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When I was a kid I used to ride a little metal trike around the house. I wasn’t even all that young. I must have been around seven or eight years old, and the trike had clearly been designed for toddlers. It was made in a time when colour television was revolutionary and Bruce Jenner was still respected. The trike was blue and had hard white plastics grips and I used to ride it as quickly as I could around on the newly exposed floorboards. I loved the way the front wheel lost traction during acceleration and how the rear-end would oversteer around corners.
Around the same time, Dad would let me change gears as we drove our old Chrysler Galant. Any possible excuse to be involved in the driving. We got so used to it that it became the norm and we would carry a conversation as we came home together from school. It even got to the point where Dad would forget to change gears himself when he was alone in the car.
A few years later, after Mum had banned the trike from the indoors (and my being far too big for it by that stage anyway), I used to pretend the house was a rally stage. Every door was a ‘caution!’ corner between two trees, and each corner was loose with gravel or snow or mud. Even if I was walking normally I would be grabbing handfuls of opposite-lock in my head. But most of the time my hands were out in front of me, scrambling at the imaginary steering wheel and smashing the gearknob into second gear as the rear quarter-panel kissed one of the trees mid-corner. Often I would sneak off to go and sit in the car and practice driving, visualising myself cruising to school to pick up the girl I had a crush on that week.
When I was eleven I drove for the first time in a Holden SB Barina City on a fire-track half the size of the car. It was just before midnight and my father and I were setting up camp to get a few hours sleep before the Leonid meteor shower rained down above us. The experience lived up to all of my expectations. It was a world of freedom and responsibility that I craved.
From that point on, cars were it for me. Not even cars -- driving. I didn’t care what I was driving, as long as I was. I still have very same feeling today. For me, the sensation of driving provides me with one of the greatest feelings of freedom that I’ve experienced to date.
There are a lot of options out there when it comes to car loans -- often too many. As someone who has worked in the vehicle finance industry, here are some tips on how to find the best car loan for you.
(Full disclosure: RedStar Finance thought Track Shun was so cool and knowledgeable, they asked us to write an advertorial on the subject. Consider supporting a company that supports a grass-roots automotive blog.)
You can’t help who you fall in love with. For car enthusiasts, you can’t help what type of car you fall in love with. I know this because I have a particular soft-spot for the Jeep XJ Cherokee, despite it being not at all good for anything other than low-speed drifting in the wet. In most cases, the car you fall for will require car loan in order to make it a reality.
Deciding on which car will take residence in your driveway is one of the best parts of the process. Deciding on how to finance it can bring on trichotillomania, unless you know where to look and what to look for in a finance company. There are really two things that you want in a car loan: the best rate, and an easy application process. Our friends at RedStar Finance are one such financier that offers both same-day approval and cheap finance.
It’s easy to make claims like that without backing it up. But RedStar Finance is able to do both because they have a wider range of finance options. You see, most car finance companies will generally use a single bank to finance their loans. RedStar Finance gets to cherry-pick from seven of the best vehicle finance providers in the country, meaning their customers are always getting the option that suits their situation the best.
If your face turns into a spatula when you start trying to figure out what all the numbers mean, then I would suggest looking at the comparison rate. A few years ago the government introduced a mandatory comparison rate for all lenders. The point of the comparison rate is to incorporate all costs involved in the car loan (except for government fees, taxes, and insurance products), meaning you can compare it against another car loan to see which one will be cheaper for you in the long-term. It’s a great way to see how much you can expect to pay.
As someone who has worked for a number of car finance companies over the years, I’ve learned that the absolute cheapest finance isn’t necessarily the best. Some car loan offer greater flexibility and could be a better option for what you want to achieve. Which is why talking to a car loan expert at RedStar Finance is a good idea as they can recommend the best deal, potentially saving you thousands over the course of the car loan.
You can’t always choose which model of car you fall in love with. But you can choose which car loan provider will finance the purchase. Pick a company that offers same-day approval from a variety of banks, and has experts with proper experience.
As a child I used to play with Matchbox cars about as much as kids nowadays watch Ben 10. I.e, more than is healthy. Each car would have its own garage between the black keys of our beautiful, ancient piano. Probably my favourite would have been the Ferrari, which I now know was a 308 GTB. It was aggressive and confident; masculine yet feminine. It just stood out amongst all my other cars. So much so, in fact, that I've always identified myself as a Ferrari guy, as opposed to Lamborghini people, who grew up with Countach and Diablo posters adorning their bedroom walls.
A friend of mine recently imported a fibreglass-bodied blue Ferrari 308 GTSi Quattrovalvole from England, and due to a road accident, he unfortunately can't drive for a few months. Nick offered me a drive in the Ferrari, which was literally a dream I've wanted to fulfill since I used to wet the bed (a few months back). Naturally, I jumped at the chance.
Most Ferraris are so well designed, so proportionately perfect, that it's hard to get an idea of how big they are in the real world when you see them in print. Their latest Grand Tourers are monstrously huge, but their Enzo-era sports cars are surprisingly small. Pininfarina, and to a lesser extent, Bertone and Zagato, are masters at ensuring that overweight cars look like supermodels, and tiny cars have the desired amount of road presence. So, as I walked around the 308 I was about to drive, I couldn't help think how this Ferrari was the approximate size of my old NB MX-5. A concept I struggle with, even now.
Older Ferraris are known to be difficult to get in and out of, but the 308 wasn't all that hard. In fact, I almost enjoyed the small challenge. It's not as difficult as, say, a Lotus Exige to enter and exit, but it's challenging enough to make you aware that you're not just jumping into any old car. You know you're about to drive a Ferrari.
Turning the key produced nothing except a click and some faded lights on the dash. After spending almost an hour waiting for the Marshall Batteries man to come out and looking over the car to try and find the battery (FYI, it's under the spare wheel), we finally got it started. We enjoyed about 30 seconds before the car used the remaining petrol in the fuel lines. Customs had, of course, drained the tank. After a stint to the petrol station by the kind battery man, I was on my way.
With the car briefly warmed up, the dog-leg gearbox was fantastically stiff and notchy. It was a joy to use the chrome, gated shifter. The pedals are close together and off-centre and there is no dead pedal. This means that heel-toe downshifts come easily, but your left foot cannot relax is and is always at the ready. Another sign, then, that this is not a vehicle to pop down to K-Mart in.
But the engine told another story. In normal traffic, the car was positively placid. It was calm, easy to drive, comfortable. For the trip across town, I wondered whether drivers of the past were just pansies who got hard-ons for anything that looked a bit sexy. Except for the noticeable weight difference and quality interior finish, it didn't feel worlds apart from my 1979 Mitsubishi (Chrysler) LC Lancer fastback.
That was, until, I got to the other side Melbourne and onto the starting grid of a set of traffic lights, revealing an open, five-lane highway. Not wanting to destroy a Ferrari clutch, my launch wasn't particularly aggressive, but it was still surprisingly quick. The car pulled away from the lights with purpose and with a crescendo of metallic, roaring noise. Above 4,000 rpm the V8 mounted behind my left ear really came alive and planted all 240hp (179kw) to the fat Michelin TRX tyres at the rear. Gear changes aren't fast, but I'm sure practice would improve this. Through second and third gears, the Ferrari is wonderfully quick. I can only imagine it being akin to flying an old Spitfire. It's all about feeling connected with the entire car. You sit within it and become a part of it. Sitting so close to the ground just enhances the feeling of speed. It's a beautiful experience for a driving enthusiast.
As the rain set in, there was only one exciting moment when the back-end started to out-pace me through a long corner. The vehicle is so well balanced that it was easy to drive through the drift and correct it smoothly. Considering that the engine is mounted towards the back of the car and I was running on 30 year-old TRX tyres, I was surprised that was the only butt-clenching incident. Happily surprised. The brakes seemed fine, but in that weather I wasn't going to put myself in a position to test their full potential. The (non-powered) steering, though well weighted at speed, is unpredictably heavy and requires a bit of strong-arming when crawling along.
With dark clouds and teeming rain, I was able to get acquainted with the quirky electronics of the Italian sports car. I turned around and headed to my final destination, enjoying the pop-up headlamps (that are now extinct on modern cars) and charismatic window wipers. Yes, even the wipers on older Ferraris have character.
And that's really what this experience has taught me. Emissions laws, safety regulations, and the need for cars to be able to do everything imaginable has meant the driver is so detached from the modern car. People may look at owners of older, unloved Ferraris such as Mondials and 308 GT4s and think that they're badge snobs, but I'll know better. These cars have more charisma and driver interaction than damn-near all sports cars sold in the past decade.
Time to get my Matchbox cars out and start dreaming again.
Special thanks to Nick for the opportunity of a lifetime. Get well soon, mate.
The 2011 Australian International Motor Show. The impressive-sounding name almost implies that our market is respected by international automobile manufacturers. The unfortunate truth is that we're not. We get the old concept cars that have already done the rounds for the past year, and if we're lucky, we might get a left-hand-drive version of some model we probably won't ever see on our roads. This year was a prime example.
Not only that, but we only get the Motor Show in Melbourne once every two years now, as we alternate with Sydney because of financial concerns the car makers had. I can deal with that, though, as an annual show of the same cars does get a bit tedious.
But when my most anticipated manufacturer, BMW, doesn't bother to bring any cars that are on sale, I get annoyed. Their special eco-hybrid concept car thing, which came out ages ago, is not particularly interesting. I'm not allowed to sit it in, I'm not going to be buying the thing in the next couple of years, so it's really only a study in car design. Yes, it's a nice concept car, but it's not real. And that's what the Motor Show should be about.
We all read the specs in the magazines, look at the pictures, and watch the videos on YouTube. But the Motor Show is where you get to sit in and feel what each car is really like. Of course, it's not quite as good as driving them, but you're able to experience the ergonomics, the seating position, the slickness of the gearshifter, and the quality of the leather and plastics.
The new Range Rover Evoque was impressive, and as it's based on the Freelander2 that I so enjoyed, I imagine will be a cracking drive, too. As cool as it was, with Recaro-esque seats (without the bolstering), leather-trimmed dash, and huge moon-roof, the price-tag is still far too hefty for my liking. The Sport we looked at had two doors and was $127,000. Poor value.
The Mitsubishi Lancer Ralliart was good value when compared to the Evolution that sat next to it (if you made it to the top of the stairs without a sherpa). But drop the extra $10k on a Volkswagen Golf R, with real, thigh-bruising bolstering, blows the idea of the Lancer right out of the water.
Audi's R8 Spyder continues to be one of the most beautiful supercars on sale. The Audi designers should teach the Lamborghini designers what a curve is.
Mercedes-Benz had their new C63 coupe alongside their new CLS63 and SLS. The CLS was the most striking in it's red bodywork with big black wheels and beautifully designed interior. However, the SLS didn't draw on my emotions like the original 300SL Gullwing at the other end of the building. Most people walked past the "new" SLK without realising it was there. Mercedes-Benz will have a hard time against the Z4.
Despite not having many models for sale in Australia, Skoda put on a good show, even allowing people to sit in their (real!) rally car, which was nice. They continue to surge forward in Australia with ever-growing confidence.
Holden and Ford continue to copy everyone else as well as themselves (both releasing Black Editions, really?). At least FPV is learning that the subtler, the better.
There were a number of things I took with me after I'd left the Show this year. The first was that I was utterly disappointed that there was no BMW stand. No M3 Pure, no 1M, no M5. The second was the feel of the Mercedes-Benz G-Class, which, in my mind, won the award for best supporting actor. I loved how agricultural and secure the doors felt and how they didn't feel like doors on any other car at the show. My final thought was how I still yearn for a Maserati Quattroporte GTS. They are one of the most magnificently looking and sounding cars in the modern era.
A few years back I wrote two articles that looked at driver training for young people. Training Wheels, Part One and Part Two expressed my frustration at how young people are told not to speed and be idiots on the road, but are rarely exposed to the consequences. Unless they are forced to live through a horrific event, they don't realise just how easy it is to ruin or end a life by way of a car.
At the time, I said that it would be beneficial to expose kids to a crash. Strap them into a car and roll it, or even crash a car into a pole at 50kph in front of them. It sounds a bit far fetched, but it wouldn't be quite as hard to do as you would imagine.
So I was very heartened to see the NSW Premier leading an in-your-face demonstration for schools. As the video of the event shows, it was a very confrontational experience for the students, who had to graphically witness the death and trauma caused by a common road accident.
Bravo to the NSW Government for supporting this initiative.
The first thing you notice when you approach the new Audi Q5 is it has beautiful, clean lines. Arguably, the design is so minimal it almost borders on bland. But if you consider this vehicle is targeting the hip-but-conservative-lycra-wearing-Polo-collar-popping family man, Audi seem to be on the money when it comes to styling. In any case, I like how it looks.
To propel this compact SUV there’s a choice of 2.0 litre turbo or 3.2 litre V6 petrol engines and a 2.0 litre turbo-diesel, but the one we have today is the 3.0 litre turbo-diesel. With 176kw of power and 500nm of torque mated to a seven-speed dual-clutch transmission, it’s no slouch, and propels the 1865kg of Audi to 100kph in 6.5 seconds. On a long freeway trip the Q5 returned 7.9 litres per 100 kilometres. So what we have here is a respectably quick car that is also pretty frugal. Good thing, too, because at $72,600 without options or on-road costs it’s not exactly the bargain of the century.
In the cabin the dash is very conservative and fits with Audi’s current interior theme – very functional, very German, very quality. The thick, perforated leather steering wheel was nice to use and had the S-Tronic paddles at three and nine, ready to punch up or down through the gears at a moments notice. With decent sound quality and punch, the infotainment system can be somewhat counter-intuitive to use at times, but it’s the sound deadening that is most impressive in the cabin. Close the (noticeably short) door and you’re enveloped in a silent cacoon of leather and quality plastics and a strange tactile faux woodgrain trim.
The best thing about the Audi Q5 is that it is just as comfortable to jump in and scoot around town as it is on the freeway. It’s an easy car to live with; and that is a hard thing to get right.
But how does the latest from Audi actually perform on the tarmac? Up to this point the Audi Q5 has proven fairly conservative and minimal, however I wasn’t expecting that trend to continue out on the road. Despite having a fair whack of performance at its disposal, the engine seemed a bit constrained and not as responsive as it could be. Though the dual-clutch gearbox is as good as ever and makes the most of what the engine has to give.
Around corners and the Audi stays relatively flat, but push it even a little bit and you’ll get boring, predictable understeer. Yes, this car is very safe and very easy to drive, but it lacks any sort of excitement whatsoever. The steering is so unresponsive it could almost be described as being numb. It has the feedback of a hovercraft. I’m sure some people would like it (boring people), but as someone who enjoys driving, I was completely uninspired when I had arrived at my destination.
But my biggest criticism of the Audi Q5 is that it has almost no character. It is a beautifully engineered compact SUV that bores me half to sleep. It will carry out everything you ask of it with absolutely no eagerness at all. It didn’t move me (figuratively), and I really wanted it to.
Its natural competitor is the older BMW X3, but when you consider that you could buy the brilliant Land Rover Freelander 2 (which feels like a small Range Rover to drive) for a lot less money, it becomes very hard to justify the Q5. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate this car – it’s actually a very good car. In fact, I really wanted to love the Audi, but it’s hard to love something with no character. And the Q5 has none.
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.
The E92 335i really didn't whet my whistle. When the first pictures of the E92 were released, I didn't pine over it like I had with the E46. And out of the M3 and Audi S5, BMW would have a hard time to win me over from the lines of Audi's coupe.
The 335i has a brilliant engine, and is a hugely capable car that inspires confidence in anyone who steps behind the wheel. There's nothing mind-blowing about it though, it just does everything as perfectly boring as you'd expect from Germany. Boring is probably the wrong word, but with it's acceleration matching that of an E46 M3, I was expecting something else.
And I found it in the 135i. When I drove it at its release, it became my new favourite car. Well, more accurately, my new favourite daily-driver. If I had one of these to take to work every morning, I would consider moving further away. (For the record, I would still take an E46 M3 for the weekend.)
The 135i is just so nimble, so easy to dip into a corner, so easy to sink the right foot in and let the power improve on your already massive grin. Dropping that engine into the 1 Series is the difference between Clark Kent putting his red togs on and stashing his glasses.
And the convertible somehow makes sense in the 135i. And it’s practical, with seating for three others. Even in the wet with the top up the convertible didn’t concern me in the slightest. I just prayed for five minutes of sun to get a chance to lower the roof.
BMW are marketing their new baby-vert to me, and it's sure as hell working. More than any marketing though, it's the car that is closing the sale. It's just brilliant.
Which brings me to the BMW E89 Z4. This is a car that is placed directly in the sights of middle-aged men the world over. A competitor to the SLK of Mercedes-Benz, the Z4 sDrive35i feels, from a driving perspective anyway, very similar to the E92 335i; albeit slightly more nimble, and with an enclosing cabin that harks back to the original roadsters of the mid-20th century.
With the SLK350, it feels like a big-boy’s toy. Very easy to drive around town, but all in all just a nice little sports car for people who don’t care terribly about driving dynamics. I was a little disappointed with the interior plastics and overall design, but I’m sure it would appeal to some.
A stark contrast to the interior of the much younger Z4. The quality of this interior is the best of any car I’ve ever been in. The perfect mixture of leather-stitching, wood-grain, and aluminium. I can’t imagine anyone experiencing buyer’s remorse when sitting in the cabin of this car.
Then there’s the engine. Surprisingly inaudible with the top down, that 3.0 litre twin-turbo had me turning around and going back through the tunnel just to hear that exhaust brap as the DCT swapped cogs. Just as with the 135i and 335i, this engine is a delight in normal driving circumstances. Turbo lag has almost been eliminated, but not completely. I know it’s not meant to be an M-car, but sometimes when I mash the loud pedal, I want that neck-snapping experience you would get with the old M3 3.2 litre. I am nitpicking, though.
But my most favourite thing about the Z4 was the cruise control. It’s such a revolutionary, intuitive design, my mind boggles as to why no-one has thought to make a cruise control like this in the past 20 years.
Push forward on the stalk and it will lock whatever speed you are currently doing. A little green light on the outside of the speedo (where the speed currently is) shows it has been engaged. Push it forward again, however, and it will bring your speed up to the nearest whole number. For example, if you were doing 76kph, pushing forward twice would bring you to 80kph. Push it again, and it will take you up to 90kph. Pull it back and you’re back doing 80kph.
Finally, a cure to the Monash Freeway road works migraine.
Through a twisty coastal road, the Z4 is a bit of fun. With the hard-top in place, the car feels like a very similar place to the old E85 Z4 Coupe. Well balanced as a coupe, when turned into a roadster, the weight of the E89 Z4 shifts noticeably to the rear of the car. Some would argue that this enhances the old-school roadster experience.
But even with a beautifully sunny day and the hard-top tucked away, I couldn’t really appreciate the sensation of being in a convertible. Because you are so encapsulated within the car, it doesn’t really feel like you’re outside. As a lover of convertibles, it was a little disappointing.
If you feel like you want to turn up the adrenalin in the zed, you can put the DCT into manual mode and turn the suspension setting from Normal to Sport or Sport Plus. As well as sharpening throttle and steering, the latter actually disengages the stability & traction control, making the car a bit skittish – and with it, more fun.
The DCT is a good gearbox. Somehow not as fun as Volkswagen’s DSG, though. And I know it’s been said before, but the paddle system is so counter-intuitive it really discourages any spirited manual driving. Thankfully the gear shifter can still be used. If it were my money, I would opt for the manual gearbox. Slower, maybe, but surely more fun.
Whereas the 135i feels like an MX-5 that has been plugged into a Marshall stack and turned up to maximum volume, the Z4 feels like it was designed for people who think they are a lover of roadsters, but have never actually been in one.
Don’t get me wrong, the new Z4 is a great car. The level of engineering is unbelievably good. The fit and finish is impeccable. But somehow it suffers from the same problem (and I use the word loosely) as the 335i. It’s a quick car that doesn’t really inspire as the old roadsters used to. It's BMW's 135i that really paints a stupid grin on your face, and as such remains my favourite of the current convertibles on sale.
Many thanks to Nick, Russell, and Chris, along with the rest of the team at Mornington BMW for their wonderful help and hospitality at the launch of the Z4. Please visit www.morningtonbmw.com.au to book your test drive.
As I was cursing the peak-hour traffic I was so unfortunately stuck in the other day, my eye was drawn to a BMW E87 116i, glistening black in the afternoon winter sun. And it got me thinking: what defines a luxury car?
While I pondered this question, I realised that it’s far harder to demarcate than I had originally assumed.
There are cars we automatically pigeon-hole as being from a luxury automaker, and those that we assume are simply transport. In the past, it was easy. Luxury meant leather and technology. Today, both are easily accessible, available from even the entry-level Korean offerings.
Take, for example, the Hyundai i30cw. This is a small-to-mid-sized wagon that comes with leather, an optional diesel engine, along with a host of other features, all together in a well-built package that is actually a lot of fun to drive. Combined with an unparalleled warranty, and here you have what is undeniably a great car. But despite being a better vehicle than BMWs 116i, it’s not a luxury car. And the BMW is.
Forgetting the physical experience of luxury, the rest of it is defined by marketing and public relations. How you feel about Apple or Virgin or Lexus is sculpted by their PR departments over many, many years. The fact that Americans see the Infinity G37 as a luxury coupe, rather than a humble Nissan Skyline, is because of modified perception.
In Australia, Lexus is the perfect example. Perpetuated as the thinking man’s crumpet, Toyota has positioned the L badge as a genuine competitor to the Europeans. We all know that the ES300 was a Camry in a tuxedo, but to golfing grandfathers everywhere it’s a luxury sedan without the ostentatious statement of a German saloon.
Without the high quality of their engineering and craftsmanship, I suspect Lexus would have failed as a brand. They don’t have the history to back themselves up and I think only now are they starting to forge their own character.
At a recent design forum by BMW, artist Thomas Demand said that nowadays luxury is more inwardly focussed, rather than outwardly expressed. Modesty was the overriding message. This makes me think of the rise in popularity of apartments converted from warehouses all over the world as an example.
Even without being able to clearly define it, we all know what luxury is. We know it when we are immersed in it, and we know when it’s being faked. It is not just the material, but the quality of the material being used. The fit and finish of our surroundings. The character; the modesty; the heritage. And, of course, the price.
Two years ago the Monash University Accident Research Centre invited me to the launch of Going Solo, a booklet for parents of young people about to embark on independent driving. After enjoying a coffee and some pastries I went down stairs, jumped in the X-Trail, and drove through torrential rain to Mount Buller.
It is absurd, I thought, that young drivers are allowed to drive in these same conditions, on these same roads, without any formal training. The only practical driving test they must be complete is proving to someone they can correctly parallel park. Not confidence inspiring stuff.
The Going Solo booklet was designed to help convince parents to hand the keys to their kids, thus giving them more time and experience on the road. Addressing the problem of overprotective parents was certainly needed. But it’s an indirect solution to the real problem: a fantastic lack of experience in new drivers.
In 2001 the Monash University Accident Research Centre conducted a study on the impact of driver training on young people. Many people incorrectly cite this study as proof that driver training actually increases the likelihood of being involved in a collision due to the confidence that is instilled in the participants. These were not the findings of the study. In fact, the paper found that many people had stopped speeding and tailgating after participating in the training. The study recommended that driver training be considered by road safety experts in the future.
But even as recently as 2007, when I spoke to a senior researcher at MUARC, she held the position that driver training is detrimental to young drivers.
Two months ago a good friend of mine called to tell me that she’d almost had an accident. Driving in heavy rain, Georgia had read the road ahead and prepared herself for someone to do something stupid. Sure enough, a car pulled in front of her, causing her to jump on the anchors, the ABS shuddering through the pedal of her Yaris, and she successfully steered her way around the moron.
For Christmas a friend had bought Georgia a place at the BMW Driver Training day at Phillip Island. She says were it not for that, she would have ploughed into that dickhead; with possibly dire results.
It’s no secret that insurance companies are the safest gamblers you’ll ever find. They base everything they do on well-funded, well-founded research. Know this: many insurance companies lower your premiums if you’ve completed a driver training course. This means that they think you’re less likely to have a crash. If it makes you safer on the road, why isn’t driver training compulsory for new drivers?
The answer is logistics.
Can you imagine – every fresh-faced 18 year old that gets their licence, every day, hundreds of them throughout Australia… How could every one of them possibly take part in a day-long course? It would be a nightmare. I don’t know many driver training companies there are in Australia, but my guess would be not enough.
So the government continues to cite incorrect “evidence” that is also completely out of date, because it sounds better than saying ‘It’s too hard.’
My solution? Introduce driver training as a compulsory subject in senior school.
We have subjects that teach cooking, money management, law, art, computer skillz, sports, media… hell, even English is compulsory. But if you want to be a tradie, not knowing how to correctly insert quotation marks isn’t going to kill you. Not knowing how to brake correctly just might.
Yes, this raises a host of issues and would be hard for schools in remote areas – I’m not saying it won’t present problems – but really, this is about reducing the number of deaths and serious injuries suffered by thousands every year. I’m sure we could work through the hurdles with that promise. I would happily teach kids how to drive, and I know a lot of others that feel the same.
Give me one term with a classroom of year 12 students, and I’ll scare the shit out of them. And not just with my body odour, but with pictures, videos, real-life accounts of car accidents. Have them talk to someone with acquired brain damage. As I said in Part One, there could be excursions out where kids get to see how much damage is caused at 50kph. We could incorporate it with the proposed buy-back scheme for older cars (designed to encourage the sales of newer, safer vehicles) and kill two birds with one stone.
I know this seems like a long shot, but to me, it’s insanity to ignore this issue any longer. At some point we need to stop relying on technology to save us, and start taking responsibility for what is going on.
I’m not really all that masculine.
It’s ok, I accepted this many years ago. I’d head down to the local discotheque of a Saturday night and feel completely out of place amongst all the meat-heads. And it’s not that I felt inferior as a man; I would just rather spend my time perfecting my heel-toe technique than learning how to dance with my crotch.
But despite not being ‘one of the boys’ there really isn’t much that genuinely scares me. Spending my life in a dead-end job scares the hell out of me. A loveless marriage scares me. And car crashes scare me.
I’ve been in quite a few over the years, and almost all as a passenger.
The worst was in of July of 2007. My two best mates and I drove to Stockton Beach north of Sydney to test out the FJ40 Land Cruiser soft-top one of them had just bought. We were driving along the beach just before dawn so we could watch the sunrise at the waters edge before we’d have our day of fun. As we were driving up a slight incline in the dark, we were unaware that the other side of the dune had washed out. We careered over the edge, landing on the nose of the car, and rolling onto the roof. Of course, there was no roof, but luckily there was a roll cage installed. It saved our lives. Incredibly, the cage itself had actually punched through the floor about a foot due to the force of the crash. Still upside-down, my mate grabbed the hanging UHF and shouted for the Land Cruiser that was following us to stop. That was enough for them to jump on the brakes just before they came over the top and hit our nose. And I was trapped in the back for a few minutes drifting in and out of consciousness.
I remember telling my mother, at about the age of 16 and whilst I was driving, that I probably won’t die because of speeding or drifting. I said to her that I thought I would most likely die changing the CD when I was at the wheel.
I still think that’s true. But at that age, I had no real grasp of how to look for an accident. Now I think the biggest contributing factor to the young road toll is that that can’t visualise an accident.
When I’m driving I’m always sub-consciously looking for the worst possible outcome. And it comes from knowing what it’s like to spin out at high speeds; what it feels like to be the ice in a cocktail shaker; and the sound of screetching tyres and metal and glass as they crunch together.
A couple of years ago I was interviewing one of Australia’s leading womanising stuntmen, and he was telling me about a time he took his son out near his farm. He’d picked up an old Volvo, put a helmet on the kid, and taken him down a back road. And then he rolled the car. Purely to show him how easy this was to do.
By the look of his nose, this guy had been in one too many accidents without the proper safety equipment – but his story really struck a chord with me. Why the hell aren’t we crashing our children in cars from a young age?
Driver training centres simulate wet conditions and how to control a car in the event of over or understeer. Why shouldn’t we put them in cars and roll them? Or drive them into a wall at 40kph? I swear to God, this would have a genuine effect on the road toll.
Not only would young people love being strapped into a car and crashed, they would realise the fine line between being in control, and not. Realistically, you wouldn’t have to put them in the car. Put them a safe distance away and let them watch the carnage.
There really aren’t many things that scare me. But being a passenger in the car of a young driver scares the shit out of me.
I have a depressed friend.
The other night we started talking about what makes us happy. Not just happy, but when we are at our happiest.
Sitting – as I did just last night – at a pokey little jazz club in my beloved Melbourne, surrounded by friends, amazingly talented musicians, and complimented with a good glass of red was high on the list.
Curled up on the couch with a warm girl (yes, girl) under a blanket, watching DVDs next to a roaring open fire as the rain washes against the window – again, this was pretty high up there.
Also on my list was something that I’ve been lucky enough to experience more than once in my life. A beautifully bright, sunny day, coupled with a fast car (convertible or open sunroof, please) and a winding road next to the sea. Add to that a CD of some shameless house music or happy drum & bass, and life couldn’t be better.
There are some other things on the list that I’ll spare you, as I’m sure you can imagine what most guys my age want.
Everyone seems to be searching for happiness in this life. And I think they’re missing the point.
Of course you should be striving for happiness, but the problem is most wouldn’t know how to define it. For me, happiness is freedom and happiness is friends. And a good soundtrack to go with whatever we’re doing.
A good friend of mine, Pinstripe, has a similar outlook on life. Despite his strange fetish with French cars (francautomania), we spend most of our time together discussing what cars we should give a home to.
He’s a bit of a traditionalist. For him, a car must handle like it’s about to go compete at the Mt Buller Sprint. It must be powerful enough to eat almost anything at the Dandy drags. And it has to make a statement.
His list of cars reads like the contents page of Fast Fours, with a few turbo sixes and a V8 thrown in for good measure. Like many of our loyal readers, stepping out of the elevator and walking to his car fills him with joy. And like those same readers, nothing can compare with driving that car on a mountain road in the dead of the night.
Luckily for us, Pinstripe is the latest contributor to Track Shun. I hope you enjoy his love of all things fast as much as I do.
There is a question I’m constantly asked. Almost without fail, when a car apathist enquires as to how much I’ve just spent on an upgrade, or the price of my next car, they ask:
“How can you justify spending that much?”
My answer is always the same. If I were really into fishing I would own many fishing rods. Some made out of carbon-fibre, some designed to get one type of fish or another. I would spend $2,000 on a fishing rod without blinking because fishing is what I get pleasure from.
But I’m not into fishing. I’m into driving. I love cars and the pleasures they evoke when I drive them. So I spend lots of my money on cars.
Generally, they’ll nod, respond with “fair enough,” and walk away to do something non-car related.
For my friends and I, spending money on our cars is perfectly justified. They are a giant blank canvas for which we can change and manipulate in order to represent ourselves. By sliding into the driver’s seat of a car, you are more or less putting on another set of clothes. To us, it can be the difference between Fubu and Armani.
Anyone who knows anything about fashion realises that putting on an expensive garment isn’t about showing off. Of course, that element is always a part of it, but it’s more about the quality of the material, the manufacture, and the fit. Primarily, though, it’s about how you feel when you put it on.
A car is no different. What type of car you drive says a lot about you. A modified car, and how it is modified, says so much more.
Take for example the Toyota Corolla – the standard by which all other small cars are compared. Most believe it to be a perfectly uninspiring and inoffensive vehicle, and they’d be right. Until you realise that the Corolla badge has a history steeped in performance.
Since it was first introduced in 1966 the standard run-of-the-mill Corolla has been accompanied by its performance stable mate: the Sprinter. Originally a sport-back coupe (not to be confused with the sport-back moniker used to identify wagons nowadays), the Sprinter was sold as the slightly sexier, slightly more desirable, sometimes faster variant. Over the years there have been a number of changes to the performance name, but the idea has never changed.
Arguably the best known of the Sprinters is the AE86. Most people wouldn’t even realise it was actually a Corolla. A sleek fast-back (hatch coupe) with a north-south 16-valve 1.6 litre 4AGE, the AE86 is the spiritual forefather of drifting. The featherweight rear-wheel-drive proved that, just like its predecessors before and its successors thereafter, you don’t need high horsepower to successfully compete on (or off) the track.
In 2003 the ninth generation Corolla was released; and with it, the Sportivo – the reinvention of the old Sprinter nameplate.
And here we have one of the most underrated, unassuming performance hatches on our roads. Chosen by Lotus to be used in their Elise and Exige models, the Sportivo enjoyed a 141kw 1.8 litre engine mated to a 6-speed manual gearbox. Granted, this was a damn expensive vehicle from new when compared with others, even with standard leather. But despite the famous Corolla depreciation (or lack thereof) the Sportivo remains one of the best-value hot hatches in the used car market.
Allow me to introduce Blind Kid Seeks, Track Shun’s latest contributor. His stark white Toyota Corolla Sportivo, riding on black multi-spoke wheels with subtle eyelids says a lot about who he is. Unlike your typical ricer hatch, his is a very clean vehicle. One that speaks directly to other enthusiasts.
BKS will give another perspective to the joys of driving, particularly in the areas I have little authority to speak on – that of spirited front-wheel-driving. As someone who works in the fashion industry and is always up with the latest trends, perhaps his car speaks more about his persona than most. Like a clean-cut Calvin Klein suit, it is maybe not the first thing traditionalists think of, but it’s very well respected by those in the know.
Despite our five year gap, my big brother and I share very similar tastes. I bought my first Linx Java when I was ten after I discovered his can of Java. I watched the shows he loved, and hated the shows he hated. I even stole his dinner recipes to impress girls. So when I became old enough to form opinions of my own, I started to listen to what my heart really longed for.And from that came two major differences between us: He likes films; I like cars. He likes mint chocolate; and I don’t so much. My brother likes movies probably about as much as I like driving. I love the cinema too, but I just like driving that little bit more. In the same way that you like both movies and driving, but you just prefer bourbon and porn.You see, in a cinema you can sit back and for 80 minutes you forget about your bills, forget your chores, and give yourself to the director. You allow yourself to be taken from your world. And if the director is any good they will capture your attention and play with your emotions. They will stimulate your senses. Even touch, depending on how good the subwoofer is.It’s not a big jump to find parallels between a cinema experience and driving. And I’m not talking about popping down the shops in your mum’s Festiva. I mean real driving. The type of driving that most people haven’t genuinely experienced, and therefore assume people who are ‘into’ driving need a testicle removed.Real driving. Just like in a cinema, you sit in a big hugging seat with surround sound and a big screen in front of you. But there is something more, I think. In the right car, on the right road, every sense is electrified. Being able to feel, through every part of your body, that you’re pushing the limits of what is physically possible. In the right car, on the right road, at the right time, you can experience the same sort of escapism that films, bourbon, and illicit drugs provide. Imagine a winding piece of blacktop, with a fatal drop to your left and a wall of rock to your right. Your windows are down, so you can better hear the howl from the exhaust as you accelerate out of the corner. Hitting four and a half grand in third, you push hard into the brake, blipping the accelerator with your heel as you punch the clutch and grab second, holding the wheel with your right hand as it fights against you. Off the brakes, the car dives into the corner, your right foot applying pressure to the throttle as you touch your first apex; second apex; the front tyres scrambling to maintain grip. You see your exit line and open the throttle, getting ready to set the car up for the next series of corners.It’s like a movie, but instead, you’re the star. You’re not watching someone else experience the adventure. It’s you that is in control.There’s also an argument that you’re far less likely to die in a cinema than you are pushing a car to its limits on a winding road. Which is fair enough. Some nights I just want to lie on the couch and watch someone else play with danger as I eat the cold popcorn that slid down the side of the couch.But there is a certain something about spirited driving that I don’t experience anywhere else. A roller coaster gives a similar rush, but not in the same way. You know what to expect as you’ve watched it go around two dozen times as you waited in the line, and you’re not responsible for the consequences should something go wrong. Unless you’ve decided to eat a dodgy hot dog from that Bedford van around the corner before you lined up. I think it’s unfortunate that the line has blurred between people who love cars, and those who love driving. Granted, most people who love driving also love cars, but it’s not always the other way around. Cars with four-pots mated to autos and wearing 21” chromies is a testament to that. Which is partially why I’ve created Track Shun. The majority of editorials and car blogs focus on the current state of the automotive industry and on new car releases, and very few talk about the love of that driving experience. Of course, I’ll be talking about the industry and new cars, too, but it’ll be smarter and funnier. Probably the biggest similarity between my brother and myself is that we are both very passionate about the things we love. And seeing as Top Gear Australia decided not to hire me, this blog will have to do.
