Driving Without Borders from Ben Zachariah on Vimeo.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Driving Without Borders
In July of 2013 I purchased a 1993 Ford F150 Flare-Side V8 and drove from one side of North America to the other. I wrote about my adventures on the blog Driving Without Borders. Here is a small video I made of the roadtrip.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Down & Out
I'm a bit of a closet Mitsubishi fan. My very first car was a 1979 Lancer fastback, and the brand has always done things that quietly impressed me. But everything they did felt like it could have been better still. (The pillarless Magna, the Triton, the capped-price servicing, to name but a few.)
The all new Mitsubishi Outlander continues that theme. In each generation of model variant, you look for and expect the car to feel like better version of the last. I felt that in my last article on the Hyundai i30. I felt it recently in the new Opel Astra. The thing about the Outlander is that it feels newer, like it has lots of technology and stuff for the salespeople to point at, but to the detriment of the car.
The CVT gearbox, which literally means Constant Variable Transmission (don't think about the name for too long), is just as shit as it's even been in any car, ever. Much like the transmission in the old Honda HRV my mother owned, it feels like a metal box filled with rubber bands that are controlled by the processor of an early Motorola Razr flip-phone. It's clunky, unintuitive, and absolutely fucking pointless when we have a century of R&D that makes conventional automatic transmissions infinitely superior.
The interior is a bizarre mix of excellent quality and very poor quality. The woodgrain in the Aspire model tested is actually quite good, but the centre dash uses an inconsistent piano black trim instead, surrounded by cheap plastic. The steering wheel is too thin and the leather too cheap, but the switches are great. The indicator stalk is not. I like the Rockford Fosgate stereo, but the super-bright screen for the grainy reverse camera almost blew my head off when I was in a dark car park at night.
Out on the road, the Outlander continued the theme of excelling in some areas and being really strangely bad in areas where it should be good. I like stiff suspension in my cars as it provides better feedback, and feedback means more information to the driver. The Outlander's front-end is stiffer than a teenage boy in a tittie bar, yet somehow provides absolutely no feedback through the incredibly odd steering. It felt like the steering box was made of cardboard. I've never felt anything like it and I absolutely hated it. The headlights are perfect. What truly surprised me, though, was how well this thing corners. The Electronic Stability Control is subtle and ensures the car is where-ever you want the front-end to point. The brakes and Electronic Brake Distribution work effectively. The engine is asthmatic and should be used in portable generators only. The ECO and 4WD buttons are laughable.
With Mitsubishi dropping their 10-year drivetrain warranty on their new cars, there's less incentive to buy one of their cars. Once you drive the all new Outlander, the incentive is almost nil. Bizarre is the word that keeps jumping in my head when I think of the latest Mitsubishi Outlander. It's like they've started with the old model, pop-riveted a bunch of new technological gadgets that they bought from eBay onto the car, and failed to drive it to see if any of it actually made the car better. If you're looking for a soft-roader, either get an ix35, or wait for the new Rav4 to arrive.
The all new Mitsubishi Outlander continues that theme. In each generation of model variant, you look for and expect the car to feel like better version of the last. I felt that in my last article on the Hyundai i30. I felt it recently in the new Opel Astra. The thing about the Outlander is that it feels newer, like it has lots of technology and stuff for the salespeople to point at, but to the detriment of the car.
The CVT gearbox, which literally means Constant Variable Transmission (don't think about the name for too long), is just as shit as it's even been in any car, ever. Much like the transmission in the old Honda HRV my mother owned, it feels like a metal box filled with rubber bands that are controlled by the processor of an early Motorola Razr flip-phone. It's clunky, unintuitive, and absolutely fucking pointless when we have a century of R&D that makes conventional automatic transmissions infinitely superior.
The interior is a bizarre mix of excellent quality and very poor quality. The woodgrain in the Aspire model tested is actually quite good, but the centre dash uses an inconsistent piano black trim instead, surrounded by cheap plastic. The steering wheel is too thin and the leather too cheap, but the switches are great. The indicator stalk is not. I like the Rockford Fosgate stereo, but the super-bright screen for the grainy reverse camera almost blew my head off when I was in a dark car park at night.
Out on the road, the Outlander continued the theme of excelling in some areas and being really strangely bad in areas where it should be good. I like stiff suspension in my cars as it provides better feedback, and feedback means more information to the driver. The Outlander's front-end is stiffer than a teenage boy in a tittie bar, yet somehow provides absolutely no feedback through the incredibly odd steering. It felt like the steering box was made of cardboard. I've never felt anything like it and I absolutely hated it. The headlights are perfect. What truly surprised me, though, was how well this thing corners. The Electronic Stability Control is subtle and ensures the car is where-ever you want the front-end to point. The brakes and Electronic Brake Distribution work effectively. The engine is asthmatic and should be used in portable generators only. The ECO and 4WD buttons are laughable.
With Mitsubishi dropping their 10-year drivetrain warranty on their new cars, there's less incentive to buy one of their cars. Once you drive the all new Outlander, the incentive is almost nil. Bizarre is the word that keeps jumping in my head when I think of the latest Mitsubishi Outlander. It's like they've started with the old model, pop-riveted a bunch of new technological gadgets that they bought from eBay onto the car, and failed to drive it to see if any of it actually made the car better. If you're looking for a soft-roader, either get an ix35, or wait for the new Rav4 to arrive.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Small Surprises
It’s taken me years of practice to properly explain to normal people why it is that I’m a car guy. And since Hyundai released the first i30, it’s taken me years to figure out how to explain to other driving enthusiasts why it’s such a great car.
The first time I drove the original i30 it was a turning point for me. I’d never thought of a Hyundai as anything more than budget transport. But driving this zippy little hatch, I couldn’t keep the damn thing within the speed limit, and it remains the most fun I’ve had getting to and from a funeral. A few years later I took a diesel i30cw wagon down to Phillip Island for a weekend. It was bigger, better looking, and what it lacked in ‘zip’ it made up for with decent torque and amazing fuel economy. On the road the i30cw CRDi felt like a nose-heavy dart. With the weighty diesel engine at the front, the suspension felt like it struggled a little bit over road undulations, thumping and bouncing at its worst. Which wasn’t often.
Hyundai kindly loaned us their brand-spanking i30 diesel hatch as an evaluation vehicle for a time. My unabashed love for the previous model notwithstanding, I snatched the keys to see how this new model compares. It’s clear that their engineers have focused on the dynamics, playing with the suspension, moving the engine, and getting rid of that nose-heavy-dart feeling almost completely. The buttons, knobs, and all of the switchgear look as if they’ve been lifted straight out of the old model; which is no bad thing. Besides a redesigned interior with better quality plastics, it’s the ergonomics that impressed me. I really appreciate good ergonomics. The stereo also now comes with a built-in hard-drive so that you can transfer your favourite tracks so they’re always at hand. As a gift to my friends in the office, I’ve loaded up the stereo with a bunch of songs from a selection of genres.
The small capacity diesel, though not a powerhouse, is no slouch, either. Producing almost 100kw and 260nm, it’s more like a petrol engine in character. It’s mated to a traditional six-speed automatic transmission. For daily driving, the gearbox is damn-near perfect. It has the same feel of low-geared BMWs, taking off with purpose and no fanfare. For spirited driving, however, it’s not quite as capable. In manual mode, stuck next to that small oil-burning donk, it’s certainly got enough there to create some fun on twisty roads, but you’ll be wanting for more if you do any serious driving. The highway is where this car really shines, though. For the first time in a long time, I was actually enjoying driving down to the Peninsula and back. With a combined economy rating of 5.6L/100km, I almost ran out of fuel simply because I’d stopped remembering to look at the gauge.
It’s comfortable, practical, and one of the best all-rounders I’ve driven. In my mind, this model has overtaken the benchmark Toyota Corolla and market-favourite Mazda3, and now sits on par with the Honda Civic in terms of build quality. Hyundai have also introduced capped price servicing for the first three services, and are now offering 0.9% interest. But the kicker for me is the five year, unlimited kilometre warranty.
I’m clearly not the target market for this car. I’m a car guy that prefers manual, rear-wheel-drive cars with big engines that I can abuse all day long and generally break down on me all of the time. The idea of me owning an automatic Korean diesel hatch is absurd. But for a split second there, the thought did cross my mind. And that says a lot about this car.
The first time I drove the original i30 it was a turning point for me. I’d never thought of a Hyundai as anything more than budget transport. But driving this zippy little hatch, I couldn’t keep the damn thing within the speed limit, and it remains the most fun I’ve had getting to and from a funeral. A few years later I took a diesel i30cw wagon down to Phillip Island for a weekend. It was bigger, better looking, and what it lacked in ‘zip’ it made up for with decent torque and amazing fuel economy. On the road the i30cw CRDi felt like a nose-heavy dart. With the weighty diesel engine at the front, the suspension felt like it struggled a little bit over road undulations, thumping and bouncing at its worst. Which wasn’t often.
Hyundai kindly loaned us their brand-spanking i30 diesel hatch as an evaluation vehicle for a time. My unabashed love for the previous model notwithstanding, I snatched the keys to see how this new model compares. It’s clear that their engineers have focused on the dynamics, playing with the suspension, moving the engine, and getting rid of that nose-heavy-dart feeling almost completely. The buttons, knobs, and all of the switchgear look as if they’ve been lifted straight out of the old model; which is no bad thing. Besides a redesigned interior with better quality plastics, it’s the ergonomics that impressed me. I really appreciate good ergonomics. The stereo also now comes with a built-in hard-drive so that you can transfer your favourite tracks so they’re always at hand. As a gift to my friends in the office, I’ve loaded up the stereo with a bunch of songs from a selection of genres.
The small capacity diesel, though not a powerhouse, is no slouch, either. Producing almost 100kw and 260nm, it’s more like a petrol engine in character. It’s mated to a traditional six-speed automatic transmission. For daily driving, the gearbox is damn-near perfect. It has the same feel of low-geared BMWs, taking off with purpose and no fanfare. For spirited driving, however, it’s not quite as capable. In manual mode, stuck next to that small oil-burning donk, it’s certainly got enough there to create some fun on twisty roads, but you’ll be wanting for more if you do any serious driving. The highway is where this car really shines, though. For the first time in a long time, I was actually enjoying driving down to the Peninsula and back. With a combined economy rating of 5.6L/100km, I almost ran out of fuel simply because I’d stopped remembering to look at the gauge.
It’s comfortable, practical, and one of the best all-rounders I’ve driven. In my mind, this model has overtaken the benchmark Toyota Corolla and market-favourite Mazda3, and now sits on par with the Honda Civic in terms of build quality. Hyundai have also introduced capped price servicing for the first three services, and are now offering 0.9% interest. But the kicker for me is the five year, unlimited kilometre warranty.
I’m clearly not the target market for this car. I’m a car guy that prefers manual, rear-wheel-drive cars with big engines that I can abuse all day long and generally break down on me all of the time. The idea of me owning an automatic Korean diesel hatch is absurd. But for a split second there, the thought did cross my mind. And that says a lot about this car.
Friday, July 8, 2011
The Prancing Horse
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
2011 Australian International Motor Show
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.
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.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Traning Wheels, Postscript
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Practically A Porsche
When the Cayenne was released almost a decade ago it was somewhat controversial. The car was pretty ugly, it felt poorly designed, and it didn’t drive the way one would expect a Porsche to drive, SUV or not. We were expecting something better than the benchmark SUV at the time, the BMW X5, and it just wasn’t.
The second generation, all-new Cayenne is a different beast altogether. It seems to have shaken all previous criticisms and evolved into something worth pining for. Sitting in the supportive leather seat, the interior feels like it was based on Porsche’s four-door GT, the Panamera, which is no bad thing. The leather, plastics, and metal highlights really heighten the sense of luxury in the cabin. The buttons have an excellent feel to them, and none of the interior panels have that cheap hollowness to them that plagues cheaper (and not-so-cheaper) SUVs.
Porsche’s engineers really lifted their game with the new Cayenne. For sure, it’s nowhere near as rewarding to drive as its stable-mates, but as far as the luxury SUV sector goes, this is up there with the best of them. It’s a very easy car to drive on a daily basis and at no time do you feel as if you’re behind the wheel of the two-tonne tank that it is. There’s an overwhelming sense of weight and security behind this thing, but not at the expense of its handling or its pace. The Cayenne holds flat around corners and is beautifully neutral in feeling.
But it’s the engine that really impresses. The turbo diesel V6 strikes an almost perfect balance between power (176kw), torque (550nm), and fuel economy (7.4L/100 combined). The exhaust note isn’t as horny as the V8 option, but it means the car feels calmer to drive. That endless torque constantly invites your foot to sink into the pedal to propel the Cayenne down the road, in the same absurd fashion as the Range Rover Sport TDV6 or BMW X5 xDrive40d. It’s a very enjoyable machine to captain. Pulling up at the lights will trigger the auto stop/start feature which will turn off the engine to save fuel until you lift the brake, when the engine fires to life in an instant.
This particular Porsche also enjoyed keyless entry and start, which means that simply having the key in your pocket is good enough to jump in and drive off. The auto-tailgate was appreciated when carrying a few too many bags of groceries, and I’m sure the soccer mums with babes-in-arms will love it too. Handy features that make living with the Cayenne very easy. It doesn’t have the most luggage space in its market, but it has more than enough to satisfy most families. The ride height, coupled with its big doors, makes the Cayenne effortless to enter and exit.
If you’re looking at a practical, well-built SUV, it’s very hard to look past Porsche’s latest Cayenne diesel. It’s not going to break any land-speed records, but with a truckload of torque and CO2 figures that are better than a four-cylinder Mazda6, along with practical, real-world features and an excellent design, it’s very hard to ask for anything more in a luxury SUV.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Short Queue
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.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
A Black Heart
The car danced to the left and to the right as the transmission punched through the gears and the wheels scrambled for grip. Leaving pit lane, its monstrous throaty howl invaded the cabin. As it was a hot day, I dropped my side of the dual climate control down to a comfortable 20 degrees. We passed the braking marker and I was forced into the seatbelt before we pitched into the first corner at Sandown.
Generally, I hate being a passenger. I’m not very good at it. But on this occasion, I was more than happy to ride shotgun.
You see, the Mercedes-Benz CLK63 AMG Black Series is a very special car.
Since its release, this car has been at the top of my wish list. It has been one of my ultimate dream cars. And as much as I love and appreciate exotics, rarely do I covet any of them. But rarely do any of them stir the emotions like the Black.
Most get the mix wrong – too racey and harsh (Ferrari F430), or too luxurious and fat (Bentley Continental GT). Not the CLK63 Black Series. No, in this case, the recipe is perfect. This car is a combination of everything you could want in an enthusiast’s daily transport. Except for back seats.
With that massive engine propelling us out of the second corner, I was reminded of the CLS63 AMG I drove one year earlier at that same track. As with most AMGs, it was an executive’s car with a big powerplant dropped between the strut towers. At the time I wrote that the CLS pretended to know what it was doing around corners. The Black, however, knew exactly what it was doing at every point on the track. Its balance and poise is the stuff of legends.
This particular CLK63 Black was one of only 32 imported to Australia by Mercedes-Benz, and had exclusively enjoyed a diet of ELF racing fuel at $6 per litre.
The 6.2 litre V8 produces 373kw and 630nm of torque at 5250rpm and is mated to a lead-and-granite limited-slip differential. In the old language, we’re playing with a touch over 500hp – a healthy figure by anyone’s standards. But as emotive and addictive as this engine is, it is only one part of the package.
What impressed me most about this car was how it held the fine line between being a forgiving, predictable handler, and an exciting, raw supercar. Even whilst we were doing some rallying on the grass at the end of the back straight, the Black never felt dangerous or like it would bite back when pushed too hard. But we were sharing track time with Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and a host of other desirable supercars, and this comfortable Mercedes was holding its own. In many instances, it was even fighting back.
The only unimpressive thing about the entire car – and I mean the only thing – was the velour trim on the lightweight, body-hugging, fixed racing bucket seats. It really felt as if they should have gone for a suede material to keep with the carbon fibre and brushed aluminium theme. Velour trim is suitable for a Volvo 240, not a $300k Mercedes.
Hitting somewhere in the region of 240kph at the end of the back straight, the carbon-ceramic brakes dissolved the car’s speed with absolute composure. Into each corner the Black remained as flat as polished marble. Only after a number of laps in the heat of the day (and at the car’s limit) did the transmission start to overheat. Rather than putting itself at risk, the seven-speed auto simply went into comfort mode and refused to let itself be abused.
The thing about this car is that, save for the seats and lashings of carbon fibre, the interior feels just like a standard CLK. The stereo can hook up to your iPhone and there’s even an analogue clock sitting next to the speedo. It’s as if this car was designed by someone who loves nothing more than to escape to the country for the weekend. For a car that isn’t technically a GT, it is the most wonderfully competent GT I’ve ever experienced.
As with many things in life, the idea of something is often better than the reality. The CLK63 AMG Black Series looks incredible on paper, but is actually better in real life. It has the speed, the handling, comfort, and charisma in buckets. With those flared arches and that engine, it looks and sounds magnificent, too. The Black is one of those rare supercars that actually lives up to the dream.
Idling along in the pit lane, passing parked F430s, 911s, Gallardos, and even one Murcielago SV, I couldn’t help think how, having the choice, I would still go home in the Black. It’s automotive perfection.
Generally, I hate being a passenger. I’m not very good at it. But on this occasion, I was more than happy to ride shotgun.
You see, the Mercedes-Benz CLK63 AMG Black Series is a very special car.
Since its release, this car has been at the top of my wish list. It has been one of my ultimate dream cars. And as much as I love and appreciate exotics, rarely do I covet any of them. But rarely do any of them stir the emotions like the Black.
Most get the mix wrong – too racey and harsh (Ferrari F430), or too luxurious and fat (Bentley Continental GT). Not the CLK63 Black Series. No, in this case, the recipe is perfect. This car is a combination of everything you could want in an enthusiast’s daily transport. Except for back seats.
With that massive engine propelling us out of the second corner, I was reminded of the CLS63 AMG I drove one year earlier at that same track. As with most AMGs, it was an executive’s car with a big powerplant dropped between the strut towers. At the time I wrote that the CLS pretended to know what it was doing around corners. The Black, however, knew exactly what it was doing at every point on the track. Its balance and poise is the stuff of legends.
This particular CLK63 Black was one of only 32 imported to Australia by Mercedes-Benz, and had exclusively enjoyed a diet of ELF racing fuel at $6 per litre.
The 6.2 litre V8 produces 373kw and 630nm of torque at 5250rpm and is mated to a lead-and-granite limited-slip differential. In the old language, we’re playing with a touch over 500hp – a healthy figure by anyone’s standards. But as emotive and addictive as this engine is, it is only one part of the package.
What impressed me most about this car was how it held the fine line between being a forgiving, predictable handler, and an exciting, raw supercar. Even whilst we were doing some rallying on the grass at the end of the back straight, the Black never felt dangerous or like it would bite back when pushed too hard. But we were sharing track time with Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and a host of other desirable supercars, and this comfortable Mercedes was holding its own. In many instances, it was even fighting back.
The only unimpressive thing about the entire car – and I mean the only thing – was the velour trim on the lightweight, body-hugging, fixed racing bucket seats. It really felt as if they should have gone for a suede material to keep with the carbon fibre and brushed aluminium theme. Velour trim is suitable for a Volvo 240, not a $300k Mercedes.
Hitting somewhere in the region of 240kph at the end of the back straight, the carbon-ceramic brakes dissolved the car’s speed with absolute composure. Into each corner the Black remained as flat as polished marble. Only after a number of laps in the heat of the day (and at the car’s limit) did the transmission start to overheat. Rather than putting itself at risk, the seven-speed auto simply went into comfort mode and refused to let itself be abused.
The thing about this car is that, save for the seats and lashings of carbon fibre, the interior feels just like a standard CLK. The stereo can hook up to your iPhone and there’s even an analogue clock sitting next to the speedo. It’s as if this car was designed by someone who loves nothing more than to escape to the country for the weekend. For a car that isn’t technically a GT, it is the most wonderfully competent GT I’ve ever experienced.
As with many things in life, the idea of something is often better than the reality. The CLK63 AMG Black Series looks incredible on paper, but is actually better in real life. It has the speed, the handling, comfort, and charisma in buckets. With those flared arches and that engine, it looks and sounds magnificent, too. The Black is one of those rare supercars that actually lives up to the dream.
Idling along in the pit lane, passing parked F430s, 911s, Gallardos, and even one Murcielago SV, I couldn’t help think how, having the choice, I would still go home in the Black. It’s automotive perfection.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
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.
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.
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