intersection with the A34 with no prospect of moving anytime soon.  Fully suited and booted I had to physically push/steer it to the safest spot I could find amidst the tooting cars and impatient drivers I was blocking (none of whom offered to help). It lived to fight another day but eventually the persistent oil leak and ever-more reluctance to start meant I decided to send it to the great scrap yard in the sky and in the process doomed myself to a yet another year on the bus. Until I saved up and got a…

Ford Fiesta 1.0 Mk 2 (B reg):  I shouldn’t include this one really given that it’s actually the best car I ever owned and gave me no problems whatsoever. It was nippy, practical, reliable and cheap to maintain I still miss it in fact. Even though I moved up to BMWs thereafter it remains to me the zenith of great motoring where simplicity, good design and no nonsense engineering offer the driver everything they could possibly need in a small but perfectly formed package.

So that’s it.  My subsequent Beamers have been fine and of course I now own a classic but paradoxically, now that I regularly service my cars (and have up to date MOTs) I find better quality cars mean more expensive parts and higher insurance premiums.  I would say, therefore, my cars cost me much more now than these early lemons yet do basically the same job. That’s food for thought that is.  Lemonade anyone?

First published H&H CVC Magazine 2012. Copyright Anthony Boe 2014 All Rights Reserved

All I Need Is the Air That I Breathe…

A couple of blogs ago I wrote about our Citroen 2CV Special which I enjoyed this summer with some open-roofed thrashing along the highways of Cheshire. It’s great fun harrying the Mercs that can’t handle the corners as well as our Gallic marvel. It’s the perfect car for zipping around in on a balmy summer's evening. It’s so easy to chuck about, roof fully open, letting the wind tousle your hair as you try to scrape the door handles whilst leaning it at 50 mph into terrifying bends.  In that piece I extolled the virtues of its small but mighty air-cooled engine. One might think with this year's spell of hot weather such loutish driving might be an issue and boiling oil and white hot cylinders would be the result followed by an ominous clunk and a trip home on a breakdown truck. However, even under heavy use, these engines have a distinct advantage. Why? Because there’s no water to evaporate, radiators to explode or pipes to burst and leave you in a steaming mess at the roadside. So why don’t we use this technology more given its simplicity, reliability and ease of maintenance? Some say it’s because air-cooled engines are coarse and noisy and make it difficult to heat the car. Others argue the reliance on air as the only cooling medium is a single point of failure meaning problems when they occur are usually catastrophic. Finally, there's the belief that as a lot of air cooled engines are rear mounted the cars become inherently dangerous in their handling. Well I'm here to demonstrate that history shows air-cooled cars are amongst the most enduring and interesting on the road. Let’s take as our evidence some of these breezy beauties…

Tatra T97 (1936 – 39)

I mention this one because, although I’ve never encountered one of these rare cars, research indicates that Czech firm Tatra were early pioneers of high performance, air-cooled engines. In fact, without Tatra, a whole chunk of motoring history would not have existed. Why? Well, it's alleged that Ferdinand Porsche basically ripped Tatra off when designing the VW Beetle in the late thirties (urged on by Adolf Hitler). It was all rather blatant and such was the ire this caused it ended in VW having to pay substantial compensation to Tatra after years of post-war protests. There was some natural justice in this saga for any who feel affronted by this information. During the Czech occupation tail-happy Tatra cars were responsible for the deaths of so many speed-crazed German Army officers  that they became known as the ‘Czechs’ secret weapon’.

Volkswagen Beetle (et al) (1938 - 2003)

Despite the above we can’t not mention this iconic car. Famously air-cooled and rear-engined ‘developed’ by Ferdinand Porsche the 'bug' became the basis for an extended family of similarly powered cars including: Type 2 Camper, VW Fastback, Karmann Ghia not to mention the Porsche 911 the German uber-car named after the legendary designer.  This last example definitively demonstrating that air-cooled is not a cheap and cheerful car option. Far from it.

Well preserved Porsche on display at Gawsworth
Classic Car Show May 2015

Chevrolet Corvair Corsa (1960 – 1969)

This was Detroit’s contribution to the air-cooled canon and what a car it was. It was at once very pretty and a potential death trap (according to industry critic Ralph Nader).  Badly planned, rear-engined and extremely tail happy. It was claimed it had dangerous swing arm suspension all of which may have done a lot to undermine the perception of air-cooled cars in the US but for no good reason other than poor design and execution.  Take for example its solution to the common air-cooled objection: how to heat the car in the absence of a hot water supply.  Let’s install a petrol powered heater in the front luggage compartment they thought. Perhaps plutonium might have been safer.

The original Fiat 500 (1957 – 1975)

Need I say more?  Cute, Italian, economical, compact, iconic and, oh yes; air-cooled. Not only that but its jelly mould design is still so popular it’s been re-worked for today’s market based on a Fiat Punto engine which is, errrmh, water-cooled.

NSU Prinz (1957 - 1973)

I thought I’d give mention to the NSU Prinz series of small economy cars produced in the former West Germany. I do this mainly because I seriously considered buying one last year but decided (rightly) another classic was financially a bad  idea. However, this car fits pretty neatly into the list.  It was small, quirky and utilitarian with a tiny 600cc engine which helped to mobilise owners both economically and effectively. It was designed like many wannabes to compete in the small economy car class but, like most, was overshadowed by the Austin Mini. When I test drove my prospective purchase I found the ride made the road feel like corrugated steel and if there were any brakes provided I couldn’t find them. It may have an air-cooled engine but this won’t help the driver as using it in today’s traffic you’d always be sweating buckets; from fear mainly.

Citroen A Series (1948 – 1999)

I started by mentioning the 2CV but some might not know that its same basic 385/405/602cc engines actually powered a number of Citroen’s budget vehicles.  These included the Dyane – the pimped up 2CV; The Ami 6/8 – uniquely designed urban coupés; The AK series of vans (able to lug nearly half a metric tonne) and the Mehari; a fibreglass-bodied beach buggy. All were based on the same utilitarian engine(s) and all successfully fulfilled the design brief envisaged for them despite how popular or otherwise they were with the public.

There are many others I might have mentioned but looking at this list even a badly-informed classic car aficionado can see that there’s some highly recognisable, well-thought-of cars here. All share the same air-cooled heritage. So perhaps we should celebrate more the advantages and reliability this approach brings and agree there’s definitely something to be said for eschewing liquid coolants and allowing a simple cooling breeze to waft us along on our motoring adventures.

Copyright Anthony Boe 2014.  All Rights Reserved

The Goddess

A man stops and stares as if he’s seen a flying saucer gliding by with ET hanging out of the top flicking him the finger. Children point in wonder excitedly asking their parents: ‘What is that?’  A random person saunters over in a car park and starts up what will be a long conversation with the words: ‘Nice car mate, have you had it long?’  ‘Cool,’ ‘Magnificent,' ‘Still way ahead of its time,’ these are words you’ll hear again and again. 

What is it they’ve seen; an exotic Italian sports car; a vintage Rolls Royce; a classic British sports two-seater? No its way cooler than that. Sub zero in fact. Able to induce more toe-rotting frost bite than even Ranulph Fiennes could deal with. It’s possibly the most amazing mass-production vehicle ever conceived and, without doubt, the coolest car you’re ever likely to see. It’s the stupendous Citroen DS. 

When you know something about these cars you’ll understand why they were voted in the top three most innovative cars of the last century (alongside the Mini and the Model T Ford). Not only that, it was voted (by some) as the most beautiful car ever made and one of the top twenty coolest ever cars.

Take a minute to look at its sensuous curves, shark-like front end, the huge windows, quirky back indicators placed high on the roofline in beautiful chromed housings, the shapely buttocks covering the back wheels (which you remove using a single bolt to change a flat rear tyre) and you’ll agree it still looks like a car from the future.  This, by the way, is a car designed in the nineteen forties and launched in the Paris salon in 1955; over half a century ago. The press and public alike were aghast at the DS or as these cars are reverently known the ‘Goddess’. It was a quantum leap in car design, engineering, construction and just about everything that was taken for granted in car production.  As Roland Barthes the French semiotician wrote at the time it seemed as if the DS had: 'Fallen from the sky’.

There are those who say they’re over engineered; full of philosophical French complexity with plenty of things to go wrong.  Such sceptics would talk total bollocks droning on that everything on these cars is powered by cranky high pressure, oil and nitrogen based hydraulics including the steering, brakes, semi-automatic gears and its famous up-down suspension. True, early models were an engineering and PR nightmare for Citroen where the unusually high engineering tolerances required to build a D meant in early production models a good number of leaky, unreliable examples left the Paris factory then plagued the company’s squad of mobile engineers for months after. This catalogue of errors included a complaint from a man who claimed that whilst investigating a problem the car had engaged its gears and ran him over. Pity the camera phone hadn’t been invented as well because that would definitely have gone viral on You Tube.

However, once these gremlins had been hunted down and summarily guillotined Citroen were, for the next twenty years, able to turn out one and a half million largely reliable, well-built examples and the DS was free to make its mark on popular culture carving out its place as the icon we know today. And those who get to try the sumptuous seats, massive rear leg room and other-worldly ride quality will wax lyrical about these cars for years after. Famous D owners are equally iconic: Yuri Gagarin, Alec Guinness, Bill Bailey, Peter Cook, Alan Clarke as well as virtually every insouciant French film actor you’ve never heard of.

Oh, and don’t forget in these days of increasing gun culture that this is a car that might save your life.  When in 1962 President de Gaulle’s DS Prestige was set upon by gun-wielding pro-Algerian terrorists his DS, although bullet ridden, was able to drive away at full speed despite having two tyres shot out.  De Gaulle acknowledged his life was spared mainly because of the unique qualities of the D’s self levelling suspension which immediately compensated for the damage. Try that in your bog standard Mercedes and see if you can dodge the cross fire.

Speed heads might moan that the DS is slow. With a workhorse-like four-cylinder engine even the zenith of the range the 2.3 litre DS23 efi, could only manage 120 mph on a good day. Arguably the DS never got the engine it deserved but that’s not the point. When you see a souped up Vauxhall Corsa pointlessly speeding between sleeping policemen the word that springs to mind is not ‘cool’ it’s more like ‘prat’. You’ll actually get around the suburbs more effortlessly in a Goddess as its amazing suspension absorbs bumps in the road as if they were a mere pimple.  But there’s no need to go fast to collect your automotive plaudits: paced and languid does the job much better.

To own a DS is very special indeed.  You’ll never get bored of the sensation on turning the ignition, gunning the engine slightly then giggling like a kid as it rises to action from its low overnight squat and then takes you through to its supple, airbed-in-a-swimming-pool ride as it glides effortlessly along the road.  If you should ever come to a ford or uneven ground you can raise the ride height close to that of a 4WD vehicle to get you through without drama. It’s safe too.  With front and rear crumple zones and a rock solid chassis even the engine is designed to slip underneath the car in a front end shunt. But much more than that is the feeling that you’re in a true motoring legend unlike anything you’ve ever driven before and that alone is worth the occasional maintenance bill when it decides to play up.

Prices for Ds have been rising steadily over the last few years and a good reliable saloon version will cost anything between twelve to fifteen thousand pounds. The estate (station wagon) versions command up to twenty thousand but are huge with massive load space and up to seven seats including two ‘jump seats’ that can be folded away when not in use.  If you want a cabriolet then the sky’s the limit price-wise as these were custom built by Henri Chapron coach works rather than being a standard production variant. But those who take the plunge find that, even today, they are a very useable everyday car, are great on the motorway and absolutely ideal for long-distance travel where the super soft seats and soothing undulations of the ride means you arrive at your destination in much better shape than from the rock hard seats of your Beamer.

Votre Objet Du Desire?

So if you don’t agree we’re in ice-cold, super-cool car territory and are still hankering after some priapic Italian or German jobbie I have one final thought.  Before you blow your cash on something built in the Tuscan hills have a viewing of The Day of the Jackal or the recent film version of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy to see the D in action. Then, to finally convince you, watch Scarface, one of the coolest films ever made, and see the key role the DS plays in that gun-fest. If this doesn’t cement these amazing cars as votre objet du desir nothing will.

First published in the H&H CVC Magazine March 2014.  Copyright Anthony Boe 2014 All Rights Reserved

When Push Comes To Shove

Whilst there are many excellent benefits that come from owning a classic car there is, as with many things in life a lingering dark side.  As much faith as we have in our chosen aged conveyances and no matter how reliable they may seem it is inevitable that they will at some point let you down.  Ancient engineering, hard to find parts and creeping invisible rust will all eventually manifest themselves  in an unscheduled, and traumatic stop at the roadside. So I ask: is there anything more stressful than breaking down in your classic car?  Clearly life throws some nasty things at us as a matter of course and in the scheme of things a mere breakdown is, on the whole, quite trivial. But in the heat of the moment it’s hard to rationalise it in these terms. In my experience it always happens when you least need the hassle.  You’re in a rush. When it’s raining or snowing. You haven’t got your mobile phone with you. Usually when your classic car ‘fails to proceed’ not only have you the initial problem of why you have stopped to consider, but you can probably add any, or all of the following list to help deepen your roadside anxiety:

The wait. Until your breakdown organisation turns up – if they can find you that is. Even then, the recovery guy will look over your ageing motor and with a sigh, put away his high-tech diagnostic computer in favour of twiddling with the HT leads, flicking the fuel filter and testing the battery. I think they do this more for show more than any sort of informed mechanical opinion just in case they might get lucky. Eventually, after they’ve asked you to futilely ‘turn it over’ a few times, the only option will be to publicly hoist you onto the truck and take you home.

The cost.  Almost all breakdowns of the classic car type will mean the outlay of money.  Even if you can do the remedial work yourself, an exotic, long-in-the-tooth motor will mean sending off for parts, searching eBay or phoning round specialists who know the true cost of what you need and then charge you accordingly. This will be money you don’t really have because you’ve just paid for a new suite; a holiday; had the spare room decorated or worse, just paid out money on your car.

The hubris. This is the opposite of the smug sensation you get whilst driving around in a well-functioning icon of bygone motoring. The admiring glances, the smiles from appreciative onlookers and the self-congratulatory feeling that your investment is also adding to your self-esteem. However, when you’ve broken down in a very public spot you’re there for the entire world to see.  Some passing drivers will be inwardly laughing (if they’re polite) that your conceit of owning a classic car has come back to bite you on the ass. It’s no coincidence, because you’re probably thinking the same thing which does nothing to help your mood.

The regret. This will be related to the fact that last the time you went out in your car something wasn’t quite right but you did nothing about it.  Perhaps there was a strange, unfamiliar noise, the temperature gauge was just a little above normal, it crunched its gears once or twice or there was a strange smell.  All, you are now finding, were the tell-tale signs of cost and inconvenience looming ahead and were the primary reason why you went with the negligent it’s probably nothing route instead of getting your wheels checked over.  This way madness lies or at least the hard shoulder.

The lingering doubt.  Even when it’s all over. When your car is fixed and going again there’ll always be the persistent suspicion that this just the beginning. That there are more problems to come. And for that you love your car just a little less. You might go so far as to look at the classifieds to see how much your model is selling for and you’ll certainly lack confidence in it for a while. I’m sure many classic car romances have foundered against the rocks of recurring mechanical malady and roadside melancholy and I for one have been ‘there’. I wonder how many more forced pull-ins it’ll take to finally make me pull out?

Would you like to buy it?

I have a saying I like to use when people chat to me about my car.  If they ask how reliable it is I always quip: ‘I have total confidence in it… between breakdowns’.  However, if you asked me whilst I’m nursing my ailing motor at the roadside, a more apt response might just be: ‘would you like to buy it?’

Edited version from article first published in H&H CVC Magazine June 2014. Copyright Anthony Boe 2014 All Rights Reserved

Viva Las Vega's

I owned my first Lambretta Vega 75 back in the early nineteen eighties. I would have been 13 or 14 years of age and knew nothing about scooters or indeed mechanical engineering. It all started on a whim really. It was during the short-lived UK Mod revival around that time and I'd decided to buy a parka and some appropriate sew-on patches thereby labelling myself as part of this scene. One of the patches was of the classic Lambretta decal a vehicle brand highly associated with the Mod movement. Getting well into the mood, and on the off chance, I asked my estranged father, on one of the few occasions he visited, whether he could get me a Lambretta. To my surprise he somehow managed to drag a mothballed scooter out of some lock up somewhere and rang me to say it was on the way. I was, well, delighted

When he turned up I remember being instantly deflated and more than a little disappointed. I watched on, somewhat ruefully, as he unloaded from his trailer what I later found to be a tatty looking Vega 75 in its original, but battered, blue paint. Economical in design with funny girder type handlebars and very little adornment it looked more like that other retro classic; the Raleigh Chopper than one of the side-panelled classics that I was expecting to receive. In short, it was not the iconic Mod-mobile I’d hoped for. Anyway, swallowing my deep reservations and after some energetic work kicking it over, we got it started and, following some minor adjustments, all the major bits were soon operating; brakes, gears, lights and clutch. My first association with the so called Luna line had begun.

Fly me to the Moon

After some consideration, I decided that my grand plan was to take my machine and restore it to its former glory. This was obviously impeded by some quite major failings on my part mainly centred on lack of skills, tools, money or knowledge not to mention a driving licence or any experience of riding any kind of motorbike. Sources of information to aid this process were patchy to say the least. At the time the internet still resided with the US military, other Vega owners were thin on the ground especially when all you could do is hope to accidentally bump into them on the street. These issues set the overall tone for this my first foray into classic scootering. After several years of incompetent fettling followed by rallying my bike around various car parks and industrial estates and a few brushes with the police for lack of insurance, tax or indeed age I sold it for thirty quid, in a much worse state that when it first arrived. How I regret that now. If I'd laid it up in my Mum's shed I might now still be able to bring it back to life. To take some good from this I did in fact learn a lot. During the Vega’s time with me I had dismantled most of the major parts, learned how to coax it to life, even after months of being laid up, and perform some basic maintenance. This knowledge serves me well today but with so much more to learn.

No Helmet Needed

To offer some relevant Lambretta history: they were launched in three models known collectively as the Luna Line so called to invoke, or more likely, cash-in on the frantic space race happening during the 1968 – 1970 period in which they were produced.  There was the basic Lui 50cc Italian market only, which could be ridden in their home country, licence and insurance free, in much the same way as a push bike. Foreign markets were better served by the more practical and road legal 75cc Vega and the now rare Cometa Models.  The latter being the first commercially produced scooter to have a clever, automatic two stroke oil delivery system fed from a dual compartment petrol/oil tank (but limiting the range in the process). Performance for these machines was impressive due to the high revving engines and a beefy 20mm carburettor meaning they accelerated well and could manage in excess of 50mph with a good following wind. Scary stuff with such small wheels and virtually on or off drum brakes. Issues came with high levels of vibration caused by the highly ported engine which meant long journeys were a numbing experience for both the arms and the posterior.  Complaints were that they were not quite pitched right; 75cc was not quite powerful or versatile enough leaving them stranded between basic commuters and more powerful keep-up-with-traffic 100cc plus bikes. They didn’t sell well and heavy discounting was required to shift them in numbers.  They did, however gain a following, and success, as racing scooters where the adaptable engine and high ground clearance gave them good advantages in their class.  Indeed, many were broken down for their leg shields as they offered good aerodynamics to custom build racers and kept them compliant for their competitions. Even today this part makes good money on eBay and also means complete bikes for sale are increasingly rare.

And so it was that I came to love and admire these quirky machines. Even though they occupy a short but unique period in the Lambretta story their inherent novelty still appeals even despite the issues of scarce spare parts and under-powered performance.  I know they're not to everyone’s taste, even Lambretta enthusiasts, but those Bertoni-styled lines mean that Luna line scooters, when looked at critically, can be seen for what they are: true 60/70s classics that were way ahead of their time. The key to this appreciation is not to compare them, as I initially did, to their siblings in the Lambretta stable but to their contemporary small commuters on UK roads at the time this being mainly the Honda 90 Moped. In doing this it’s obvious there’s simply no comparison. The Italians win hands down and not only for their looks but also their performance and innovation.

Although they remain irrevocably stranded in the few short years they were made the Luna Line does truly evoke the era of space travel that inspired their naming. When considered over 40 years later it's clear they were truly revolutionary in terms of their overall design and you can still see some of their residual DNA when you look at modern scooters. It is for this they deserve to be admired and coveted by all who value innovative engineering coupled with unique retro styling.

Viva Las Vega's

I'm pleased to say there's a happy ending to my tale. I now own both a Vega 75 and a Lui 50 CL and have the time and money (still not sure about the skills) to do a better job of a restoration project this time. Love them or loathe them these classic machines are part of scootering heritage and their preservation and presence on the roads must remain a priority at least for the appreciative few.

Edited Version first published in H&H CVC Magazine Feb 2012. Copyright Anthony Boe 2014 All Rights Reserved