Bored, bored, bored. I feel like I'm a schoolboy again. It's like it's the middle of
the summer holidays and I've run out of things to do. The manufacturers keep
trying to entertain me but I'm not having any of it. I'm in a strop and I'm
determined not to be entertained whatever they send me.
I'm inundated with pictures of their latest concept cars. The PR agencies
dress up the press releases with much hype about being the first vehicle to do
this, the first vehicle to feature that, the innovative nature of the lumbar
support and how they're attacking a previously unknown section of the market
known as sport-obsessed techno-savvy bean-munchers.
The obsession with categorising the population is one I am familiar with
myself of course. Branding any driver with no interest in torque figures as a
numpty, I'm as guilty as the next man of pigeon holing. Perhaps I need to be
more inventive however. If the manufacturers have identified a sector of the
population that needs a car capable of carrying two surf boards, a 3 day old
baby and a wheelchair as well as having off roading capabilities then I'm sure I
can do better. For each Generation X or urban married professional I can give
you Blue-Rinse-Able-Bodied and Hormonal-Teenager-about-to-crash.
If car manufacturers are to really turn a corner in satisfying demand I
suggest they stop romanticising about their cars. Hoping that punters will
aspire to the lifestyles suggested is folly. They need to build cars for the
real world. The fact is that if you buy a Honda Civic, you'll probably use it to
drive to Bingo in Slough and you'll need protection against car jackers. You
won't drive to a bar in a sun-stroked suburb of Barcelona with a slinky bint in
the back swapping out of her nurse's uniform.
Jaguar have a similar 'aspirational' them. If I was to buy an S Type I'd
probably use it to hack up and down the motorways or to pretend that I'm in the
Sweeney. I wouldn't trek up to Scotland to drive past mad women dancing in the
rain.
I'm not a new-age, generation X+1, affluent sub-urban professional who spends
the weekends polishing my windsurfer and breast feeding the neighbours' kids.
I'm a bloke. I'm a bloke who likes beer and avoiding exercise. I need a car with
an engine large enough to offend people, small enough so that I don't have to
haul anyone's kids around and stylish enough to make me think I'm a sex god (as
long as I don't get out of the car). I don't need to off road unless it's due to
over exhuberance, I don't need wipers that turn themselves on when entering
Wales and I don't need an electic fan cooling my ring.
We're all too soft when it comes to cars. Next time you're in a showroom and
the salesman demonstrates the memory feature for the electric mirrors, grab him
by the slippery lapels on his shiny suit and tell him you want the interior
stripped out before delivery and a full roll cage put in. Bugger the baloon
payment, tell him you'll rob a bank in the afternoon and have used fivers to pay
before closing.
Come on manufacturers - where's your edge? GT40 - it's a start I suppose.
What next? How's about a 1950's style V8 saloon with leather bucket seats, a
huge stereo, no cup holders and more power than Tony Blair? Honda - if you want
to attract the youth market, stop dicking about with cars call 'Jazz' and give
me a 300bhp Honda S2000 called Bert. Aston Martin - please don't build some
noncy sub-DB7 car to cater to 'design types' who wouldn't know horsepower from
hearsepower. Put four superchargers on the Vantage, give it squared off arches
and go rallying. Vauxhall - turbo charging the VX220 isn't enough. Import the
Holden V8 pickups and let's give white van man a car in which he can exceed the
sound barrier. Where are the Metro 6R4s, the Ford Cosworths with ridiculous
wings and the Lotus Carltons of the 21st Century?
No one is daring any more. It's boring.
I'm off to throw some stones at old ladies...