Lada? Making a comeback you say? I'll let you into a little secret here. I like Ladas. As a teenager I used to make Skoda jokes but never repeated the comical quips that hurt my favourite Russian brand (well, favourite until I discovered another Russian that made talking to girls easier).

It all started back in the nineties when I learnt to drive in a Lada Niva. Pottering around an abandoned car hospital park, I was at an age where the non assisted steering really demanded that Gladitorial Scottish bloke to turn up and ask if the contenders were ready.

A Lada whatnow? "Was that the boxy one or the boxy but Fiat-y one?" I hear you ask.
For a brief rundown of the models to help the picture, that was the 4x4. The Riva was 'the one Lotus fettled on Top Gear' and the Samara was the other one that was reasonable at its job but mind-numbingly dull; otherwise known as the Lada-Leona-Lewis.
The Niva was tough, boxy and slow. However at the time we lived on one of those streets just on the brink of where the gritters can be arsed to go. 

Occasionally in the depths of winter we would be lucky enough to have a Mr Plough come around to help us out of the snow, but by this point it was usually too late and everyone had already resorted to turkey burgers for lunch. Our milkman however was the local hero; when his trusty float didn't fancy the cold he used to fire up the Series II Defender and just deliver the milk anyway. Frozen milk, but milk nonetheless.
One snowy day, his faithful Landie became stuck and couldn't get anywhere. My Dad however, armed with the Niva (and, presumably, a belly full of black tea) happily trundled down the road. I can't remember where he needed to go so urgently, but judging by what seems to be programmed into my brain from birth, I guess it was probably nowhere. 

I also fondly remember the days when the Lombard RAC Rally used to lay its plastic bedsheets down at Chatsworth House, a location that was less than an hour away. It was November, the parking was in a sloped field, and a large majority of car enthusiasts in attendance liked to drive RWD cars. Can you guess who helped out the tow cars? It was an unstoppable hunk of force.
As was, of course, the heater. If you design something for a Russian winter, no matter how much of a balls-up you make of it, the chances are it is going to be overengineered for a British winter. 

Surely it wasn't all happy times and demonic off-roading skills? Well no, it wasn't exactly a saint of reliability. We had three Nivas in total, two of which liked to give up the ghost randomly, even when en route home from the showroom (nearly new). One however proved almost faultless and never skipped a beat; that is the car we should all remember most fondly.

One day an enthusiastic young lady drove her (Mk3) Fiesta into the rear quarter of the first Niva. Since Lada had chosen to specify some leftover sections of railway line as bumper beams, they could take a hell of a hit and just shrug it off. There was a six inch dent on the corner beside The Beam, but little else worth mentioning. The Fiesta, being a few years old, was a write off.

On one occasion (whilst I was till practising hill starts) we had a Riva hire car. This was a revelation, with more feedback than I had ever experienced before through the steering thanks to front wheels unhindered by driveshafts. This very nearly led to a bizarre affliction for Rivas, I may even have turned into one of those strange people that only ever buys weird Eastern European cars. You know the sort, blokes that only ever drink foreign tea and are still confused by how you can get a model ship inside a glass bottle.I didn't take this photo but bloody love it... so please forgive me.
Luckily, I made it through, but having never driven another compact RWD saloon due to my young age, it was the best car yet and they make sense again now. Forget paying £15k for an old Mk1 Escort to turn into a track car, you can get a front-engined, RWD Riva for chocolate buttons and have the most unassuming project in the world (if you can find one). 
So think twice before laughing at the Lada louts, for about £500 you could go off-roading in one on Saturday, then pull off lurid tailslides on a track on Sunday in t'other.

Ready? 1,2,3 Go...

What is the first rule of selling a car in the classifieds? Tradition would say that it is one of two things: 
The first of these factors up for contention would definitely be photographs. They are not exactly hard to produce in this day and age when it is difficult to purchase a mobile phone without a camera, so just a few shots in daylight that are not taken from an upstairs window (you lazy arses) should suffice.

The second is 'information information information'. You don't need to witter on about how it once overtook a 2.0i Mondeo so "is actually really fast for a 1.6", just the basics like tax and test, mileage, service history, niggles and price are most of the way there.

However I have a new rule that should without a doubt be the first thing you think about when pondering whether or not to sell your car. Go to the bathroom, lean on the basin and look at yourself in the mirror very carefully. You can now asses the following: "Am I a twat?"

Autotrader (along with any other publication which prints tips on how to sell your vehicle privately) should really include a small pull-out vanity mirror in their bindings for potential candidates to have a quick peek and double check, for it is the number one rule of getting the price that you are looking for in the sale.

What has brought this on? No, it is not THE USE OF 

BIZARRE AND OFTEN HUGE ITALIC 

AND WIERDLY JUSTIFIED TEXT all over t'shop.

It is not even people who think it is fine and dandy to sell their car without a V5 and not state it in the description "as you just send off for one from the DVLA, what's the problem mate?" 

Infact (shock horror to those that have noticed I'm rather partial to eBay Motors) it is not even for once anything to do with our favourite auction site. 
You see yesterday I casually phoned a seller from a classified advert on Pistonheads, a website where the majority of users are assumed to have at least a vague interest in the automobile. I was not, truth be told, that interested in buying said car, merely seeking some more information. However this did not matter as the seller never answered. The phone (which I rang from my non-withheld mobile number) simply rang out after a minute, and there was no voicemail option. Less than a minute later I received a text stating merely the following two words in capital letters:

"WHO THAT"

Which was then sent again a few minutes later:

"WHO THAT"

Cheers mate, no wonder your car is still for sale (needless to say I had no intention of replying).
So the next time you think of advertising, just go and have a cheeky peek at yourself, you never know how much time it may save you. 

Every time I've opened my wallet in the last three days I feel just a little bit empty inside. Although any sort of spending activity is relatively rare (unless it involves some sort of secondhand car buying), I am greeted with a glum feeling that I haven't experienced for, well, about 10 years now.

I am licenseless.

Nope, I haven't done anything stupid; I've not V-maxed the A686 or driven around the M25 with a bottle of Duvel in my cupholder. I've simply sent off the little pink card of joy to those lovely folks in Swansea to be issued with a shiny new one, complete with a photo of someone that actually looks like me. Well, more than the old picture of some spotty child wearing a Sweater Shop jumper anyway.

The thing is, I can't think of any occasion when it has been out of my sight since first arrival, back when the world was celebrating The Death Of The Millennium Bug. The closest I've come to loss is wondering in my late teens; what would happen if a grunting nightclub bouncer just pocketed it and told me to piss off? What would I do? Threaten him with a fist the size of his sovereign ring and a Ford Escort 1.1 car key? Who knows, but it always worried me, I think I'd rather have my passport confiscated. 

Apparently the green paper chasers will try their utmost to return your card within 14 days, which is rather good of them, especially since you are paying £20 for the privilege (plus an inevitable £5 for the wonky-faced mugshots). I certainly hope so, since I need it in approximately four and a bit weeks.

Although the empty space in your mind is the most significant, what are you supposed to do with that clear plastic 'display pouch' (try not to think of Borat) on the one side of your wallet which just looks plain stupid unfilled. 
What would look best in its place on proud display to shopkeepers and pin stealers? 
A Nectar card? Nah, too common and why would you show off the fact that "they've got you" (as Mark Corrigan would say). Halfords Trade Card? Too geeky I feel. Nandos Loyalty Card? 

I think I'll just stay indoors.

I've inadvertently just announced my age...

Does this man...Prevention is better than cure, or so they say. But I think that 'they' are wrong (whoever these oracles of legend actually are), certainly when it comes to the finer details of life. Like basic aesthetics.
Talking about ourselves (as human beings), we all know from the news that every day something else is going to kill you or increase your risk of cancer. 

You could sit in a box all of your life eating fruit and vegetables and you might well live to a ripe old age (no pun intended). But where would be the fun in that? Life is all about a compromise that involves as much pleasure and personal satisfaction as possible without completely annihilating your chances of getting another go at it all tomorrow. 

Extreme folk who are into base jumping are happy to leap off skyscrapers, trusting their chances that the parachute will manage to slow them enough to prevent giving the waiting police cars an impromptu saggy headlining. Most of us however wouldn't take such a risk as we don't thrive on adrenalin enough to warrant it.

I tell you what I will do though, that is to use my body's rather clever natural defences, honed over thousands of years, to stop myself from contracting minor illnesses. 
Face masks were fair...drive this car? enough in the height of the bird/swine/man flu outbreaks, especially you were frail, elderly or worked with the sick. But for the average man on the street today after the worries have passed? Mate, you look like an idiot, get a grip.

The thing is, as with most of modern life, car culture has its unique automotive equivalent. The 'bonnet bra' for example. Or, to give it the more common name, the 'Thatcarlooksstupidwhatonearthisthatthingfor' as uttered by many tourists in the USA.
Yes you may well avoid a few stone chips and you won't have to try very hard to remove dead flies either, simply remove your leathered bondage bib and pop it in the wash with your microfibre cloths.

I'm sorry (and fully aware that they are quite fashionable in some styling circles), but they look ridiculous and define pointlessness, especially on vehicles that command a premium for their styling and design. What is the point of a nice looking vehicle if you have to cover the thing up like a gas guzzling gimp to go anywhere? You might as well leave it in the garage and try to feed it butternut squash soup.

Kaizen. Mean anything to you at all? A while back I had to endure a ‘Training Day’ dedicated to both this word and the hot topic of every production engineer worthy of his timeline spreadsheet; ‘Just in Time’ manufacturing.
These are the types of days out which add a little variety to an otherwise mundane working week, but somehow fail to inspire anybody to do their job differently. Team-building is all well and good but there comes an age when putting together a Lego helicopter in the least amount of time possible by using your new found team structure becomes a little tiresome.

So, to give a little insight, ‘Just in time’ manufacturing is a technique which, with shocking predictability, is founded upon the efficiency of a company not to hold unnecessary stock, but for the parts to arrive for assembly just in time (I’d like to think an Australian thought of the name).
Kaizen is a Japanese word which translates as ‘continuous improvement’ and means just that - to strive to be doing everything better on a continuous basis, from design, manufacture and management through to sales and support.

The idea obviously works. As a Japanese product, it is An excitingly dull car - The New Oxymoron GTRhardly surprising that the new Nissan GTR has become so renowned. Continuous improvement of an already spectacular achievement into something so technologically advanced that the fact the dash graphics were done by the same folk who designed Gran Turismo is the least of its similarities to virtual reality. Almost too clinical and well executed to need any human, let alone emotional attachment. Brilliant, but not necessarily what you are looking for in a vehicle, certainly not from one bought with the heart instead of the head.

Surely though, if we all lived and worked by these strict efficiency rules there would be no point in the industry. There certainly would be no point in my opinion or writing this for example, we would buy a car purely on the basis of the nearest garage to where we lived (and, let’s be honest, it would probably be a Kia Ceed).

So it boils down to character; just like design flair/passion/elegance, it is not something that has that as much of a chance to develop in a Kaizen environment where the designers and engineers are being prodded by a stick (proverbial or real carbon fibre) to be more productive. Alfa 156 rear door handles were probably thought up outdoors, supping Peroni. Great detail, great design, but the function is no improvement over the lesser known 155 handle.
Unfortunately for the passion seekers, these techniques have to be all the more important as car manufacturers strive to survive. With the onset of new regulations, environmental concerns and economic crises, the corporations have to bring in the polished Neil Godwins of the world to replace the David Brents.

No matter how hard they try though, no matter how efficient the ‘Just in time’ process becomes, there is always going to be the odd little hiccup up that slips through the net and seemingly goes unnoticed.
My favourite example of this philosophy started a few years ago when someone at Mercedes obviously looked at the design brief for the TVR Chimaera and realised that clean uncluttered panels added to the beauty of car design.
Shortly afterwards the ‘door mirror indicator’ was born, leaving the front wing of the new S Class unholier than thou, soon to be copied by aftermarket parts companies (and hence most modified hatches), then finally by every other premium mainstream manufacturer. However, such was the panic to keep up with all the Demon Freaks cars that the manufacturers’ parts supply processes hit a slight hiccup. There was an overlap of the old front wings (with indicator holes) and the new pattern wing which was as smooth as a baby’s, erm, arm (in these days of ‘Baa Baa Rainbow Sheep’ I really daren’t write anything about the private parts texture of a toddler).

Fear not though, there was a solution waiting in the wings. A quick and easy plastic badge, conveniently the same size as the lense that used to reside and displaying ‘Sharan’ or similar in raised chrome lettering (for all the public who wanted to know so much they just could not wait to see the back).
It was clever because the marketing types knew that the Sharan buying population of dullards wouldn’t spot this subtle coverup of almost government scale proportions, hence no one was any the wiser.

Automotive quirks at their very best, my Kaizen lecturer would be having a heart attack.

They are so rare it took me months to find one to photograph...

"I love you, in a way"Last month the world was having kittens when Notlee Noble announced that their new M600 supercar was going to cost £200,000. Yes, two hundred grand for a car that everyone likes to repeatedly point out is still going to be built in Leicester, as if the city is some sort of national embarrassment. Well it's not, it may not be the most exciting place in the UK (that award goes to Wellingborough), however if the M600 was built in Windsor it would probably cost £250,000. Ok?
Since only a select couple of people outside of the factory have piloted the new car to date, an official verdict is tough. However, when a trusted and well known Autocar staffer describes his experience as 'making the supercharged Ariel Atom look magnolia in comparison' you are rather inclined to believe the man that it is nothing short of outstanding.

This month, word on the internet street is that after 74.91 years of development, Lexus have finally started to get somewhere in producing their stolid supercar, the LFA. No word on what the last two characters stand for, but put it this way, the Tokyo display car was white, and most indulgent exotics that cost more than £100,000 find their way en masse to the Middle East these days.
The Lexus is going to be priced at £336,000 or thereabouts, a Gallardo (or rural 3 bed semi) more than the Noble. For that you get a car that is quoted to be slower in every respect, wears a badge that is, (let's be honest) just an inverted Toyota emblem, and thinks dishwater is the most exciting thing it has ever seen.

But don't worry yourselves, for this is being produced in Japan not "Back of the net"Barwell so we mustn't complain.
What we can do though is arrange ourselves in a neat little line and all bow down and salute that small industrial estate in the UK, if the consistently impressive Japanese engineers can't beat it for nigh on twice the price then it makes our little island and its Ancleicestors look even more impressive.
I wish them (and my Euromillions ticket) all the best of luck.

Aha, my delivery of pointlessness has arrived.So much to see, so much to do, oh so much to perspire. Having been to traditional UK Motor Shows and more quaint British events I was expecting to be wowed by the size of an event such as Frankfurt. It didn't disappoint.

Eight of the eleven large halls were crammed full of new car goodness and enough humidity to last a lifetime. This, combined with a whole host of outdoor activities meant that just one day wasn't anywhere near enough to see everything on offer, especially if you attend on a public day and have to queue to even clap your eyes on some of the new Italians let alone clasp your mitts around the wheel.

Starting on the biggest locals (not something to try in the city alehouses), BMW had their own mighty hall full of lovingly flame surfaced models, a range that is starting to feature so many family traits it is almost inbred. Overhead, a test track ran around to give the impression that you might even have an opportunity for a pootle in one of the new cars such as the X1. Not likely. Which is fine because on closer inspection the small SUV really wasn't very exciting.
The X3 is a small X5 therefore the X1 is meant to be a small X3, right? Correct; around five inches shorter apparently. Except lets be honest, five inches just isn't enough to make a useful difference. On first impressions the X looks like a 1 Series with the wrong springs fitted, unfortunately though on all subsequent impressions it looked just the same. Helping the new model to attract attention (like many display cars on offer), a demonstrator was aptly painted in the colour of the moment (bye bye white, see you in another 20 years); UPS driver poo brown (metallic). Tasteful as it doesn't sound, I'm not ashamed to say I rather liked it.

"I'm sorry sir, I couldn't possibly explain to you what the point is."Elsewhere in the Bavarian hall, a new and proudly beige 5 Series GT stood on centre stage, generating copious amounts of interest from amusingly stereotypical looking German businessmen-types.
If you want a decent sized saloon but you really, really want to be able to lift up the rear window as well as the bootlid then hey, this has your name written all over it.
Talking of that hatchback, there is more to it that initially meets the eye. Whereas an ordinary hatch would just lift up in one regular hinged way, the 5GT is different. The rearmost section has the option to drop down instead (pickup truck style), leaving the glass and the rest of the behemoth lid still in place.
A fantastic feature, perfect for those occasions when you really just can't be arsed to open the whole hatch one inch (it takes over from here and subsequently closes at the touch of a button).
Efficient Dynamics? Yeah right, looking at this Russian Doll of a hatch (and indeed the whopping gas struts needed to lift the thing) there must be a good trolley load of wasted kilograms doing nothing in there except rattling around trying to help the usual '50:50 weight distribution' selling point.
Perhaps we could also have a double driver's door that opens enough to throw your coat in one way, but then also opens fully for human entry?

Nearby, doing a good job of combining small amounts of disappointment with a fair chunk of pleasure was the Special Edition, erm, 'M3 Edition'. Initial photographs helped this £53k wonder look like a slightly meaner, lower, and generally better version of BM's wonderful V8 coupe. In the flesh though it didn't have quite the extra impact I had hoped for, instead merely looking like a normal M3 which had been modified with black paint and given a irrational price hike to show for it. Don't get me wrong, the tweaked M is still very attractive, but definitely now has slightly chav undertones. Then again, so has Cheryl, but it wouldn't put you off her would it?

Entering Hall 5 revealed the new Jaguar XJ on elegant display with a barging New Jag - she's not electriccrowd large enough to rival some of the bedroom wall pin-up cars. What a fantastic looking design it is too, finally bringing a clean and modern new shape to the traditional silhouette of times gone by (and by.. and by..). Strange though that the display was angled so as to make it nigh on impossible to see the much hyped tail. Not as strange however as the paint, featuring an impossible amount of spangly glitter to its metallic content.
Undoubtedly my favourite aspect of the launch was what seemed like an overwhelming urge to play on the Britishness of the new car. Not just any Britishness, but Jaguar obviously felt this car was a true and gritty Northerner and continued to play the same Oasis track over and over on loop with the preview video in the background. Perhaps Mancunians and wealthy Weller-esque haircut folk are a new target market? I mean Bentley did ok out of US rappers, the indie market definitely has potential.

Meanwhile, over in Hall 8, Subaru were panicking. Some manufacturers didn't get the term 'Going Green'After calmly erecting their smart display stand and carefully plopping their shiny current and new models all around the show floor someone spotted a glaring error.
Not only were all the cars so dull they were trounced by Hyundai's i'drathernot range, but all of them were varying shades of silver, grey and black. "Oh no!" they all exclaimed, "however are we going to get anyone to come and look at the new Legacy when there is a window nearby which looks out on to the coach parking area?"
Not to worry, the one man trying his very best to keep the company exciting was on hand at the last minute. No, not Iain Litchfield, but the American sports shoe meister and all round driving wonder Kenneth Block. Could he save Subaru from lawsuits as people injured themselves walking into bits of it, unable to identify the display from the surrounding grey concrete of the exhibition hall?
Fingers crossed, off he went to give one of the Imprezas a suitable makeover.

Undeterred by having just 17 minutes to save the stand from heading up Scheiße creek, Kenneth found the nearest German workshop and after much negotiation the 'stylists' agreed to rush the work through in exchange for Kens ridiculously flat baseball cap peak, a tool so straight it made for a much needed replacement sanding block.
Just minutes later the STI was back sporting a new bright green exterior and fake carbon fibre sheet stretched across all the plastic spoilerery. 

Viewed from Mars it really did look good, enough for Kenneth to let out a little American style whoop. Neat.
Feeling like a true champion once again, his heart dropped when he realised they had left all of the doors unlocked and that the newly enticed show-going punters were opening the doors and actually getting inside the (again slightly green) cabin.
"Gawd daaamn." Would they notice an aesthetic job so hashed that the green colouring stopped before it got to the inside of the (quite obviously still black) door frames?
Obviously they would. People have eyes and this is an International Motor Show, not a cruise in a dimly lit car park.

Talking of baseball caps, a haggle of new MINIs were on display surrounded by balloons and assorted other tripe to celebrate the 50th birthday of another different (although similarly named) car.
There were two new Coupe models, one with a soft roof and one whose styling is apparently derived from seeing a baseball cap worn backwards.
The 'Roadster Concept' was actually rather nice looking, the two seat coupe profile suiting the soft roof more than the conventional car's Mothercare style offering. Such a shame then about its tin top brother, the 'Coupe Concept'. I say tin top, the roof is actually aluminium in a bid to lower the centre of gravity and help to create the best handling 'newmini' yet. Visually, it is quite a successful design viewed from the front. Any other angle unfortunately made me rifle through my bag for the Lufthansa sick bag I'd saved for the Panamera viewing.
There are only three reasons that allow certain people to wear baseball caps backwards; they are either a) in the 80s, b) overly American or c) in The Exorcist and therefore of confused orientation.

Nearby, Peugeot had a novel approach to their display cars. Apart from the fantastic looking RCZ Coupe being launched (a car that really deserves to succeed), everything else seemed to be emblazoned with the CO2 output in big letters on the doors. Fair enough, you are trying to lower emissions yada yada.. But why does the teensy 107 on display have 106 grams of CO2 written on the door whereas the larger 207 is tattooed with just 99 grams, under the magical tax-free 100g mark? Surely the lighter car should be at least as efficient?

Mid report quiz time; let's think of a company who know how to do a good Special Edition car. I know, Lotus, who churn an Elise based derivative out of the system to celebrate every time one of their employees chooses a new lunchtime sandwich filling. Laugh though people may, the idea is simple and works well: Add a few optional extras, paint it a nice and exclusive colour, then sell for about the same as the base car with the extras. Press releases go out, people talk, free advertising ensues, more cars sell. It is a bit of an automotive win-win situation which is not exactly commonplace these days.
Porsche however, with the new 911 Sport Classic, have taken one Plain Jane 911 Sport Classic997 Carrera 2S, added a smattering of costly extras, a new colour and interior, cleverly stripped some weight and added retro touches including the infamous duck bill spoiler and Fuchs style alloy wheels.
Unfortunately this has incurred a price tag of over £140k, around double that of the regular Carrera. Lets be honest Mr Wiedeking CEO, all the punters want is the cool wheels, subtle paint and that retro spoiler on a more entry level (and therefore reasonably affordable) car, if not at the least to make it more visually exciting in a hotly contested price bracket. Have you heard of this rather trick looking R8 thing yet hmm?

Alongside the Sport Classic was the rather extreme looking new GT3 RS. This 997.5 GT3 RS997.5 version has gone for a different approach to the last, instead of combining 911 subtlety with lairy paint and aerodynamic addenda, this version has just gone and copied the Megane R26.R all out, with bright red wheels and stickers adding possibly a touch too much cheese to the taste. Without said colour it would be very appealing indeed, a properly bonkers looking car you could just about use every day if you so wished.

BackMatt White. No relation to Marco Pierre. in the real world of affordability there was also a very suave  looking car on display at the Trabant stand. Yes you read that right, the Trabant stand. This electric concept was quite the crowd teaser with funky but alternative MINI-esque looks that would doubtless help it to sell well despite the name - providing of course it retains some of the original Trabant's Smartprice costs.
Other real world show stars came from GM with its new Astra, a car that seems to have finally got the quality and styling it needs to compare with its rivals, and a humorously proportioned Toyota IQ Sports, looking more like a supermini out of The Jetsons than something that was hotly tipped to make production in the near future.

Alfa's new Mito [deep breath] Quadrifoglio Verde was a simply gorgeous looking hot hatch. Providing they can sort out the steering to offer a genuine Cooper-rivalling drivers' car then it will no doubt prove very popular indeed amongst keen drivers who also like to frequent the sunbeds, even with the optional matt paint.

What sort of a note to end on then? Well I suppose no show is complete without the classic supercar offerings to wow the crowds and make small boys weep into their carrier bags full of leaflets.
Lamborghini had the Reventon Roadster, Ferrari the 458 Italia. Both were suitably stunning, we can overlook the fact from most angles the front air dams on the 458 look like a pair of black invalid toilet handles, it has (if this is actually a real thing) what seems like completely novel and unique proportions. The lines of the rear half hide the engine bay in what seems like a visual illusion enough to ponder if there really is a potent V8 in there at all. It is better looking than the F430, no doubt, however it is not quite the convincing return to form of old that was anticipated. In terms of sheer presence though, my my does it exude the stuff. It may not have a pretty face but that is not necessarily a prerequisite for a successful life.
Maybe they are handles for lifting the front over speedbumps?

I remember a day before the advent of e-commerce when you could walk into your nearest high street electrical store and peruse the vast selection of televisions, video cassette recorders and Hifis. I won’t mention the Betamaxes of the time, but all of the above had something in common that came...and went. They were all finished in a lovely shade of neutral black.

You see, being of the thrifty/tight/I’d rather spend that money on a car persuasion I still have not one, but two square black televisions and a black VCR at home. But why not, they performed a function then and perform exactly the same function now, without even needing to worry what these pixie aspect ratios are all about.

All of a sudden however, silver was the in thing. It was everywhere in its fake aluminium format, be it ‘brushed look’ or good old plain finish. Televisions, stereos, car dashboards, phones, even fridges were dragged into touch kicking and screaming. You wouldn’t choose something that was openly ‘Leatherette’ on the label but ‘brushed titanium look’ was just fine. Who bought into this? Or did we just not have a choice?
And don’t get me started on fake carbon fibre, my computer doesn’t have a large enough mothership to hold all the abuse I could put that way.

The truth is however that cars have followed fads and fashions for such a long time that no one really objects anymore. Design styles change over the years, straight lines become curves, curves become Bangles and Porsche, well they don’t do much, just look on whilst playing Jenga with their gold bullion. That is fair enough and I am not one to stop to evolution.

Recently however there is a definite trend for the styling and evolution of the intricacies of component parts. Peugeot is my favourite current example. Picture the headlights of say, a Peugeot 309. Next in your timeline plonk a nice 306 next to it. Then a 307 (you may have to use the internet to remind yourself at this point unless if you have more issues than me). Finally, a 308.
What is going on with the headlights? They just get bigger and bigger, they are now around the same length corner to corner as the bonnet is long. Look back at your 309 (or even a 205/206/207) comparison and then it seems all the more ridiculous.
Surely the next models’ lamps cannot get any bigger in the same style otherwise people will be filling the front with illegal plants, thriving on the joys of the mobile glasshouse.

Curiously though, it is not just an increase in size that is a symptom. A couple of years ago the now previous generation Fiesta received a facelift. This elegant transformation and update basically took the front and rear light units and popped them on a beach in the Costa del Sol for summer. There, the features of the individual lights grew upwards and outwards in a strange 3D effect making an otherwise smooth light cluster a strange amalgamation of blobs and freakish growths. A sort of headlamp cancer if you will.

You probably should get that checked out

When will it all stop? I do find that more and more people like to harp on about how all new cars look the same and (in the supermini and mid size hatch classes particularly) it is becoming true, even to those who can distinguish between them.

Safety is obviously a key contributor, with continual and stringent new regulations for pedestrian safety not helping with portly front ends. This seemingly has forced manufacturers to spend more time styling the intricacies of the new model design, lights being near the top of the list in the style awards.

First there were Lexus style (and we all know how that ended), then VW putting their logo within the bulb holders, BMW Halos and most recently a continual evolution of led sidelight strips for people who loved Knight Rider. And most probably watched it on a shiny black telly.

As favours go, it was a pretty big ask. But more on the side of the person asking than the recipient for a change. Being offered the chance to take a V8 sports car for a deliberate drive to nowhere was something that I would happily do, not exactly needing persuasion and certainly not a common occurrence.

To recap, a friend of mine suffered quite a nasty motorbike accident a few weeks ago when he was knocked off his KTM Supermoto. Three broken ribs, a punctured lung, severe concussion and a rather broken leg later he is doing well, however bed-bound and off work for two months.
But it wasn't a Choc Dip and a copy of Practical Classics that he wanted, it was to take his TVR Chimaera (500 no less) out for a drive to blow off the cobwebs, literally and internally.
Like many other temperamental handbuilt sports cars, driving them daily is often one of the best ways to keep on top in the reliability stakes, leaving for a Sun(ny)day is often worse than doing a run to Tescos in the rain.
After three weeks off, the big eight fired up first time and off I went, out of town and alone in a vehicle notorious for bad reliability, being fearsome to drive and attracting attention. Plus, with the catalytic converter taking pride of place on his garage floor, the straight through system was loud. Not TVR loud, Download Festival loud. Which is nice, except when you are trying not to look like a cock in front of hundreds of people at a rather pikey looking fair on the way out of the city.

Driving and experiencing cars is what life is all about, however friends' cars do not fall into the same category. Even with the words "she needs a good thrash really" echoing around my head you just know that if the more thrilling Big One from Blackpool spontaneously combusted at the end of the street you would still feel bad about it in twenty years time. Likewise, if you were stationary at a junction and a Hummer ploughed into you from behind, you would still be getting ribbed down the pub for crashing your mate's pride and joy in 2019.

But my, what a car. Having driven a few TVRs before I was past the initial intimidation stage, even in the wet, but never really had long enough to get the full experience. This opened my eyes just a little wider. It's quick, obviously, but not silly by modern sports car standards. However, the last time I remember being so shocked by a delivery of any sorts was when Parcelfarce brought me a completely empty box by mistake.
This is torque almost by definition. Into gear. Wallop. All over, next gear. Wallop. A bit like being hit in the face by a bowling ball instead of a bean bag. One is over a lot quicker but a hell of a hit in comparison. It is quite hard to get a perspective of how fast the rate of speed changes, all of a sudden it has peaked lower down than you would expect and it is time to clunk the unwieldy yet weighty aluminium ball into the next slot, a task made vastly more difficult by a transmission tunnel that (for me anyway) was completely in the way.
It is just a pity about the handling, no other fancy word from a Thesaurus could be more suitable than being a bit 'edgy.' A quick steering rack is all well and good but this was the first time I have concluded that it is just that bit toofast for the particular car. A sneeze would have almost been enough to fire me off into the nearest hedge. Which is rather inconvenient when there is an open roof and one third of the population are hayfever sufferers.

But it was all well that ended well, the Chim washed and returned home looking grateful for some lavished attention like most of her spoilt brat factory siblings. No hissy fits this time. What's more, there is even a perfectly appointed leather cubby hole for that pack of Piriton. If only all favours were this good.

So I was finally able to get my E30 project (see blog) to the MOT station last week. Now I am bad enough at the best of times trusting anyone with the keys to a car of mine, even less so when I have spent half of the last year swearing underneath the thing, with three knuckle scars and a pissed off girlfriend to show for it.

However, the original brief was to build a car that was purely for road and track driving pleasure - for as little money as humanly possible. Ok so it went over budget by about, erm, double, but still the opportunity to save £27 on a half price MOT voucher from Autotrader and Nationwide MOT centres was not to be sniffed at and would bring the spreadsheet final figure down a touch (geek alert).

So what do we think of Nationwide Autocentre? Well, good in some respects, one large headache on the other. I booked the test two days in advance at the site that was literally one minute up the road. Ideal I thought, although they were not the friendliest the last time I paid them a visit, it can't be that bad can it?
I normally find that the larger chain outfits such as these are popular with folk who either have a company car (and therefore really don't care as long as they can still get paid whilst drinking 80's themed Klix coffee) or just want piece of mind as they are known, well, nationwide.

First thing to frustrate me was the booked centre to ring three hours before my alloted time and say that they are having work done, can we change it to another day. Great. Must have been anthrax related I suspect, otherwise it is simply impossible to know the day in advance of your entire business being shut for the whole day. No "sorry" by the way.
After trying two other centres in the area, desperately waving my voucher (to myself, I was on the phone) and being impolitely told that they could only do today if I left it with them (even though I said I didn't mind waiting for the whole afternoon) I managed a booking at a Nationwide at least 20 minutes away. I did rather enjoy the stereotypical sucking of the teeth from one employee however.

It was about as far as I would like to drive to a booking really, otherwise I run the risk of having to explain all of the above to a traffic officer who would undoubtedly use the word 'yourself' instead of 'you' and try to tell me that "removing your carpets doesn't turn you into Jason Button you know son."

But I made it with no drama. So do I now trust the larger repair establishments? Yes, but I won't be going back in a hurry.
My first alert was pulling into to the MOT bay. I could have popped a Momo steering wheel and some Minilites in the blubber of a killer whale and one guy wouldn't have looked any more confused. "I don't think he'll even start the test mate, you have no back seat belts."
I have no back seats, you didn't think I was just guessing at the MOT rules did you?

But sure enough, once I had entertained with the party trick of a bonnet that comes off and explained that I fitted in the seat ok without kidney pain the tester himself was very thorough, explaining technicalities of the rules and what a properly anal tester (don't laugh on either count) could in theory fail upon.

So did it fail? Well of course. Headlamp alignment, a slight blow from a loose manifold downpipe nut and the fact that I have a sunstrip which has inappropriate infringement on the sweep of my wiper. Ooh err. I don't like it either, but there are no sunvisors so it is essential (and lighter).

The next day I set off for my pre booked afternoon retest, all 10 minutes of rectification carried out (1 minute if I didn't have to fabricate Blue Peter style headlamp alignment geometry) and driving Westbound like a good boy scout, saluting all the way to hide the sun.

I know the test is thorough and it makes me happy know that no corners are cut when it comes to UK road safety (except it being ok to be blind en route) but a typical trusted local station could/would have just tweaked the alignment there and then in a matter of seconds, I even offered to remove the offending vinyl in situ but no, a retest tomorrow was the only way.

So, in petrol that was four trips of over 20 minutes plus a fair amount of test idling twice. Oh yes, and a new tinted screen top. Nowhere near £27 that, no way.

 If you are feeling brave you can print off a voucher here to use before the end of the July.
Don't say I didn't warn you..
Do email andtell me all about it..