I remember some aspects from childhood, but haven’t been back to immerse myself in the full experience since paying for my own Cornetto. Even though new legislation prevents Punch from hitting Judy, times are tough, so what better year to give this British beach experience a try and see whether there is still that quintessential charm left on the UK coastline? Of course, there must be a way to include an automotive twist.

My vision of the glory years involves a lot of MGBs, Spitfires and Sprites pottering along the seafront, with red and white chequered picnic hampers affixed to a chrome boot rack and an AA badge proudly screwed onto the grille. Wind in the hair, five gallons of 4-Star in the tank, you know the scene. So, in a common moment of ridiculousness I decided to buy a car just for the week to add another dimension to an already rather 3D holiday.

The plan was given the go-ahead from the more sensible half, which was something akin to being handed my own golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s Factory. Except it has now been recently renamed Wonka’s Bargain Motors. A very rare opportunity to buy a car I’d always fancied, just for the fun of it. No worries about long-term parking, running costs, or whether or not that blister would be a hole come MOT time. This was the perfect holiday romance with no strings attached.

Positively overwhelmed with excitement, I roamed the internet for anything within budget that was capable of travelling a few hundred miles in relative comfort. Which, in my slightly dubious opinion is anything with a windscreen (or indeed without, as the kit car section informed me).

We were travelling to the Sussex coast, staying in a peaceful little village around 350 miles from home. Add in some pottering about places on most days and the added mileage estimate would be somewhere near 1000 miles by the time I could procure a new owner.
Would a classic convertible really be suitable? A quick scour of the classifieds shattered the dream, for the modest yet realistic budget there is not a lot on offer if in pursuit of the green MOT ticket of perfection. A few flaky MG Midgets and a surprising number of tatty Triumph Heralds are the only cars under the flashing £1k radar, and the reality dawns that 50 years old is a fair age for a person to travel the length of the country in an afternoon, let alone a mechanical device.
The answer surely lay in that luscious middle ground of older vehicles that are aptly named after that bloke that can’t really act very well in The Matrix (or perhaps a special edition Proton Satria): the Neo-Classic. Not modern enough to be bothered with too much safety equipment and lists of electronic gizmos, but still fresh-faced enough to be a viable proposition.

As our favourite internet based auction site doesn’t seem to have this designation listed yet as a category between Cars and Classics, I proceeded to sift through pages and pages of Rover 214s and other such void-fill to search out the hidden gems.

Whittling down the list started off relatively easy then turned to what could only be described as minor anguish, as if the choice I made would mean that I could never own the others. A couple of apparently rot-free Mk1 MR2s were seriously considered, and I have fancied one of these since they were almost new. As a kid I used to ‘drive’ around in one, at home, at school - wherever really - holding my arms out like an extra from The Zombie Chronicles, pretending to be holding the steering wheel. I also had a red Reliant Scimitar and a yellow VW Corrado in case you were wondering. I actually did go to have a look at a local Honda CRX Del Sol, mainly to marvel at the amazing 17-year-old electric roof mechanism (take that 206CC), but alas it was not meant to be, this example being better described as the CRX Del Sold.

Finally, I’m afraid it was a “no from me” to the glaringly obvious MGF selection. Not a bad car for the money and developed on a frayed and mud-stained shoestring it was great achievement. However, there is one huge problem with a one thousand pound MGF. That is the existence of the one thousand pound MX-5.
But you had probably guessed that already hadn’t you (although yes, it is technically a Eunos Roadster). Yes, some people buy a grand’s-worth of designer luggage to show off on holiday. I had a twenty-year-old pink convertible.

The Off

Friday rolled around and off we set on a day so warm and sunny I began to fear that my lovely glossy red paintwork would be white again by the time we arrived, having used a family pack of elbow grease the day before making the body look more respectable and checking the mechanicals underneath.
The Mazda’s roof design is undoubtedly the work of genius, so simple it makes you wonder why there are any other ways to perform such a task, which meant it was down from the word go. Performance wise, there are two viewpoints. It is not a quick car, but that becomes completely irrelevant when you have a subtle exhaust bark as standard, 30mpg and such sublime steering and handling. My Eureka moment was when I realised why, for the first few hours of pottering and squirting around town, it seemed like there were far more horses hiding under that bonnet. In fact, I would go as far as to call it nippy. Yes, just like your Gran described her 0.7 Litre Matiz: it is nippy. This is when, after years of bemusement, I realised that the technical definition of the word is what we car-bods would normally call the throttle response. It feels quick, but only because it gives you its all and lunges forward with just the slightest poke from the top of the accelerator travel. The fact there is little more to come later is incidental.

The gearchange is one of my favourite features of the little Eunos. In a bizarre sort of way it is like an MX-5 itself, reincarnated in, erm, linkage form. Why? Well, because the shift action isn’t the fastest when you are enjoying real progress, however the feeling of clicking from gate to gate with perfect throw is just so damn satisfying you simply don’t care. It is not about the speed, it just about the satisfaction and the way it makes you feel.
Along similar lines, I really hope that whoever decided to place a pair of speakers in each headrest enjoyed at least an oak framed picture for employee of the month at Mazda HQ.

The only one disappointment I had with the week’s experience was a lack of camaraderie amongst the bunch of 5’ers that we passed after deciding to put a theory to the test. Waving at pretty much every one we saw, from Mk1s to Mk3s, it was strange to not even get one nod in return. I even revelled in pressing the button on the centre console to pop up the headlight units (it doesn’t actually illuminate them) to see if this was some sort of MX secret handshake, but to no avail.

One day our activities saw us heading up and along the top edge of Beachy Head; a cliff face that appears to have become stuck in some sort of Health and Safety Bermuda Triangle. Here you can casually park up next to the ice cream van, and about 10 metres away plunge many times more metres to your death if you happened to get distracted by a wayward Flake.
This access road however leads along the cliff top, and once well past the viewing/jumping hotspot there are a few quiet sections of road where perfect corners and brand new blacktop are seamlessly strung together one after the other. I will always remember these minutes as the Eunos’ finest moments. The greatest drivers’ road cars must be able to reward with their entertainment at safe real-world speeds, and should this have been in a textbook on such a matter, these moments would be entitled ‘Figure 1.1.’

You know that situation where you become engaged deep in conversation with somebody you haven’t seen for a while but are in a hurry, desperately needing to leave? You stand up but conversation never stops. You get closer to the door and stop, still talking. Stand in the doorway, stand outside, even sit in your car with the engine running and your seat belt on, but still chatting to said friend through the window. It is drawn out, polite, and definitely not a sudden departure.
That is what the rear end says to you in an MX-5. The tyres “really definitely should be off now mate” and gradually shy away from grip that little bit more and more. They never just grab their proverbial coats and piss off like your rude mid-engined mates.

There was even a moment when I took that Beachy Head road grinning a bit too far and accidentally let out a real shriek of delight (or a SOD as I would probably describe it on a car forum). I received a slightly bemused look from the passenger seat, but that really is the way it can make you feel, especially with the roof down and knowing that just a three figure deposit had brought such pleasure.

Selling

So, after a fantastic week with not one car based issue to report (other than having to leave the folding chairs behind due to a lack of space) we returned home with a new love for both British and Japanese amusements.

With amazing swiftness, the likes of which I have never seen before from the Swansea Mafioso, the V5 popped onto the doormat just four days after our flip-flops. It was probably a blessing in disguise; I could sell before starting to think about a birthday present for the Eunos (a small roll bar, in case you were wondering).
This, however, was always going to be a slight drawback to the whole procedure. A glance through my crisp new logbook indicated that I had been the proud owner for barely more than two weeks before the date of the sale advert. Somehow the previously written description of “I bought the car purely to enjoy over the summer” seemed a little exaggerated.

Fear not, should the buyer notice the date I can quickly answer with a witty English quip of “Well, two weeks is about all the sunshine we get in Britain isn’t it!” Then laugh it off and point out how great the Momo steering wheel feels in your hands.
It is one of those uncomfortable situations, as I am not doing anything wrong in buying a car for a couple of weeks of enjoyment, it is just that in a generation where your nature and integrity are best measured as a feedback percentage on eBay, good old fashioned honesty is possibly not the best policy.
It turned out that the buyer was quite into his Japanese cars, and the little Eunos was to be a runaround for ‘The Wife.’ Quite clearly too manly to admit to wanting to drive it anywhere but back home, the chap talked at me over his tea, not paying anywhere near as much interest to what I had to say in return. This wasn’t helped in part by my reaction to his current steed, a modified R32 Skyline GTS. “I’m a drifter you see” he blurted. My reaction of “Perhaps you should get a roof over your head before buying another car?” was just met with bewilderment, a long pause, and then asking for directions to the motorway.

So was it a success? I would say a resounding yes in every respect. Maybe I was lucky, but as long as you go in with your eyes even more open than normal it is a gamble worth taking. Also, pick wisely from a seller who hasn’t created a particularly good advert and with an evenings’ spit and polish you may be able to pay for your fish and even a couple of chips.
But what about the British Summer Holiday experience? Well it was cheap, warm, relaxing and a bit different. I even exchanged £2 for a large pot of 2p coins and found out that it was actually more enjoyable than simply throwing them one at a time into a bin.

I've written conventional reports on a few cars in which I spent a decent amount of time, but what the day did allow was a chance to sample vehicles that wouldn't necessarily have normally been on my radar. First up, as very much the case in point: Nissan's Leaf. So much has been said about the Leaf that I don't want to start repeating road test data and statistics, however I am one of those folks who are most definitely not in the target market, so would like to give my experiences from a point of view that is usually totally forbidden - a personal one.

If there was a Venn diagram of the overlap of expected buyers, I'd be the square in the corner containing a page number. Basically, as someone whose playlist shuffles from Smooth Hits of the Straight Sixes to The Greatest Hits of V8-ies (sorry, that's bad), I still need some serious convincing to see such a non-IC-engined car as a non-depressing, elegant mobility solution.
My results, strangely, are good and bad. When it comes to the Plain Jane function of transport, the Leaf makes an awful lot of sense, being quiet, refined and no worse around the twisties than most common-or-garden diesel hatchbacks. The thing is, what about the rest of the 'impact' that was readily available for the taking to the makers of the first mass-produced electric car? The looks, the in-your-face tech, the old hat expression of 'wow factor.' I can't help but think that more adventurous or at least interesting styling both inside and out could genuinely turn the doubters. If I am losing the noise of combustion, I at least want to be fluttering around in something straight out of The Jetsons.

Next up the new Jaguar XJ, in diesel format. Regardless of whether or not you are still unsure about the new design language, the interior is a wonderfully comfortable and unquestionably stylish place to reside, even if I did start to wonder whether JLR had created some sort of new-age Bakelite in the centre console. The characteristic of the car that will remain with me however is the way it drives. The ride may not have been perfectly cosseting, but I'll forgive it (and then some) for the unbelievable amount of fun it was to hustle around Millbrook's Hill Route. Never before have I experienced a saloon that belies its size to such an impressive extent, and that is coming from a luxobarge aficionado. Despite having already pottered around in machinery with a far more sporting pretence than this Jag minutes beforehand, the XJ was one of the most satisfying drives at conventional road speeds through the bends. Just in case proof was needed, it was the one car in which a marshal gestured that maybe I was having a little bit too much fun...

Moving on, as a great believer in the ability to wring a car's neck for pleasure without instantly hitting license-losing speeds, I have been very eager to try Fiat's diminutive 500 TwinAir, just to see what the proverbial and literal buzz was all about. The two-cylinder powerplant certainly speaks its mind, with a soundtrack that is straight from the local speedway, and the tiny engine twinned (sorry) with the nimble 500 certainly is addictive. The only trouble is, if the real-world economy is to be believed then I'm not sure if it justifies the downsizing, as the (pleasant) coarseness just leaves a slight impression of fragility if it were to be used (nee, thrashed) day-in day-out, but only time will tell. For novelty value alone though, it is a satisfying solution for the daily grind and a happily unique approach to the pressures of modern emissions.

Skoda were out in force, and luckily they had brought along a Fabia VRS in bright white as opposed to the shade of eye-popping green that everyone seems to love except me. However that's mainly due to the colour reminding me of a Ford Ka I once purchased which turned out to be completely rotten, but that's another story. This VRS deserves its hot hatch title, with an addictive power delivery and the right balance of everyday comfort versus composed handling, with a DSG box that happily accents its dual character. It is the sort of car that somehow manages to tick every box, perhaps one of the best ways of spending £16,000 on new metal if you have to be slightly sensible.
A big thumbs up, but another hot hatch of note was the RenaultSport Megane 250 Cup, a car with which I was a little besotted, yet not for obvious reasons. Its much admired handling characteristics were even better than expected, matched with a gutsy turbocharged engine to create a sublime B-road weapon. The most impressive aspect however is the quality of the package; a RenaultSport Cup car that I would be more than happy to use every day, with a nicely judged ride quality, a pleasingly tactile interior and (shock horror) the most perfectly-spaced pedal box I have ever experienced in a French car. I'd probably be a little gutted at the state of my bright yellow seatbelts after about 24 hours, but if that is the only downside still lodged in my memory then that can only be A Good Thing.

There were three vehicles that I was keen to try above all else, and so deliberately avoided the many supercar waiting lists and leather-bound Bentley wafting appointments to stand in the rain and hover in the right places at the right times. The first of these was the Audi RS5. Otherwise known as Epic Burble. The second was Honda's Civic Type R Mugen, an astoundingly capable and focused front wheel drive hot hatch. Finally, the BMW 1 Series M. The links will be updated as and when, but they justified a little more page space.

So an informative, interesting, and above all else enjoyable day courtesy of SMMT and the respective manufacturers, also offering up some rather unique experiences. Oh yes, I almost forgot, Jaguar had brought along two E-Types from their heritage fleet. Cake - Icing - Cherry.

It's not to say that the M3 and M5 are becoming less desirable, but if you wander along to a BMW fan convention, I would confidently put money on the fact that the one option most keen drivers would like to see is a smaller, lighter variant in this overweight world. I'm not going to make E30 M3 comparisons here as times have changed, but if there is even a hint of that original formula present then BMW must be along the right lines.
Behind the 1M's 334bhp straight-six engine sits a six-speed, manual gearbox. No paddles, no electronics and no hydraulics, just the plain old drivers' favourite gate. The internet tells me that the correct saying to describe this is 'WIN.' Of course, the box channels the drive to a Variable M locking differential at the rear, as (let's be honest), travelling sideways is almost an M car's signature. Much like its bigger bruiser brothers, the 1 Series M features an 'M Dynamic Mode' button, a feature which sharpens the characteristics of the chassis and throttle so that not only does it befit the car with an acutely focused nature, but also allows for a softer option in everyday use; a task that is well within the reach of the Coupe.

The sprint to 62mph takes just 4.9 seconds due to a turbocharged straight-six producing a meaty 369lb-ft. This forced nature has been of prime concern to many, as natural aspiration has for so long been in the M Division's morning pep talk until just recently. Be assured though, this is no tarted up 135i, and the forced air is more through a need to adhere to ever-tightening compliances. They might have changed the power delivery, but this looks to be every inch the perfect M car for 2011, I cannot wait.

Yesterday, the excitement was further cemented in two ways. Firstly the news broke that BMW were 'refusing to rule out a CSL version of the 1M,' and then on the way back from a first drive of my own E30 in six months, there was a white 1M sat behind me in stationary traffic. After bouncing up and down in the seat like a baby, I gestured the confused driver to pass so that I could ogle the finned diff cooler underneath. It looked good, if a teensy bit over-wheeled and 'Tonka' from some angles.

Of course, you really just want to see it going sideways though don't you?

More info on the car can be found here.

Even racetrack tyre walls are minimalist these days

Last week, I made my way down to Porsche’s Experience Centre at Silverstone to see how this French manufacturer has managed to bend such parameters. The allure of the technology would have been enough, however since there was the option to test the new product in a smattering of interesting metal; well, I wasn’t going to say no to that either. 
As we well know, motorsport is a punishing proving ground, and nowhere is the development more crucial and paramount than in endurance racing. Michelin have applied understanding from 13 consecutive victories at Le Mans to their new product for super sports cars and ultra high performance tuning. On the face of it, any type of car with a tax disc may appear to be a whole different arena, however when you are looking for maximum all-round performance with the longest life possible, the two are more closely linked than you might think.

Their new Pilot Super Sport has been developed from the previous Pilot Sport 2 to an extent where wet and dry road-holding have been increased (1.5 seconds over a 2700-metre test lap), wet and dry braking distances have been seriously reduced, yet tests show an increase of 10% greater mileage capability on the road and a staggering 50% more laps being possible on the track.
Luckily, they remembered that humans are sceptical beasts (especially when it comes to parting with hard earned cash) and so conveniently lined up a selection of tests to highlight said results in front of our very eyes. During the tests at Porsche’s stunning facilities, there was the ability to compare the PSS tyre back-to-back with its competitors, and being truly sportsmanlike this was by no means against re-moulded Chingchangs, but top premium brand products that even Michelin themselves denote to be good performers.

As the starting point, a cornering test on a simulated wet roundabout demonstrated eye-opening results, in both the ability of the PSS tyre to corner at an increased speed over its contemporaries, yet more-so in the ability to notch down the diameter of the circle at a constant speed. Gentle inputs allowed the test car (an Audi TT) to just keep on nibbling its way inboard, with a gentle lift allowing even more in the way of line tightening and extreme tucking in. I’ll leave you to make you own Simon Cowell-based pun there. The same playful inputs in the comparison car gave rise to a noticeably unsettled combination of under and oversteer as well as slithering off the desired line.

WeTT

As reassuring as it is to know about the ultimate grip levels on offer during cornering, it is important to remember that steering feel and progressive confidence are perhaps more important attributes in a performance tyre for many road-going buyers. Porsche’s handling circuit is basically the perfect B-road, except crossed with the driving nirvana that is a guaranteed lack of any oncoming traffic. With this environment a given, we carried out dry laps where a pair of 997s (C2S) were driven as one might on a spirited cross-country blast. At this six-tenths action, the first 997 reacted with utter precision and remained thoroughly composed, even when given deliberate excess throttle through the tighter corners and off-camber undulations.

Jumping straight from this Michelin-shod car to another equipped with a competitor’s tyre gave the opportunity to carry on using the exact same pace and lines, such that would not trouble the 911’s thoroughly developed chassis. Shod with what is still mighty fine rubber, identical cornering speeds clearly didn’t send us flying into a grassy Silverstone knoll, but the subtle differences were quite evident. The odd chirrup and squirm here, a subtle developing hint of understeer there, there was no problematic lack of grip or traction, but it was apparent to see where the ‘lesser’ tyre might start to slow or upset the pace if it was a battle against the clock. This second vehicle was still plentifully capable, yet it simply didn’t feel as entirely untroubled and instill as much confidence as the earlier car, both in terms of ability and (subjective) steering feel.

Some Pilots even have flying licensesAs far as the technology itself is concerned, the PSS integrates three main areas of development (well, three that they are prepared to reveal to all and sundry). The first is the use of dual compound technology across the width of the tyre. Here, the majority of the tread’s width uses a different, wet-biased compound to the outer edge; a band of carbon black-reinforced elastomeric rubber that is directly related to the Le Mans winning mix. The spread of compounds and co-efficients of friction allow the different areas to stick to their respective tasks in hand, as well as preventing straight line driving from undue wear of the sticky cornering rubber.

You might have thought that the yellow fibres under the surface were a tread depth indicator for some van drivers, but they actually have a primary role in forming and holding the carcass together. Michelin however sensed there was room for a much more active role in their job description, and the new ‘Twaronâ’ belt features a unique weave that exerts variable tension on the surrounding rubber. This grips the centre of the tread more tightly than the shoulders, and the result is a more even distribution of forces and uniform flat contact patch as the wheel speed increases; preventing the natural ballooning towards a motorcycle tyre-esque cross section.
While we’re on the subject of the contact patch, this has been cleverly optimised so that during cornering the shape of the patch changes, yet the actual surface area of rubber in contact with the tarmac stays just the same. This allows for a better distribution of forces and temperatures, and ultimately more uniform, optimum grip and traction.

Finally, as much as I could labour on about the technology and my subjective experiences, what you really need is parting shot; something to take home in a proverbial internet party bag with a slice of food-for-thought cake. Even with the other abilities, feel and lifespan, a wet (or in our case, damp) braking test gave such a conclusion.
We used a pair of identical BMW (E92) 325i M-Sports equipped with dataloggers to investigate wet braking in a test that required little input from us drivers (and hence lacked erroneous results). The automatic cars were hoofed up to a cruise-controlled speed of just under 50mph, then we simply hit the (ABS) pedal to the left with equally maximum force and held on. After three days of subjecting the cars to the same tests from countless eager pilots in the driving seat (people, not tyres obviously), there was a consistent average difference between the two cars’ results. At the time of my visit, the difference in this braking distance was hovering around two metres. 
That’s pretty much the same length as a Mk1 Smart Fortwo – have a think about that the next time you’re in a 50mph motorway limit and it seems like you could step out and walk alongside.

There has been a gradual shift of car manufacturers' tendencies from using hydraulic to electric assistance to help those not built like the Governor of California [runs off to laugh AGAIN] to turn the steering wheel. The usual quoted benefit is something like a 3% increase in economy by preventing the engine having to drive a hydraulic pump, not to mention a theoretical reduction in engine bay clutter by removing an entire fluid-based system. The downsides are next to nothing for most buyers, however the complaint thrown at this innovation from us typical tactility troublemakers is that it robs the system of crucial steering feel.

Now before you scamper off into the distance, this is not a rant about electric steering feedback, as the technology is continually improving and often claims to be even better that hydraulics, helped in part by being able to switch off completely at speed. No, this is a rant about why 'normal folk' claim that steering feel is unimportant and irrelevant in a modern car - ie. an object whose primary function is reliable, safe transport and not as a plaything. 

The problem can be summarised in one real-world scenario around ten minutes from where I live. It is a particular 90-degree corner where two dual carriageways meet, with the left lane being a direct filter from one road to the other. The outer lane feeds traffic direct from the roundabout itself. The council, in their infinite wisdom, have created this road junction using two different road surfaces. The first is that grippy white/yellow stuff, and the second is normal black tarmac.

Where would be the worst place for one surface to change into the other? That's correct, right smack bang (and very much wallop) on this bend, not all that far after the apex. It has been a subject of much interest to me over the years, as this travesty is encountered on the route back from some of the best driving roads in the UK. As such, I have had the pleasure of experiencing the corner of doom in an assortment of vehicles.

In the dry whilst piloting a Mk1 VW Scirocco on questionably hard old tyres, a spirited tip into the bend led to the coupe wagging its handsome rump from the change onwards, a sudden yet amusing breakaway as the coefficient of friction drops away faster than James Cordon's popularity.
Similarly in an old BMW, you could still feel the difference betweeen the two surfaces through the steering wheel in the dry. It was not a huge amount, but definitely enough to make a mental note about what was going on underneath those front wheels as your line around the corner gradually washed out.
For the benchmark test, when driven in Lotus's finest glued aluminium conglomerate the telltale surface feedback is so intense that you'd swear Matt Bellamy was cowering under the bonnet.

So, what happens around this dry bend in many a modern car or 4x4, with it's dulled-down responses and untroubled steering wheel? Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Regardless of how the steering is assisted, you'd be hard pushed to tell anything was going on at all.

I'm telling you all this because when it is raining, this junction becomes really rather dangerous. If you had recently started commuting the route in summer and drove at a similar speed every day, all it would take would be light summer rain and you'd round the corner to find that you had automatically filtered into the outside lane, regardless of who else was occupying it. If it wasn't for the change of colour (that no doubt goes completely unnoticed to many), it would seem that your car had suddenly decided it was bored of all this and maybe the pesky fuse had blown for the 'road sticking.'

That, my dear chums, is why people don't invite me to dinner parties in case someone says that their Toureg is safer than a 'drivers' car' as it 'has more grip.' Because I'll spit out my lamb chop.

Yes, UK town and city stereotyping is a wonderful thing, and nothing to be ashamed of at all. I have along running joke with a friend about Leeds, the number one UK city in the running for the 'I'm a far more attractive and rich Northerner than you' citizen award.
I make the journey past this Yorkshire hub of rained-on D&G jackets on a regular basis, and long was it a truthful observation that as soon as you approached the signs for York (whilst travelling South on the M1/A1), there was a gradual increase in the number of 3-Series BMWs, mostly a mid range, occasional 'M' model in silver or black, and driven by someone whose lopsided haircut cost almost as much as their private plate.

The frequency of these cars increased, intermingled with a few X5s, A3s and Continental GTs - peaked - then declined until Wakefield, where everybody seems to be drive either a Mercedes E Class, Yarises (Yarii?) or those horrific new Transit vans with the white stripes and fake exhaust tips. I've nothing against the Leeds drivers and their decent choice of metal, but there are only so many variations on a theme, and they all probably drink champagne in overpriced bars with cornered-off Very Irritating People areas.

So why the ramblings? Well, as of the last few months I have noticed that these vehicles have changed. Still black and silver of course, still studying the injection moulding runners on my rear light clusters whilst on the (i-natch) phone, but the mighty 3-Series is in decline. A white C-Class Merc is popular of sorts, but the true stalwart of the young Leeds gentleman is now very much the Audi A5.
Leeds Skyline - Like the Nissan, except it only comes in grey.

It is almost as amusing as the X5 to Cayenne upgrade, as I've now spotted one of these Audi coupes that sported digits something along the lines of 'JAYB M3'. It is one step to allowing great drivers' cars to shake off their poser image, whilst also allowing a great posing coupe to willingly slurp it up. 

Stereotyping; it's nothing more than socially-acceptable racism.

So it is classic Clarky crimbo fodder, but with a huge chunk more depth and the addition of some older metal and down-to-earth action. I'd even go as far as to say it is the best one yet...

Normally retailing at under £20, it can be purchased from play.com here, however we have two copies of the DVD to give away!

Simply email mail@thecardisco.com with the subject line 'Give me explosions!' before midnight on Friday 10th December to be entered into the prize draw. The winners will be selected at random and notified on Saturday 11th.

For example, if there were only two people left, how would you manage to obtain exciting and close-fought motorsport battles? The solution brought up was radio-controlled car racing, with real cars, whilst housed in said cars, but sitting in your competitor's car. Sound confusing? Indeed, but it genuinely made me do one of them LOLs.

Elsewhere, pyromaniacs will still get their fix of explosions, and there is a segment that is basically Robot Wars (remember that?) but again using radio-controlled real cars (albeit from a distance this time). 

So there you have it, quite a novel take on the Christmas DVD from the Top Gear boys, my only criticism was that the first challenge dragged on a bit, even if it was rectified by some genuinely painful looking accidents.

You can find the DVD in the shops for £19.99, however Play.com currently have a special offer here.

If you prefer to do your Christmas shopping at Poundland though and want to save even more money, we have two copies of the DVD to give away for free to lucky TCD readers!

To win, simply email mail@thecardisco.com before midnight on Tuesday 30th November with the following as the subject line:

'Apocalyptic Competition'

The winners will be picked at random from a carbon fibre plenum full of all the entries.

See kids.. that's why blacked-out windows are dangerous.

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 still 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...

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.