Mountains, museums and motors

AT one point, on a particularly gridlocked M6 near Lancaster, I actually thought going on another driving adventure was a bad idea.

Some of you might have spotted something I'd planned called The Mountains and Museums Run, which had it not got cancelled thanks to no promotion whatsoever, would have last weekend been the first ever Life On Cars event. It got shelved because most of the classic car nuts (rightly) decided that October's just too wet and wild to take their pride and joy out, but - given that I'd booked a few days off - a few mates and I decided to go anyway.

Designed to be done in just two days, it's a cracking route through the countryside, taking in two counties, two National Parks, three motoring museums and one pub with very tall ambitions. More importantly, it mixes some of Britain's most demanding roads, including the Buttertubs and Kirkstone mountain passes - to make the motoring extra memorable.

With the Mini long gone and the MGB nowhere near ready, it fell to the £100 Renault 5 to get me to the fells, and as soon as I got there it became instantly obvious that it was far faster than either of the two Minis my mates had brought along. For a car I bought originally as something to keep me moving while my own Mini was in winter hibernation earlier this year; it's really grown on me despite the dowdy styling. As well as being endlessly reliably, it's got far more poise and precision than any 1.4 hatchback really ought to!

What I did learn from my lessons in the Lakes? Firstly, that The Mountains and Museums Run can be done in less than two days with stops at Cars of the Stars, The Bond Museum and the Lakeland Motor Museum to spare. The route's here in all its glory, if you fancy giving it a go yourself, but I am planning on doing it as a proper event, when the weather's better, sometime next year.

But more importantly I've reminded myself that it doesn't really matter what you're behind the wheel of (though it helps), as long as you've got a group of mates behind you and a few miles of challenging mountain passes ahead. You might have to put up with a few gridlocked motorways on the way there, but it's worth it.

The smiles are back.

Fire up the... Suzuki Swift

UNDERESTIMATE this innocuous-looking little scamp at your own peril, because for all its supermarket-run styling Suzuki's Swift is the unlikely driving hit of the year.

You might struggle to spot the difference between this and the outgoing Suzuki supermini - thanks to the mildest of aesthetic updates, the two do look VERY similar - but the slightly frumpier proportions and the larger lights let you know this is the latest in a long line of small cars from the Japanese company. Whisper it quietly, but I actually preferred looking at its predecessor!

Part of the new look is a boot lip that's unusually higher than its small car rivals, which shouldn't bother the trendy younger buyers it's aimed at but could prove a problem if you're a pensioner struggling to lift a week's worth of shopping into the boot. It doesn't give off the same feeling of quality as Ford's Fiesta either; don't worry, the Swift's screwed together superbly, but it just doesn't show it off in the same way.

But put all that behind you and give it a go anyway, because on the road the Swift is far more fun than you'd ever expect it to be. It's balletic rather than ballistic and relies more on its finely-balanced suspension than its 1.2 litre engine to put a smile on your face, but the charming rasp from the exhaust and the wonderfully communicative steering egg you on into every corner.

One of the best things about is its flick-of-the-wrist gearchange, easily the most enjoyable of any car this side of Mazda's MX-5. Admittedly, the feel of the gearchange isn't going to be high up your list of priorities when you're looking for your next new car, but the difference between a duff one and something as smooth and rifle quick as this one can completely change the feeling from behind the wheel.

Amazingly, it's very nearly as much fun to drive as Citroen's DS3, a much more powerful motor costing almost twice the price.

Get past your small car prejudices and there's a hot hatch hit screaming to get out of the little Swift, and you'd be an idiot to overlook it.

As published in The Champion on October 28, 2010

A fond farewell

SO that's it then. After almost two years and a string of anecdotal incidents, the Mini is gone.

Even now, more than two days after I finally sold my very first motor, I'm still getting calls from Champion readers, who I'm having to disappoint because they're now among the hoardes of hopefuls who haven't just bought a bargain starter classic. In the end, the first person who saw the 1983 Mayfair offered me the right price - in cash - for it, and as you read this it'll be sat solemnly somewhere in Skelmersdale.

Why did I do it? Because the Mini - well, that particular Mini - is a very hands-on kind of car, which rewards fastidious sorts of people who like to fiddle and fettle with it constantly. I'm a petrolhead not because I enjoy messing and mending with motors but because I enjoy driving, and I struggle to see the point of a car, even one as good as a Mini, if it spends more time with its tyres in the air than tearing up the tarmac.

Naturally, I've been told by my mates at Mini Southport and Ormskirk District that I've got to get another example of the 51-year-old design classic, and I will...eventually. But to fill the oil-stained space the Mayfair's left it'll have to be a Cooper in Britpop spec (red, white stripes, Union Flag roof) and much, much better condition.

My own Mini was like Friends - endlessly entertaining, but littered with unfortunate incidents everyone laughs at it but aren't funny for the people involved. I'll never forget The One With The Ten Hour Breakdown Recovery, The One With The Annoyed North Wales Police Officers, The One With The Overheated Engine or even the one Mini adventure I still get asked about more than any other... The One Where The Wheel Fell Off.

The Renault 5 which usually comes to my rescue, conversely, cost a quarter what I paid for the Mini originally and has never broken down. So rather than face the battle of trying to repair a car that's rusting away faster than my long-suffering friends can repair it, I decided to sell it to a proper classic car fan, someone who enjoys that sort of suffering because they call it "a project".

Naturally, the sensible thing to do now would be save the money up, spend it on something like a Honda Jazz and enthuse endlessly about how much more reliable the Japanese machine is compared to the Mini, but that'd be the boring option.

What I've opted to do instead is to invest in an another British-made motor with a slightly suspect reliability record, because it's my classic car project.

Damn...

When three doesn't go into one

THIS time tomorrow, I could be completely car-less.

Admitting you own not one, but three cars, isn’t the status symbol it sounds like if you’re actually relatively poor, a problem made worse by the fact most of whatever you earn is almost immediately transferred to the cash registers of Halfords and PartCo. Certainly, arranging to restore one, sell another and MOT a third in the same week is naïve bordering on stupid.

Eagle-eyed readers of tomorrow’s Champion might spot the following hiding in the Classifieds section, which is how this week's agony of owning three old cars at once began:

A reg - 1983
Classic Mini Mayfair Automatic
As featured regularly in The Champion’s “Life On Cars” column. MOT Jan 2011, tax Mar 11, needs minor repairs, just 33,000 miles
£800 ono
07581 343476

Yep, I’ve decided, after no end of deliberation, to sell the Life On Cars Mini, meaning it’s available to anyone looking for a cheap starter classic provided they’re not afraid to use a spanner. It’s not going to make me terribly popular but precisely because I am afraid to use a spanner and because I’ve had my two years of fun with it, it’s time someone gave it a better home.

In true Mini tradition, it’s decided to reward me by breaking down just before the ad appears, so it not only needs a speedo cable, a choke, a rocker cover gasket and at least two new body panels, but it now won’t start at all.

The MGB, the bargain sports car I bought back in the summer, is in much better nick and just needs the spot of Quantative Easing selling the Mini is going to allow for, but as you read this it’s hidden away in a garage, untaxed, uninsured, and waiting on a shipload of shiny parts before it can rip up the country lanes of Lancashire again in anger. It’ll be fantastic to drive. This Christmas.

All of which leaves the £100 Renault 5, which despite being given no attention whatsoever has ploughed on faultlessly through all weathers, never once complaining that mileage-wise it’s been around the fattest part of the Earth four times.

But that’s due in for an MOT tomorrow and - despite being faultless everywhere else - there’s one patch of problem corrosion which my expert mechanic mate reckons will almost certainly cause it to fail, leaving me with the prospect of owning an MGB that isn’t finished yet, a Renault that isn’t roadworthy and a Mini that’s either broken or in the hands of a lucky new owner.

Last time I risked this situation Peugeot came to my rescue by letting me road test a cabriolet I wasn’t expecting, but the chances of finding a 308CC outside The Champion offices tomorrow are slim to non-existent, largely because I haven’t asked to test anything.

I fear next week’s road test could be called Fire Up The…Bus.

UPDATE, OCTOBER 20: News from a mate in the world of MOTs reveals the Renault’s patch of corrosion would have meant it failing, so it’s been pulled out of the test at the last minute.

Had two calls already from Champion readers about the Mini, a car which burst into life last night but is now back to square one because the chilly weather this morning did mean things to its battery.

Am now faced with one car that’s roadworthy but only until November 6, another that’s (still) broken and (still) up for sale, and an MGB which isn’t finished yet.

Commuted to The Champion office by bus.

UPDATE, OCTOBER 21: The Life On Cars Mini has been sold! More information when I've got over being gutted to see it go...

Hybrid Theory

NEWS that Toyota's Prius is ten years old this week got me onto one of the fundamental questions of motoring. Are cars evolving as fast as we are?

Think about it; a decade ago we were a fairly primitive species, doing all our business through a dial-up Internet connection and getting confused over who the next US President was because some pensioners in Florida couldn't fill in a piece of paper properly. Since then we might have suffered seeing something called Jedward being given a record deal, but otherwise the world has come on in leaps and bounds.

I no longer have to text my mates because I can just Facebook them instead, my favourite TV shows are but a click on iPlayer away, and I can do it all on something called an iPad, which is about the same size as a chopping board. Certainly, when I come across a breaking story at The Champion I'm now faced with the same dilemma; write it or Tweet it?

But cars, even ones as sophisticated as the Prius, are still largely the same, despite gaining a USB socket here and there. All of them - hybrids included - still run on the basic principle of burning things that died millions of years ago, and if you showed even the snazziest car interior to your average Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg they'd laugh openly at its humble stereo and lack of social networking. Then they'd probably set up a group on Facebook to encourage everyone else to do likewise.

I've got this theory that if you somehow stole Doc Brown's Delorean from the Hollywood warehouse it's undoubtedly hidden in (I know the original got destroyed, but Hollywood has spares of everything) and transported an iPad or a Kindle back to October 2000 in it, our not-so-distant ancestors would gasp in amazement. But send them details of even the most modern Prius and they'd yawn, because it looks pretty much the same as the one you bought back then.

I fear the answer I'm actually looking for could kill off this column once and for all, because - despite Google themselves taking on the challenge of developing the driverless car - the Facebook future may not involve motoring at all.

In October 2000 you could use Concorde to get something between London and New York in less than three hours, but now there's no need because you can do the same - virtually - in several seconds.

Are cars evolving as fast as we are? If it means not consigning the likes of Jaguar's exciting new CX-75 to museums prematurely, I'd hope so.

P.S: Hybrid Theory, in case you're wondering, was a hit album which just happened to be released in October 2000. I spent ages thinking that pun up...

Fire up the... BMW 5-Series Touring

EARLIER this year I argued one of BMW’s biggest sellers was as close as you’ll get to the perfect car, and with this latest model it’s business as usual.

No matter whether you opt for the saloon, the Touring estate or the strangely-styled GT, BMW’s 5 Series has always been one of those cars that’s irritatingly good at just about everything - you just match your choice of engine with the level of management you’ve been promoted to.

Even the 520d Touring version I’ve just tested, one of the entry models in the executive saloon’s expansive range, does everything you could ever ask of it effortlessly; you’ll barely notice it breaking into barely-legal speeds on the motorway because it does it so quietly, comfortably and inconspicuously.

This whole car’s appeal is about doing everything subtly but there’s still plenty to get excited about, with the heads up display helping you to stay safe by beaming a digital readout of your speed into your line of sight, and the spacious Touring version gets a rear window which opens separately from the tailgate if ever you’re parked in a particularly tight spot when you’re loading up.

But step outside and it’s soon forgotten, because the styling isn’t nearly as aggressive or adventurous as its predecessor. BMW designer Chris Bangle might have been lambasted at the time for the challenging angles he gave to the last 5 and 7 Series models, but for me at least the new arrival has styling so subtle it runs the risk of simply being boring.

It’s a small gripe on a car that - hefty £30k price tag aside - is excellent in almost every way. If you’re looking to make a statement to show off your success you might want to look at Jaguar’s XF or the new SAAB 9-5, but if you don’t mind taking the obvious choice the BMW’s still the no-brainer buy.

Imagine clocking this in your rear view mirror

THIS week I’d like to break with Life On Cars tradition and offer some practical car buying advice.

Specifically, I’ve a few suggestions for the road rage-ridden, van-driving cretin I encountered at a busy roundabout last week, who rather than give way decided to battle through at upwards of 40mph. When I sounded my horn to remind him I was already on the roundabout and could well have been about to ram him into the middle of next week, he politely responded by winding down his window and lobbing a can of his favourite drink straight at me. Charming!

I’m not about to advise you that all van drivers are inconsiderate twonks with little regard for the Highway Code but simply suggest this to my Transit-trashing friend; if you want to look aggressive in a van, why not just buy an aggressive looking van?

That’s why I’m hoping White Van Man will become Racing Van Man, thanks to a new Transit for delivery drivers who fancy a bit of GT40 with their Ford. Launched to tie in with the van’s 45th anniversary, it is essentially standard Transit fare - until you clock the fat tyres, the black alloy wheels and the white racing stripes, that is.

It’s the latest in a long line of Transits to be given the Dodge Viper treatment, and Ford know full well that van drivers love ‘em.

“We know that 'white van man' is image conscious both personally and for his business,” said Ford of Britain's marketing director, Mark Simpson.

“The SportVan is a real head-turner as well as a reliable workhorse and that's why they sell out so fast."

Basically, it’s a Transit designed by a five-year-old boy - all it’s missing is a few machine gun mounts - meaning you’re going to remember if it rumbles past you on a dual carriageway, negating any need for its owner to make up for a shortfall in machismo by driving like a berk.

But if you’re still going to insist on carving your way through busy traffic and cutting up every other road user on the way to a delivery you’re already running late for then I can suggest trying a trick a lot cheaper than the £22,630 Ford is asking for the SportVan.

Setting off earlier.

Why British Leyland is my home team

I BEGIN this week with a confession. I know nothing about football.

Despite the best efforts of my (Liverpool-supporting) mates I still can't feign any interest whatsoever in the beautiful game, so much so that I'll actually keep an eye out for pubs which aren't showing Rooney's/Gerrard's/Lampard's (delete as appropriate) on a big screen at volumes even Spinal Tap considered a bit loud. But I do reckon - and feel free to give me a yellow card on this one - I understand the psychology of sticking behind your team through thick and thin.

In much the same way a kid brought up in The Kop is going to grow up a Liverpool supporter, so I reckon impressionable young petrolheads raised in the vicinity of a particular kind of car are going to develop a loyalty to it in later life. In some cases it's so acute they'll even develop allegiances to just one model.

It's a pity then that when I grew up in the late Eighties and early Nineties that the garage was always filled with motors made millions of years ago by a long-gone firm called British Leyland, which in a distant past peppered the papers with stories of strikes, Austins and Morrises which wouldn't start and never-ending quests to make Britain's biggest car maker turn a profit. But right up until Rover, its eventual successor, finally went under five years ago, I “supported” them.

Sure, Team BL scored a string of fairly cataclysmic own goals - the Morris Ital, for instance - but after a childhood spent in the company of the better cars it was almost inevitable I'd make two of my first three motors British Leyland ones.

Lots of you, for instance, took an interest in the MGB GT I bought earlier this year, which after a while of seeing it stuck silently in the garage I was begining to lose interest in it.

Or rather I was until I started it up and got an earful of evocative memories.

I love it because it's a cad's car, which you somehow suspect is up to no good even when it's sat still in a garage, like an escapee from the set of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. You need to be a real car nut - guilty as charged - to understand why Rostyle wheels and chrome bumpers are cool, but they just are.

In much the same way as a Liverpool supporter is going to grudgingly acknowledge David Beckham's talent I'll happily praise all manner of motors - but obviously BL, my “home team” is indefinably better.

P.S: Racing driver Ben Collins (aka The Stig) makes his debut on Top Gear-rivalling Fifth Gear tonight at 7.30pm on Channel Five. Miss it and miss out...

Fire up the... Fiat 500C

FUNKY, full of Fifties charm and favoured by everyone from driving schools to Ferrari fans, it isn't hard to see why Fiat's 500 has proven a hit.

The smallest car the Italian company makes has been a big seller in Britain ever since it was launched here three years ago but since then its seen a whole crop of new competitors come into its premium hatchback patch, including Audi's upcoming A1 and Citroen's delightfully driveable DS3. So unless you're absolutely smitten with its retro styling it's going to have fight harder than ever to catch your eye.

It's a fun little thing to hurtle about in, with more than enough get-up-and go from its 1.2 litre engine to keep you happy, although something about its tall stance and the driving position makes you feel as though you're sitting on the driver's seat rather than in it. Nor is it the roomiest hatchback you're likely to encounter - for that you'll need Fiat's similarly-priced Panda - but that's the price you pay for the ease you'll have parking it and those priceless looks.

If you're tempted by the very Italian vibe the little 500 gives off you might also want to try the soft-top 500C version I tested, which mimics its illustrious ancestor in having a simple canvas roof which gives you instant wind-in-the-hair fun without ruining the car's instantly recognisable profile. Starting at a little over £11,000, it's always one of the cheapest ways to get a brand new cabriolet.

What isn't so impressive is the interior, which the car's creators have clearly worked hard on to make as individual as possible. It's not that a white dashboard and creme steering wheel aren't to my own taste - you can customise the colour scheme to pretty much however you want it, so don't worry - but something about the materials they've chosen somehow feels cheap.

The 500 is like pizza, another Italian institution, in that only some of you are going to love it as it comes out of the box. But there's no reason why you can't dig out the endless options list and add a few of your own toppings.

As published in The Champion on October 13, 2010

Fire up the.... Peugeot RC Z

A WARNING: do not buy this car if you don't like being looked at!

So stunning is the riot of curves, dips and lines lavished on the RC Z, the pretty Peugeot hoping to take on Audi's TT at its own game, that you're going to get other road users pointing and staring. This isn't a car for the self-conscious.

I've lost count at the number of pedestrians, cyclists and other drivers I've clocked taking in this coupe's curves, including more than one person who stopped to take photos of it. Given it's the first truly pretty Peugeot in a generation, with a double-bubble roof looking like something that's escaped from a Le Mans racer, I can hardly blame them.

One particularly cruel bystander reckoned the distinctive roof looks like someone's bottom but almost everyone else universally fell in love in with the RC Z. It's hard to think of any car for less than £30,000 that's going to attract as many eyeballs.

The good news is that there's substance behind the style, with the 308-based coupe's boot being far more generous than it really ought to be and the back seats able to take two adults, although in such cramped confines neither of them are going to be happy on a long journey. It's the same story up front, with the low-slung driving position offering plenty of space.

Out on the road it's got a far firmer - but still not uncomfortable - ride than most of its rivals, and it offers a good, but not class-leadingly brilliant, feel from behind the wheel. If anything if feels a little wider than you'd want through the twistiest county lanes, but the low stance means it feels very surefooted.

I wouldn't buy one because I favour feel over style, and on this front it's narrowly beaten by the sprightlier handling of Volkswagen's Scirocco, which doesn't look anywhere near as good but gives the bigger grin.

But if you're smitten by the RC Z's style and just HAVE to have one, you're not going to be dissapointed.

As published in The Champion on September 1, 2010

You wait ages for a new Lotus and then five come at once

IT'S the Paris Motorshow and every right-minded petrolhead is pondering the same question; why launch one new model when you can launch five?

I always imagined the chaps at Lotus would get quite offended if you called them a conventional car maker, so it's somehow appropriate that just months after returning to the world's racetracks with a semi-official F1 effort they've launched a quintet of new cars.

Not only have the Elise, Esprit, Elite and Elan models been revisted with a selection of sports cars in different shapes and sizes, the Norfolk company's also gunning for the likes of Porsche's Panamera with its four-door Eterne, making it the first Lotus saloon since the slightly loopy Lotus Carlton of the early 1990s.

Is the company's PR coup five times better than just launching a single model, which on its own would have been enough to steal the show, like the Evora managed to at London's motorshow two years ago? I'm not so sure.

The new Esprit is the most immediately exotic and exciting - it's a real Ferrari-chaser, and the first we've had from Lotus since the original Esprit died off several years ago - and the Eterne is a bold venture into uncharted waters, but the others stray from Lotus heartlands a little too quickly.

The £35,000 Elise, for instance, is getting worryingly close to Porsche Boxster territory for what's meant to be a small, lightweight little sports car, but it's the Elan which is almost unrecognisable from its illustrious predecessors. Lotus reckons Elan drivers demand more but the last two were a success because they gave less - as in less weight, which made them a favourite with keen drivers.

And the Elite? As a £115,000 Lotus it makes little sense, but I love it already. Clearly nobody actually needs one, but that's exactly why I'd have one.

I have until 2014 to save up.