Toyota IQ: now Fast and Furious

I'LL get straight to the point on this one; I hate this car.

It's a bit of an odd conclusion to reach, because chances are Life On Cars readers are getting bored of me going on about how brilliant the IQ is. Of all the new cars I've driven so far this year, Toyota's tiniest is still by far and away my favourite.

At around £10,000, it isn't exactly cheap, but what you do get for your money is quite possibly the smallest four-seater ever made, and it's full of clever engineering touches. How can a car the same size as a Smart carry you and three of your mates in comfort?

Yet what surprised me more than anything when I road-tested it earlier this year was the way it drives. I've heard lots of analogies comparing the IQ to the original Mini - which I know very well - but I wasn't expecting the similarities to stretch to the way it handled the tricky roads of North Wales. I can't help but admit it: I love the IQ.

Sadly, what you're looking at is not an IQ.

It's the snappily-titled IQ For Sports, and - if it gets the nod from fans of Fast and Furious - it should be in showrooms next year. Which is a great shame, because it takes the brutal beauty of the original, and makes it look like something you might see parked on Southport's Esplanade on a wet Friday night.

Toyota is clearly trying to give it a bit of the Max Power treatment, but all it does is ruin the point of the original. In fact, the one thing it reminds me of is the Mini Clubman - either the 70s original or BMW's remake - because it just smacks of taking a successful small car and making it worse.

Maybe I'm just getting old and am losing touch with the connoisseurs of cruise culture, but I just can't see a generation more used to be-winged French hot hatches taking to a tiny, lime green city slicker.

Toyota's created a true landmark motor with the IQ, and I'm begging them not to ruin it.

Going clubbing

I BEGIN this week with a confession; I’ve joined a car owners’ club.

It’s not the sort of thing you tell The Champion’s 108,774 readers lightly, because it often seems in 2009 the only thing you’re allowed to be an enthusiast of is football, mobile phones and a spot of light fighting. Admitting to being such a car nut that you’ve actually joined a band of fellow fans is no easy thing.

Part of the problem, I reckon, are the people who join them. I say this as a car person myself, but far too many clubs are filled with people who have far too much time for carburettors and not enough for getting out more.

The problem is that I’ve been brought up with Trainspotting rather than train spotting, so even though I still get slightly giddy whenever a TVR roars up Lord Street, the idea of talking about its cylinder heads for hours on end in a country pub just doesn’t come naturally.

There’s also the trouble of owners feeling they have to play up to whatever image their car projects; Capri owners going all Bodie and Doyle on you, that sort of thing. Naturally, you’d expect any Mini club to just be full of people who’ve seen The Italian Job too many times.

Yet the club I’ve just joined isn’t too bad. Yes, most of the owners do turn up to country pubs in Minis, but the conversation actually covers things that belong at the bar, not the garage.

I also don’t have to make the unmistakable sound of someone pretending to be interested, which I usually have to when I’m forced to watch a football match. I’m sure the FA Cup makes for hours of interesting conversation, but you can’t blast it down a country lane on a sunny evening.

I’ve been to some unbelievably boring car clubs before but having found one with a sense of fun, I’ve realised it’s not the car, it’s the people.
A convert to car clubs? Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.

I'd rather have one of these than a BMW Z4

I KNOW it’s a risky thing to say, but it’s true.

It’s something I discovered yesterday doing that most dangerous of things; driving to IKEA. Anyone who’s ever tried this and then failed to get the flat-packed wardrobe home has already discovered that almost every car, from my Mini up to and including the latest in BMW’s long line of glitzy sports cars, is suddenly useless.

Having actually driven the current Z4 I can testify that it’s fabulously fast, very good looking and really rather nice to drive, but there’s no way you could own one as your sole vehicle because furniture will defeat it. I actually imagine the only reason why you never saw any missiles firing out of Bond’s Z3 in Goldeneye is depressingly simple – there wasn’t room for any!

What Britain’s top secret agent actually needs for his missions into Swedish territory, as ridiculous as it sounds, is a Ford Mondeo ST TDCi Estate.

It might have been overtaken by BMW’s 3 Series as the rep’s car of choice but I’ve always liked the Mondeo, and this particular version is the one for the job. It’s made for trips to IKEA, yet because it wasn’t made by IKEA, it’s solid and more than capable of handling a heavy load.

To be honest any extreme estate will do the trick, but unless you’re prepared to scratch the precious materials that line a secondhand Audi S4, Ford’s finest will have to do.

Porsche’s Boxster might have two boots, but neither of them are as cavernous as the Cologne Catheral space in the back of a Mondeo estate, and it’s even sort of nice to drive. You might think the petrol ST 220 is the way to go but for once diesel is the engine of choice; it’s all but identical until you get to the pumps.

It depresses the Z4-owning purist in me but if meatballs and shelving units are part of your life, the best car in the world is a fast estate.

Rumours I work for Ford remain unfounded.

VW goes Northern Soul

HATS off to Volkswagen this week for coming up with something no manufacturer has ever managed before; a car aimed at Lancashire and Yorkshire!

How else would you explain a hatchback clearly named after a chirpy chunk of dialect used mainly in these parts of the world? Personally, I thought the people behind the Lupo and Scirocco might have gone for something vaguely exotic, but instead it's called its latest city star the E-Up. No, really.

Luckily, it's only an electrically powered concept car doing the rounds at the Frankfurt Motor Show, taking place this week, so chances are it'll get vetted by Volkswagen's Northern Dialects Department long before it hits the showrooms. Yet it still got the proud Northern bloke in me thinking; what if there was a car just for us?

Any Volkswagen Eh Up - we don't hyphenate our greetings Up North - would have to abandon satnavs for starters. Most of us went to Scout meetings and therefore know how to read a map, so a giant Ordnance Survey scrolled across the entire windscreen will do nicely instead.

Spec levels would be set out according to precise patches of the North, with Red Rose and White Rose editions only ever sold on either side of the Lancashire/Yorkshire border. VW would also have to ditch the iconic GTI badge for the performance version, with a new YI moniker instead to boost sales in the North East.

Naturally the stereo would only be able to play trendy indie bands, although chances are it could stop working and split up altogether after several years, to give owners a feeling of regional reassurance.

Eh Ups would also be a bit blunter to drive than their rivals - they say what they mean - but in their defence they're honest, friendly and know a good real ale when they come across one.

Car companies have made some truly tragic naming mistakes before, but as anyone who's ever tried to buy a Toyota MR2 in France or Mitsubishi Pajero in Spain will testify, some still get through the net.

The E-Up's fun looks and clever propulsion system are bound to make it a sales success, but I'd rather have an Eh Up instead.

A Champion top ten

CHAMPION readers looking for my top ten ways of squandering someone else's £10,000 can find them here.

This beautiful Jag XJ is one of the motors I'd rather buy than a campervan, but what would you go for? Don't forget to leave your top ten in the comments section!

It's scrap, if you ask me

COULD you condemn a classic like this to the crusher?

It's a question which has got that little bit harder since the Government's scrappage scheme swung into action earlier this year, and - while it's done of sterling job of shedding the number of Nissan Sunnys out there - it's led to all sorts of glorious machines going to their grave.

Since the scheme was introduced in May I've heard tales of dozens of perfectly good cars being towed into the sunset, with the one of the most depressing being an ugly but practically unused Ford Scorpio which could have given a credit-crunched motorist years of joy.

But the worst case has this to be this 1958 Morris Minor with just 36,000 miles on the clock - that's an average of less than 800 miles a year - which the DVLA dealt an earlier death earlier this week.

Even the car's current owners (a certain Hyundai UK) couldn't bring themselves to kill a classic. As the car's already been issued a death certificate, it can never be legally driven on the road again, so they're searching frantically for a museum to save it. The trade-in, in case you're interested, was a Hyundai Coupe.

I know the scrappage scheme's got its plus points in a world ravaged by recession, but could you buy a knockdown Kia if you knew it would kill off an Austin-Healey for good?

I know I couldn't...

Saab's new 9-5

HERE'S a worrying thought; if you'd had a son at the same time this car's predecessor was launched, he'd be 12 by now.

So old was the original SAAB 9-5 that most executive car buyers had either forgotten it existed, or just stopped caring. When it was launched in 1997, John Major was still Prime Minister and Hanson were considered a cool pop band.

Sure, it's a Gothenburg tradition to keep its car in production for seriously long periods - witness the 15 year gestations of the original 900 and 9000 - but right now the Vauxhall Vectra underpinnings of the outgoing model are getting very outdated.

That's why the latest version, being launched at this month's Frankfurt Motorshow, comes not a moment too soon for the GM's troubled Swedish branch. It's a smart looker and yet still distinctive enough to set it apart from the BMW, Mercedes and Audi models customers usually go for.

But will it mean a revival of SAAB's old turbo tradition? Watch this space...

Ten ways to wind your girlfriend up

I OWE my girlfriend an apology.

Nothing too worrying, of course; it's just that she's mentally saving up for an iconic motor of the Sixties, and already I've squandered her imaginary money on something far worse that isn't going to work properly.

She's a travel writer and - predictably - wants to buy a Volkswagen Caravelle, something which in this country is usually seen parked up on stormy shorelines in Cornwall while fans of The Cure desperately look for somewhere to surf.

I do like camper vans, in a passing, pleasant sort of way, but so detailed is her interest in it that she's actually nailed it to the exact model and colour scheme. It's got to be a Type 2 (pictured above) in green or orange, or she isn't interested.

Given that I'm male and stupid, I've therefore decided her money would be much better spent on a secondhand Alfa Romeo, which will drive brilliantly...when it works. I love motoring that's brilliant in an on/off sort of way, because it makes you appreciate those few flawless moments more.

In fact, I could spend hours trawling eBay looking at cars well past their sell-by-date. People often go on about their perfect ten car garages if they had a blank cheque, but that's far too easy.
Give me the price of a new Fiesta - £10,000 - instead and I'd use it to stock up on rusty old Rovers, jetlagged Jags and other useless machines that have been to the moon and back.

You might get classic insurance and a tax exemption on most of them, but whichever way you cut it, you can't go on a surfing trip to Cornwall without breaking down.

Here's my top ten of rubbish classics for less than a grand, in no particular order:

1) Austin Mini - £1000 won't stretch to a decent Cooper model
2) Jaguar XJ6 Series III - Knackered at this price but beautiful
3) Alfa Romeo 156 Sportwagon - The world's least useful but best looking estate
4) BMW 635Csi - Probably the only truly cool BMW
5) Range Rover Classic - Cheap but no garage complete without one
6) Mazda MX-5 (original) - Bargain open-top thrills
7) Ford Transit (any generation) - Handy for bank jobs
8) Fiat Cinquecento - I just like them, okay?
9) Rover P6 - Gloriously old school motoring
10) Fiat Coupe - Way overdue a comeback

Alternatively, there are plenty of charities in the North West that could probably do with a £10,000 donation, and chances are they'll still be working properly this time next week.

That or spend it on a camper van.

Suggest your own top tens as comments...

The Lake District: a police state, apparently

ONE of my mates is convinced we’re living in some brutal and unfair police state.

She’d felt the full force of the police – that’s a £60 fine to you and me – for breaching the laws of the land, and reckons it’s all the fault of evil, target-hungry coppers. The only problem is, I agree with them.

Her crime was not being bothered to belt up, which I honestly think is one of the riskiest things you can do on the road, short of being drunk or drugged up. The last thing I’d want to do is pretend I’m a brilliant driver dancing around gingerly on the moral high ground – I’m not – but a £60 fine probably wasn’t enough.

I took a break from being a Champion reporter last Friday (even journalists get holidays sometimes) and headed for the Lake District, and at least twice on the rutted rivers they call roads up there I remembered why cars have seatbelts at all.

The old chap in Hawkshead who reversed his van into the side of a line of traffic – my car included – luckily didn’t do any damage, but I still breathed a sigh of relief that nobody was hurt. I had a couple of words with him about his breathtaking stupidity, but I don’t think he liked either of them.

But worst of all was Mondeo Man, who dawdled onto a busy dual carriageway somewhere near Barrow. Despite it being a 70mph road, he stopped dead in the outside lane, and I’m glad my usually hopeless drum brakes actually worked for a change. The consequences of ramming a modern motor with a machine made mainly from rust and gaffer tape doesn’t bear thinking about.

I don’t believe speed is the main cause of accidents – usually it’s hitting things – but I know I’d want to be strapped in if my luck ran out. The boys in blue weren’t being unfair to my Facebook fury friend, but trying to save her life.

£60 to stay alive? Probably a price worth paying.