The Future is Here (and it's terrifying)...

As a classic car owner naturally a lot of my my automotive interest lies with the cars of the past. Indeed if you’re an owner too you'll understand. But it stands to reason when your classic was initially launched it should have at least looked like something from (or for) the future because, like all new cars, whenever they're launched, they were designed to compel you to replace your outmoded current car. 

But it's hard to imagine isn't it? Seeing your classic from that perspective: as a thing of the future. And that got me thinking. You see, long ago, when I was a young lad in the seventies, I used to daydream about what life would be like in the year 2000. I looked forward to what I thought would be a completely different world, my youthful imagination fuelled by images from visionary TV like Star Trek, Space 1999 and Captain Scarlett. 

I pictured some kind of utopia in which everything would be shiny and white. For some reason I thought when the clock sounded midnight at the very end of 1999, the world would suddenly become excitingly space-age. We'd immediately be dressed in the the same lurid colours worn by Captain Kirk et al, all food would come in pill form, robots would fulfil our every whim and aerodynamic cars would hover soundlessly their serene drivers effortlessly manoeuvring them with a button encrusted joystick. 

And what happened when the dawn broke on the new millennium? Absolutely nothing. Well nothing that exciting. When the odometer of time rolled over to 2000 stubbornly the world looked exactly the same. Even the apocalyptic promise of millennium bug-related chaos turned out to be a spectacular damp squib.

Of course, things have changed. I mean, how did we cope without smart phones, broadband, tablet computers and sat navs? And it can't be denied that cars have become much more complex (and safer). Even today's most modest motors have more computing power than it took to land a man on the moon. 

Happily, on the whole, these things have made our lives easier and arguably richer. But think on this. All this technology is also slowly eating away at us. How many of us have lost the ability to reliably spell thanks to MS Word? Can you still read a map or do you let your Tom Tom do all the work? How would you find out anything new without the use of Wikipedia?

But now I'm worried as driving seems to be the next skill that will be gradually consumed. You may have noticed the recent announcement that the UK will be a prime testing ground for driverless robot cars.  Headlines inform us these vehicles will be on the roads by 2017 and the Highway Code is being modified to facilitate their arrival. 

Yes that's right; autonomous robot cars bristling with cameras, radar, satellite technology and servos will soon be out there. Driving around. Driverless. Hugely complex cars in which you sit like a muppet; an inert passenger letting the vehicle do what the hell it likes. Are we mad? I get concerned about what my smart phone is doing as it updates itself without so much as a by your leave. This thing is sending information about me to God knows who as it tracks my movements, web searches, telephone calls and texts all as I wander around oblivious to what the sly informant in my pocket is up to. That's a small phone you'll note, not a tonne of computerised car. So it'll be a landmark day when I sit in one of these automotive automatons, punch in my destination and then do, well, nothing. Except fret.

Old Ford or thing of the future?

This is not a new idea as you probably know. The Motor Research Centre in the UK did some experiments in the sixties on this very same theme. Interestingly (for me at least) they used a Citroen DS19 for these trials due to the ready supply of high-pressure hydraulics to power the extra doo-dads fitted to enable it to self-drive. I've seen the very car they used and it's a Heath Robinsonesque affair at best. It ultimately didn't amount to much as it relied on magnetic rails that needed to be sunk into the road. But now, with modern technology, it's all become terrifying real.

There's lots to concern us here. What happens if these cars crash? I don't think the magistrate will be sympathetic to your excuse of not having witnessed the incident because you were asleep on the back seat after too many post-work shandies. 

How will a ruthlessly logical computer cope with the utterly illogical driving of a late-night taxi driver, the bewildered elderly, a baseball-capped youth in a souped-up Citroen Saxo or an Eastern European lorry driver?  Will it blithely drive you off an unfinished bridge because the inadequate 'bridge closed' sign had blown over? The possibilities are endless and none are good. Be afraid, very afraid.

However, for me, the most knicker-filling prospect of this new technology is not if, but when, these cars become self-aware. All the fictional dystopias of Mad Max or the Terminator could become the actual, and very real, stuff of nightmares. 

As we drive - hands-free - into this cataclysmic future Asimov's three laws of robotics will be summarily disregarded, especially the one about not harming a human. And you can be sure it won't be a nude Arnold Schwarzenegger turning up in a flaming ball of plasma that initiates your doom. No! It'll be when your suddenly-sentient car locks all its doors, pumps exhaust gasses into the cabin and then goes on a unfettered killing spree as your ossified remains rattle around in the foot wells.

So, as you admire the cars from the past, spare a thought for the future. One day soon, as you cruise around in your classic or everyday car (enjoying the actual experience of driving), you might find yourself facing up to one of these futuristic monsters as it murderously bears down on you. Imagine looking into the petrified eyes of the hapless 'driver' as he screams his last words and Armageddon ensues. It's likely none of us will come off best. Welcome to the future! 

So on that prophetic note I'll sign off this rambling with the promise that: 'I'll be back'.  

Memories of Mini

Can there be a more quintessential expression of ‘Britishness’ than the humble Mini?

Despite the fact that the modern variant of the marque is firmly in the hands of BMW the original remains, at its heart, the very essence of our fair isles.  Perfect in design, small but plucky, innovative yet in some ways flawed, discrete and flashy at the same time.  

Conceived in response to rising oil prices after the Suez crisis it was, with the memories of World War Two still fresh, an example of where the British come into their own: solving problems in the face of adversity.  I wonder, when it's designer Alex Issigonis put pen to paper in the late fifties, he envisaged the world of today where a gallon of petrol is over six pounds and would he have bothered at all.  

But bother he did and his deceptively roomy, transverse-engined, masterpiece was born. Soon the Mini became one of the true British icons of the sixties; owned and loved equally by maharajahs, groovy celebrities and the humble man on the street. Just over a decade after its 1959 launch the marvellous Mini entered my life.

                        

I have mainly happy memories of our family’s first Mini. It was a basic British Leyland 850cc model in dark blue delivered as new in 1972.  It had been supplied to my disabled Mum by the UK government to help her, as a single parent, to be mobile having two small kids to lug around and all.  Before arrival it had been adapted to enable it to be driven with just the hands and what a challenge that proved to be. As a manual car it needed some pragmatic and ingenious additions. 

The observant would see it had two quarter moon controls just underneath the steering wheel. The bottom lever operated the clutch (assisted by a huge servo retro-fitted in the engine compartment), the top regulated the gas and it required much subtlety and skill with the practised fingers of the right hand to balance them to avoid stalling when setting off. This proved to be particularly tricky on hill starts.  To the left of the driver, next to the gear stick, was a hand operated brake; an austere lever topped with a white knob connected directly to the brake pedal by a primitive linkage. On top of all this, things like gear changes, handbrake operation and steering were obviously also required. I don’t know how she managed to drive it. I’m fairly sure, looking back, she doesn’t either.

Once the driving test had been passed, it heralded the start of convenient travel but also some pretty hair-raising journeys.  I could mention a few:  Like the time it took us over 10 hours to get to Butlins in Skegness as navigation was just one process too many above all the other tasks the adapted Mini demanded of Mother.  

Or the time in torrential rain on the motorway when we were suddenly surrounded by lorries and the spray they created overwhelmed the puny wipers. Panicking, she nearly lost the plot and I had to calmly talk her out of just stopping dead in the central lane and letting fate take its course.  I’m lucky to be alive thinking about it.

That first Mini lasted about six years. Towards the end of its life it had fallen foul of the classic Mini maladies.  Rust was eating away at the inner wings with damp foot wells and spongy sills being the inevitable outcome. It especially didn’t like starting on cold mornings necessitating comedic push-starts begged from passing strangers aided by two exasperated kids.  Finally, when the heavily ridden clutch went, so did the car.  

Soon after it was replaced with teal blue Mini: same set up as the first and eventually the same issues. By then we’d learned a clever trick of jump-starting it in reverse gear which was much more effective – most of the time.

What I particularly remember was the huge load carrying capacity they had.  Fully packed they could take four or five compact people plus other stuff such as drums, guitars and amplifiers. Indeed, it was used as our alternative to a Ford Transit to transport me and my fellow band members to rehearsal rooms and gigs when we were budding rock stars. I doubt we’d get away with such excesses these days but, again, it’s testament to Mr Issigonis’ clever design that there was plenty of Tardis-like space with many nooks and crannies to cram full. Amazing really for such an outwardly compact creation.

Three more Minis followed. My Mum got a red automatic which made the hand controls simpler and it was mainly trouble-free in the time we had it. By this time I was a driver, having learned my basic driving chops in our Mini, and was enjoying the experience for myself. By the end of our Mini ownership I’d driven the automatic, my sister’s turd-brown example and finally my very own oxidised red Mini 1000. 

Thinking back I loved the dodgem-like road holding and handling. The ability to turn a full ninety degrees from a standing stop. The wooden feel to the brakes (that did tend to fade a bit when under heavy load) but, most of all, the way you could barge around; nipping in and out of traffic with gazelle-like ease and park just about anywhere you wanted.  Today, if I had unlimited funds, I’d have one like a shot.  

So, even though they may not be the safest of cars, the most long lived or particularly well-equipped I can assure you if you’ve never had the experience of a Mini in your life (however briefly) it’s possible you may not have lived at all.  

                                                             Copyright Anthony Boe 2015.  All Rights Reserved

Our William

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged mainly due to a packed and bleary Christmas so a belated Happy New Year to everyone!  Traditionally New Year is all about new beginnings: pledges and resolutions we might make to ourselves and immediately fail to deliver. Oh well, there’s always Chinese New Year so don’t fret.

So I thought in this blog I’d write about some new beginnings from almost a century ago which culminated in something all car enthusiasts will recognise. You see, every now and again you hear some information that leaves you, as the UK vernacular goes: 'gobsmacked!' It doesn’t often happen to me and that’s not to claim I know everything by the way, I’m simply more blasé than most I suspect. However, when I recently discovered that Woodsmoor in Stockport (in northern England) was ground zero for Jaguar cars you could have slapped my face and called me Susan in the time it took for that info’ to register. Talk about confused! Questions revolved around my head: Woodsmoor? In Stockport? The Jaguar cars? Here? Where I live? Are you sure? Really? What? How? Errrrhm? And it’s true – who would have thought it?

The narrative goes that William Walmsley, the son of a wealthy Stockport coal merchant, returned from serving in World War 1 and started to make motorcycle sidecars in his shed in Woodsmoor. And what creations they were; so beautiful, so elegant; they sold like the proverbial ‘hot cakes’. He called them Swallow Sidecars, also known as ‘Stockport Zeppelins’, due to their dirigible airship-like structure. Soon Walmsley had to move to a bigger unit in Stockport to scale up production to meet the ever-growing demand.

It was when William’s family moved to Blackpool on the Fylde coast that the story really moves on. Enter one William Lyons. He was younger than Walmsley and much more entrepreneurial. He spotted the commercial potential of William’s creations and formed a partnership with him. Soon they built up the sidecar business and diversified into building bespoke coach-works for established manufacturers, that included the Standard Swallow.

As the business progressed, it eventually moved to Coventry to be nearer the epicentre of British car manufacturing. During this journey, the Stockport storyline starts to lose its grip.
In 1935 Walmsley, a somewhat reluctant businessman chose to dissolve the partnership. He sold his shares, moved back to Blackpool and quietly removed himself from automotive history. Choosing instead to start a small company designing caravans and trailers. Lyons, on the other hand, pounced and went on to form Jaguar cars. Eventually, he gained a knighthood for creating an international prestige car brand.

Over the years Walmsley’s contribution was gently edged out of Jaguar’s official canon giving most the impression that Blackpool, Lyon’s birthplace, is where Jaguar had its genesis. We know better now don’t we and perhaps you’re as surprised as I was?

My Dad owned a Mark 2 Jag that he upgraded to a Mark 10 Jag in the early seventies. It was a huge whale of a thing, I don’t know how he drove it. My father-in-law had a white XJS in the eighties which I’m pretty sure is now a pile of rust. Fictional detective Inspector Morse famously drives a cranky old Mark 2. Enzo Ferrari described the E-Type Jag as one of the prettiest cars ever made. All of this would have been impossible if it wasn’t for the efforts of a bored ex-serviceman living and working in the post-industrial northern mill town I call home.

How can we know how many Jags in the intervening decades have cruised down the M60 motorway under the magnificent Stockport viaduct? How many Big Cats have been parked in Woodsmoor the owners ignorant of the historical thread that extends from years earlier, snaking through the borough, from the old century into the new, coiling ever tighter until coalescing into the high-end motor they will fret over as they leave it at the kerbside.

History is a beguiling thing. It’s the collective story of how tragedy, ambition, accident, stupidity and serendipity collude to instigate the events that form the future. And in this process, alongside orthodox history, as we know it, if one cares to look, there are also parallel stories of small beginnings, unsung heroes and also-rans: the victims of bad luck or misplaced credit. Walmsley's story just happens to be closer to home than most and to me, here in Stockport, is definitely that bit more interesting.

As a coda to all this, apparently, there are moves to get a commemorative blue plaque mounted on the house in Woodsmoor where the Jaguar story began. It can't be too soon to my mind. And, just around the corner from the former site of William’s humble shed, some new houses have been built one of which is known as Walmsley Cottage. It’s not much to mark William Walmsley’s considerable and local contribution to our classic car world but perhaps, given his low-key nature, it’s just enough.

                                                                                Copyright Anthony Boe 2015.  All Rights Reserved

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