Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts

Monday, 23 January 2017

8,000 drivers caught on phone to be given help with simple concepts


I found this article in the Daily Mirage. Interesting reading:

"Following  a crackdown by UK Police on people using mobile phones while driving, almost 8,000 drivers have been revealed as being utterly, utterly stupid.

The drivers, a large proportion of which had gormless expressions and looked like the kind of people you wouldn't want to talk to anyway, persisted in using their phones while driving, oblivious to the fact that other people, like the police, for example, could totally, like, see them doing it. 


Monday, 28 May 2012

The BMW 640d Vs Human Emotion


This isn't a review. Far from it. In a review I like to be relevant and objective, making like-for-like comparisons and reporting what I find. This is more of a an essay. A screed. A manifesto on what I like in a car. As such; prepare to go absolutely miles off topic.

So,  let's establish that everything Jeremy Clarkson wrote about the BMW 640d in the Sunday Times is pretty well bang-on. Yeah, it's blisteringly quick, quiet, smooth-riding and technologically accomplished. In terms of being a car, save for the fact that it only has two doors, it's one of the more complete cars I've ever driven. Where the current real-world sliding scale of vehicle adequacy is aligned, the 640 scores heavily in the "as good as it needs to be" sector of the dial. It's not perfect; I'm not sure any car is. But it doesn't fall down in any specific area. It's terrific.

And it's about as far from what I want in a car as I can possibly imagine.


Thursday, 23 February 2012

Faster miles an hour....With The Radio On:- Listening Habits.


 I like hi-fi. I come over all doe-eyed, hopeless and weakened when I visit a hi-fi dealership and find myself surrounded by brands such as Meridian, Musical Fidelity, PMC, I would go on but the resultant drool could cause a short in my keyboard.

At home I have what I maintain is a good sounding setup, even though it’s made up of a rag-bag of brands it would cost me a considerable hill of cash to swap it in for anything that would offer me a worthwhile upgrade. My girlfriend and I like nothing (well, maybe a few things) more than to sprawl across the sofa together with a carafe of wine and a good CD, something we can close our eyes and really get to grips with. It’s not about entertainment, it’s about escaping into the music. It’s a drug.

In the car, well, things are different.

Tuesday, 3 May 2011

Getting Reacquainted with the BMW Z4M

                       

Physically, I'm not really cut out for sports cars, and my grotesque 6’5 of malformed meat and gristle is definitely hard-pressed to find a comfortable slot behind the wheel of a Z4M. There is only one position I can adopt: seat right back and bolt upright, steering wheel in almost its highest position and as far away from me as it can be. 

Still, wile slightly clunky to describe, this posture actually turns out to be surprisingly comfortable - like sitting up eating breakfast in bed - and I emerged with no long-term lumbar injury after 150 miles at the helm. 

I seem to remember from previous Z4 experience that the manual seats can be set lower than the electric memory items; all those motors and wires must take up a fair amount of space beneath the drivers posterior. In the last Z4 M I had driven: a Roadster, I was forced to slouch and compress my spine to gain a view through the windscreen rather than over it.

In this Coupe, though, more so than the in soft-top, for some reason, my major issue was sideways visibility. To get a decent view out I had to physically duck to peer out of the very top of the side-glass. That all said, once installed in the office it felt like a very driver-centric place to be. This felt like meeting up with a friend I'd not seen for ages, and suddenly remembering why we got along so well

The dashboard itself is a model of simplicity, with a separate speedo and tach that integrate the fuel and temperature gauges; and idiot lights in the void between the two, all housed in a pod not much larger than the cluster on a fast bike. Minor controls (heated seats, traction control) are squirrelled away some distance forward of the gearknob, lurking below the spitfire-wing shaped fascia. Just below eye level is the trio of HVAC knobs together with the controls for the audio system. 

This particular car was fitted with the “Professional Navigation” package, as well as the Hi-Fi Speaker package with DSP (which, incidentally, seemed a bit shit -  more bass necessarily doesn’t mean better sound, especially when it isn't all technically bass at all, but an incessent boom clumsily applied right across the entire audio spectrum).


Truth is, though, when you're behind the wheel of one of these, you won’t really pay much attention to its interior. It’s just somewhere to sit. You’re far too busy looking along that impossibly phallic bonnet, with its suggestive power bulge denoting the 343hp S54 power plant beneath. The interior materials are actually very nice indeed; it’s as if the US plant were so stung by criticism of the old, E36-based Z3 that they responded by over-building the Z4 just to prove a point. Okay, it misses out on the tactile loveliness of the latest 5 and 7 series interiors, but it's a mile ahead of the unlovely X3 of the same era; a car that still has bile boiling up in my throat when mentioned.

Traditional “M” touches abound; the red, white and blue flash makes regular appearances, the gearknob shift pattern is illuminated in red (and incidentally lives at the end of a gearlever a good few inches longer than you might expect). The M-stitched steering wheel is, of course, the one bit of Z4 M that you’ll touch the most, or rather, hang onto for dear life. It feels a little odd to start with; its rim is squidgy and of about the same diameter as a childs forearm. That's actually quite fitting, though - getting the best from the M is a little bit like disciplining a defiant toddler. It needs to be shown who's boss in no uncertain terms.

When that legendary straight-six engine churns into life, the whole car feels connected with it. The S54's pulse throbs through the entire structure, and it doesn't feel anywhere near as machanically insulated or sound-deadened as when installed in the M3; but this only adds to the sense of occasion. A trip into whimsy might have you wondering if perhaps this is what taxiing in a WWII fighter felt like. 

The exhaust note isn't tuneful like an Italian V6, or evocative like the deep bellow of an American V8, rather, it's a full-bodied, broadband grinding sound that underpins the same mellow song as is sung any other straight six, but with more balls and a more mechanical edge. Give it a kick with the right foot and those balls drop, and the grinding is met by a howl, but the S54 never sounds like it's revving quite as high as it actually is. It sounds like the fastest, sportiest lorry in the world, one deliberately made to be slightly unrefined and workmanlike, and utterly addictive as a result. This is further reason to not bother with the Hi-Fi speaker package.


This moment was when my memories came flooding back. Four years prior, working in sales for BMW, we had a Z4 M Roadster, in Black Sapphire metallic, as a demonstrator, and the keys were particularly prized come evenings and weekends. Within working hours, too, it was a source of huge amusement; customers would regularly make a hilarious hash of things on test drives. Driving one of these smoothly is quite a measure of a driver - witness me, today, jumping behind the wheel and instantly embarrassing myself.

The gearstick needs a determined shove from first to second at high revs (they all do that, Sir) and this suits the character of the car. The clutch is heavy, like a competition paddle item, and its biting point is sometimes a little tricky to find; I found myself kangarooing and bunny-hopping down the road like an amateur, clinging on to the hope that nobody was watching. They were, of course: this is a bright red sports car that makes a lot of noise. Let them laugh, I don't care, I'll never see them again.


I suddenly remembered what this car was all about, and was at piece with the fact that you can't just jump into a Z4M and drive it well. It doesn't like drivers who pussy-foot around, preferring definitive, authoritative commands. Kick that clutch, boot that throttle, take it by the scruff of the neck and it will kiss you behind the earlobe and elicit a tingle in your 501s. before very long the M and I were on speaking terms, if not quite ready to share a drink.

My journey today took me right through the tourist traps of Central London, along the banks of the Thames and out past the manufacturing home of Ford of Great Britain. I don't instinctively know my way through the heart of the capital, so I called on the use of the Professional Navigation system this car was optioned with. It's functional enough, with a reasonable level of on-screen detail, though limited by not having postcode functionality. 

In the four years since I had last played, though, I had totally forgotten how to operate it; it's not in the least bit intuitive. Of course, these days BMW SatNav systems are linked to the famous and much maligned I-Drive control system. For all the hatred poured over that famous interface in all its years, we have to wonder what the state of the art would be like without it. The fact is that Audi's MMI system and Mercedes-Benz's similar offering are all derived from BMW's work. I wish I had it tonight.


No matter, soon I was on familiar roads and the low London speed-limits had released their stranglehold. For the rest of the trip the little red neon on the SPORT button would be permitted to glow. I had been deliberately waiting before deploying this, to somehow extend my period of excitement and ensure that I don't have too much fun all at once. In fact, the difference it makes is small but noticeable. It makes that already sensitive throttle even more so, adding a Cadbury's Flake to the already cherry-adorned Ice Cream that makes up the Z4 M Driving experience.

And that experience is something totally different to that provided by a regular Z4. That they look all but identical from the outside is almost a shame: the M car suffers in comparison with its plebeian relative. This generation of Z4 was always intended to be accessible. It's everybody's sports car. It could be bought in engine flavours from 2.0 to 3.0-litre, with various dress-up kits and ever more elaborate specification permutations. Whatever your purpose, from pilot to poseur, the glove would fit. Want to drive hard? A 3.0Si Sport with the manual 'box will entertain you. Want to cut a dash at the new salon on the Kings Road? A 2.0 SE will more than suffice.


And then there's the Z4M, which quickly gets to the bottom of what kind of driver you are. If you're a poseur, in it for the image and the glamour, chances are it will chew you up and spit you out and you'll get fed up very quickly. It's less a car, more a sparring partner. In the same way as some vastly more expensive and powerful cars, this ia s machine that demands commitment and effort. Its gearchange and that clutch combine with an engine so keen to rev that it can run away with you. If you're not fast on your feet, you can end up with spinning wheels, swapped ends and with the whole world revolving around you. Compared to the Z4, the M is savage. Wholly uncompromising. Brilliant.

And, yeah, it handles too. It isn't Elise agile - it's more a cage-fighter than a ballet dancer; instead it majors in involvement and entertainment. It encourages you to muscle in and does nothing on your behalf, but when you and it are working as a team, it feels like there's no limit to what you can achieve together.


It's a very singular machine, this, and one that almost defies evaluation. You simply can't grade it in the same way as you would so many other cars or products. The things I've been yammering on about, its clutch, gearchange and inaccessibility are among the Z4Ms defining characteristics, and they're flaws. They're imperfections, and would probably somehow have been finessed and polished out by any other manufacturer, but BMW wisely allowed them to remain. Similarly, bodywork and fine-tuning aside, this is basically an M3 Convertible. Yet that legendary model is far kinder, more tolerant and understanding of ineptitude than the Z4 M.

And that makes it. As a modern sports car it has more soul and definitive character than pretty much anything else I've driven. Everything else seems suddenly too obedient, too normal. So that's it. In conclusion, what I want from a sports car is brutality and lots of faults.

Character beats efficiency any day of the week.

                     

Click here to read about my drive of the Z4 2.0 SE, in August this year.

Monday, 7 March 2011

A badge is a badge. Mercedes-Benz’s adventures in the world of small.



When Mercedes-Benz first released the 190E in 1983 it was marketed as the new “small Mercedes”. Small for a Mercedes, maybe, but still so big that it left a whole sector of the market completely untapped.

To bring the fight to this battleground the first Mercedes A-Class was released in 1997 to a background of intrigue and wonderment. Mercedes were, for the first time ever, chasing the real small car market. 

Thursday, 27 January 2011

Roadwork Vacation:- Trans Europe Express Part Two


The following has already been hosted at Hooniverse where I'm eternally grateful to Tim Odell for all his support. I thought it about time I gave it a permanent home here, as it concerns one of the greatest weeks of my driving career.

Monday 6th October 2008 Bellagio, Italy to somewhere scary in the middle of Germany.

We had parked up in the wee small hours, and had no real idea where we had ended up, except that there had been many corners and we were obviously very, very high up. From inside the car all I could really see through the condensation was trees and I could smell the scent of a nearby bonfire. Seeing where we were for the first time in daylight, the car park turned out to be basically abandoned, with an uneven covering of flint gravel and several somewhat intercooler-unfriendly raised sections.

And then I saw the view.

Wednesday, 26 January 2011

Roadwork Vacation:- Trans Europe Express Part One.


The following has already been hosted at Hooniverse where I'm eternally grateful to Tim Odell for all his support. I thought it about time I gave it a permanent home here, as it concerns one of the greatest weeks of my driving career.

I may have been drunk when we came up with the idea. I admit it.

It was Hogmannay, 2007. Scottish New Year. I was in Edinburgh, having been invited by Izzy and Jade, two long term friends and lovers of fine cheeses. Izzy was in bed, leaving Jade and I in the living room of their waterfront apartment, amusing ourselves with cheese and wine. I don’t recall how it happened, but by sunrise we had both agreed to bugger off around Europe in a car. The WHOLE of Europe.

Wednesday, 29 December 2010

Driven #14:- BMW E46 320d Compact


Image and looks, two very separate things that just happen to be inextricably linked. See that cool guy over there? The handsome, well dressed guy? And that geek-chic girl he’s with? She’s really hot behind those glasses and the cable-knit sweater. And so it is, we will typically adjust our conceptions of a person’s image, depending on their looks. If a well-dressed man happens to be ugly people will say he’s craggy, or distinctive, or any of a thousand descriptions less insulting than simple ugliness. Ugly Betty, as we know, isn’t ugly at all. She just typically wears horrible clothes.

Tuesday, 14 December 2010

Zero degrees East.



Wikipedia tells us that the United Kingdom straddles the geographic mid-latitudes between 50-60 N from the equator. It is also positioned on the western seaboard of Eurasia, the world's largest land mass. These boundary conditions allow convergence between moist maritime air and dry continental air. In this area, the large temperature variation creates instability and this is a major factor that influences the often unsettled weather the country experiences, where many types of weather can be experienced in a single day. Sometimes, shit happens.

Monday, 13 December 2010

Fleet Review;- Remembering a Rover 820e


My grandfather is a veteran of world war two; with the RCAF he flew Lancasters and Halifaxes from Eastmoor in Yorkshire. After spending the war flying “twenty thousand rivets flying in close formation” over the ack-ack heavy skies of a burning Germany, it was clear that any car he would own would have to be imbued with some kind of mechanical allure. In fact, things started well with a pre-war Jaguar SS, albeit a heavily decomposed one with mushrooms sprouting from the wooden floorboards. He would later work through various big Humbers and Vauxhalls and company Fords right up to 1990, when be bought his first Rover. The one car I have loved most in my life.

Wednesday, 8 December 2010

Gran Turismo 5. It's only a game...

The Driving Seat

I think of myself as a fairly moderate driver. Most of the time, on the commute to and fro of work every bloody day I like to relax and listen to some music. In that horrible neverworld between bed and work, I don’t mind forgetting that I’m even in a car at all. As far as I’m concerned, at eight o’clock in the morning my car is just a comfy, warm room I sit in for half an hour, and then magically find myself twenty five miles down the road next time I open the door.

Sunday, 5 December 2010

Driven #10:- Toyota IQ


Let’s get the whistlestop review over with as quickly as possible. As an urban runabout the Toyota IQ makes a lot of sense. It takes up very little road or parking space; it’s less than ten feet long overall. It has been proven economical and will cost very little in road tax and, depending on who and where you are, insurance. It is also, within its remit, very pleasant to drive. Additionally it doesn’t feel like it’s trying as hard to create an image as other town-biased cars seem to, things like Smarts, Alfa Mitos and Minis. Toyota IQ drivers look a lot less like smug pillocks than Smart drivers do.

Monday, 22 November 2010

Driven #8:- Mk 3 Mondeo 2.2 TDci

 
In 1997 Grand Theft Auto was released in all its anarchic, top-down glory. Here was a game where you were encouraged to steal any and all vehicles found prowling the mean streets of Liberty City. The choice was huge, with public utility vehicles like ambulances, coaches and police cars, as well as motorbikes and supercars. Some of these were recognisable. The Ferrari Testarossa made an appearance, as did the Escort Cosworth, both iconic machines. You could understand their inclusion.

One car, though, stood out to me. Why have they included that? Also, why have they awarded it such an insulting in-game name? That car was the Ford Mondeo. And that name? Mundano. And a new cliché was born.

Monday, 1 November 2010

Think Bike? Bikers; Think!!

 

The Think Bike safety campaign currently on our TV screens is a hard-hitting and effective one. It reminds me that, when I drive, a ton and a half of mixed metals surrounds me; an exoskeleton to protect me in the event of something bad. A biker has no such armour. He is a meat envelope astride a powerful beast, far more vulnerable when shit goes pear. And yet, irrespective of the millions of quid being poured into looking after bikers, every time I see one taking the piss it makes me far less inclined to care.

Monday, 25 October 2010

Driven #5;- BMW Z4 sDrive35i


This article has since been republished in an updated form on www.hooniverse.com

Once upon a time, BMW was very good at preserving its principles. The famously stubborn brand said it "would never sell a front wheel drive car", a promise first rescinded by using the MINI brand as a workaround, and the more brazenly with the MINI-base 2 Series Active Tourer. For a long while, there "would never be a turbocharged M car", owing to the fear of corrupting throttle response sharpness - though that fear, it turn out, was later quashed by twin-blown engines in the most recent M3 and M5.

BMW also once strenuously denied they’d ever put a folding hard-top on a Z4. A sports car didn’t need one, they said. With the 3-Series they had held off from folding hardtops until they found a way of packaging one effectively without it ruining the weight distribution. 
 They finally managed, but you have to assume that they worked some kind of witchcraft to fit one on the E89 Z4 without exchanging the original's no-frills premium for no-thrills tedium.

Saturday, 23 October 2010

Driven #4;- 2010 Smart ForTwo Brabus.



It had been a windy day, the gustiest I had experienced for a while. I had enjoyed a foretaste of the weather when I flew my kite the previous evening. The wind at the weekend had been so unpredictable that I elected to fly my practice kite, and not risk crashing my pride and joy into the ground through poor kitemanship.

Leaving the house this morning it still looked to be windy out, the voices on the radio spoke of bridges closed to high-sided vehicles and I drove with some caution. But there was no fuss through the steering wheel of my A4, no sense that any lapse of concentration would cost me dear. Later, that same day, in the Smart things couldn't have been more different.


Uninsured? Undeclared? Unintelligent.



Kids like cars, kids like going fast in cars, so kids like fast cars. And kids will do everything they can to try to create the illusion of speed in their own cars, whether it be the sound of speed by fitting oversized, over-loud exhaust systems, or what they perceive as being the look of speed, with wide wheelarches, extra grilles, spoilers and wide alloy wheels, all of which ironically add to the weight of whatever 1.2 litre shopping trolley they’re nailed to.

Saturday, 16 October 2010

Good Cop Bad Cop

 

The police are easy targets for abuse and have been since the dawn of time. They prevent people getting away with stuff they shouldn’t be doing, they reduce profit levels for criminal gangs and they prevent kids from buying the life-threatening drugs they so badly want. But, ultimately, they’re there for our protection and, in essence, deserve our respect. So isn’t it about time they set about leading by example?

As a motorist, I see the police most frequently when I’m driving, and if I was to base my opinion of the force purely on the way they drive, then I would end up holding them in very low esteem indeed.

Wednesday, 13 October 2010

The Dark Side of Lighting.



Fair enough, you want to be seen, that’s cool. You guys in the ‘States have had DLRs and orange side marker lights for years. It was mandatory. All you chaps in Northern Europe, too, used to have permanently engaged sidelights. We became quite fond of 245GLEs cruising about with their little lights reminding us of their presence, not that Ye Olde Malmo Brick was particularly easy to miss anyway.....


Sunday, 26 September 2010

Just Another Saab Story



I have photos somewhere, I know I do, of my old Saab 9000. I loved that car, I loved its effortlessness, its total lack of brand stigma. I even loved its anaemic old two-litre non-turbocharged four cylinder engine. Yes, it was slower than the moon rising, but it was always with a pleasant, Saabey woofle from the exhaust as it dragged me down the road. This week I came awfully close to renewing myself as Pilot of a car Born From Jets.