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