Power Trip

It’s starting to get a little crazy. Don’t misunderstand me, I love having thunderous amounts of power at my disposal, but I suspect everyone is just starting to lose sight of what it’s all about.

If you’ve been reading Track Shun from the beginning you may have noticed a recurring theme. You’ll have noticed that we tend to write about BMWs, MX5s, and Corollas instead of Porsches, Ferraris, and Lamborghinis. The reason for this is that these relatively modest vehicles have made an impact on us as drivers in The Real World. These cars don’t have power in common, but handling.

Now, we love exotics. There should be no doubting this. The problem is that the vast majority of automotive sites talk about nothing other than exotics or family cars. It’s either completely impractical dream cars, or purely practical transportation. There is a middle ground, however.

I have a theory: For your normal daily car that ferries you to work in the morning and to Coles at night, you shouldn’t need more than 133kw per tonne. This is a decent amount of power by anyone’s standards, but not so over the top that components will start snapping every full moon. And I’d wager that anyone who disagrees with me on this point has either never driven a car with that much power, or they’ve got a serious addiction to street racing.

The problem, as I see it, is that the vast majority of so called ‘performance cars’ on sale focus primarily on engine power. Very few manufacturers spend time trying to make their performance cars better handlers. And even less aim for that elusive fun factor. A cocktail of engineering perfection that those-in-the-know are always searching for.

And you almost never hear about it in today’s automotive journalism, which is a shame.

Volkswagen’s first few incarnations of the Golf GTi were heralded as the most fun you could have on four wheels when they were released. And they have less power than you’ll find in a modern headlight. Yet, if you own an early GTi, you’re probably more of a driving enthusiast than someone who owns a Supra.

If most people were to drive an Alfa Romeo 147 or a Hyundai i30 whilst wearing a blind fold*, then (had they survived driving with a blind fold on) I’d wager that a very high percentage would buy one of these models over and above most other cars currently on sale. With the exception of the Ferrari-esque 147 GTA, neither of these vehicles are considered performance cars. But they are brilliantly fun and addictive to drive, none-the-less.

There has been far too much emphasis placed on who makes more power these days. Power doesn’t necessarily equal fun. In fact, what we’re seeing time and time again is that it’s the cars that give a raw driving experience that eventually turn into cult cars. Take, for example, the aforementioned Volkswagen Golf GTi, the Suzuki Swift GTi, the first few Subaru Impreza WRXs, the BMW E30 318iS, the Toyota Corolla TwinCams, the Mazda NA MX5 – what these cars have in common isn’t power, but handling. And more importantly, fun.

I’d like to see more manufacturers focusing on fun. I’d like to see a GT3-style FPV – turbocharged straight six with a lightened flywheel, stripped-out carbon-fibre interior, roll cage, and sway bars the size of my thighs. I’d like to see a Sports model that has more (or less) than just lip spoilers and decals. I want more cars like the R56 Mini Cooper S that telepathically cry out to you from your driveway, begging you to take it for another drive through the round-abouts before bed.

Power is a tool used to beat people in competition. Fun isn’t bound by speed limits, but can be used on the road every single day. Don’t lose sight of what it’s about.



*Don’t do this.

Life Versus Logic

Life, for most of us anyway, is made up almost entirely of compromise. Generally they’re decisions like trying to find the most attractive but least insane woman we can handle or searching for the biggest but least financially crippling house in a nice suburb. Risk versus reward, and all that. The ability to find the right compromise is probably one of the most valuable keys of life. To know when to continue your education, when to quit your job, or even just when to stop drinking and head home is a considerable skill, if you can call it that.

Enjoying life and the rare instances when it affords you fun, laughter, and happiness is something that I am also acutely aware of. There is far too much doom and gloom in the world. So if a mate calls me on a Sunday morning and invites me down to the beach to play in the sun and share some beers, there are few things better that I can think of. In recent years I’ve come to realise that I am a product of my environment: the seasons affect me as do my place of residence and, of course, my car.

Recently I made the tough decision to put my daily driver up for sale. Granted, she’s not the most exciting car to drive and by no means has she been the fastest vehicle that I’ve owned. But she has been a wonderful cruiser that eats up long country miles like a vacuum cleaner. There were many reasons that, combined, made her sale the most logical thing to do. It’s a risk versus reward thing. There isn’t much more fun I can get out of this car that I haven’t already experienced. And the only things I can really look forward to are higher kilometres and having to do a head gasket on a BMW V8.

The decision was also motivated by the seasons. Having had both NA and NB MX-5s as company cars in years past, I have very fond memories of spring getaways to the country, summer esplanade cruising, and peeling skin in autumn. But always, those convertibles gave me an enjoyment that few tin-tops have replicated. In the years since the little Mazdas I’ve mainly owned German saloons, which I have loved dearly. Now, though, I find myself winding down all the windows and opening up the sunroof in the vain attempt to replicate the same feeling that a convertible gives me when driving under an open blue sky.

So in my daily visit to eBay and carsales.com.au, I’ve started searching for a little rag-top for myself.

It’s surprising that a 270,000 kilometre 1.6 litre two-seater made by Mazda in 1989 is still asking almost $10k; and equally unsurprising if you’ve ever been inside the skin of that timeless design and taken its sweet chassis to the limit on a coastal road with the top down. It is a brilliantly addictive car. Personally, I prefer the NB – despite the power steering being less responsive, it makes it far easier to scramble the steering wheel to opposite lock when you’re in the mood for some fun. The 1.8 litre engine is also far less harsh, more usable in traffic, and faster. The exterior is still quite fresh, and the interior is a really nice place to be if you’re under six foot. Good examples are barely over $10k which make them a very smart buy.



But they’re impractical. NA and NB MX-5s have almost no storage space. And as someone that often finds himself transporting boxes around, this is no good to me. Most times I could probably get away with using the front seat, but then what happens if I have someone sitting there? What I need is a convertible with a bit of storage space. And seeing as an E46 330CiC is still a touch out of my budget, it’s the Peugeot 306 cabriolet that has caught my attention.

I love French things. They have the most beautiful language, food, accents, wine, towns, style, and women. Their cars, however, have always left me wanting. They are renowned for their sharp chassis yet whacky idiosyncrasies. But I never really imagined myself owning one. The 306 cab makes sense, though. Four seats, most with leather, an electric soft top, and by all accounts it is meant to have quite enjoyable handling. I say ‘by all accounts’ because I have yet to drive one.

It’s a compromise for me. As much as I love the twin-cam Corollas and the Volvo S40 T5 (floating centre console model), the only front wheel drive I’ve ever truly pined over is the R56 Mini Cooper S (with the turbo donk). So the prospect of owning a naturally aspirated four-pot front wheel drive French car wasn’t really something that I had ever considered.

But as I get older, I realise that if I want a car without a roof, I’m going to have to have to compromise. It might be that I get a Jap roadster with no space, or it might be that I buy a French front-drive cabriolet. It’s a risk versus reward thing, you see.