2014 Jaguar F-Type V8 S Convertible - Short Review And Photos

I'm running a Jaguar F-Type V8 S for a week.  Here are my thoughts after a few days

The Jaguar F-Type V8 S is devilishly naughty.  The first few times you drive it you fire up the supercharged V8 lump, press the throttle and the rear wheels light up and spin, sending the rear a few degrees off line.  Then the traction control kicks in and new underpants are required.

Jaguar could have set the traction control to kick in much earlier but they chose not to do so.  The car's character is defined by this wickedness.

There's a button on the glorious looking dash that looks like a pair of spectacles but is in fact meant to be a twin exhaust.  Press it and you get even more noise than it already makes, with added snarl and crackliness.

Press the throttle all the way down to the floor at 50 or so mph and it doesn't just kick down a gear, it does a double kick down - or more if that's required to get the revs right near the limiter.

The Jaguar F-Type V8 is a beautiful machine with an enormous amount of power and the character of a Tasmanian Devil with ADHD and tourettes.

I've driven many powerful cars but none have quite the same facility to allow the driver to scare him (or her) self stupid with it's boundless enthusiasm for speed and noise.

The F-Type fitted with the V6 engine is a delicately balanced sports car with fantastic handling that nearly matches the Porsche 911 Carrera and Lotus Evora in terms of poise and controllability.  But with the V8 under the bonnet it becomes something more.  

It still retains the handling, although the V6 is slightly better balanced, but with an extra 115bhp and 130 lb ft of torque the V8 is much more of a monster.

Once traction is found the V8 S grips very well, courtesy of its aluminium chassis and Jaguar's finessed suspension, but it just pings towards the horizon at such a rate of knots that you can hardly believe, and which, if you carried on for more than a few seconds, would land you in jail.

With my son in the passenger seat and in charge of the timing app (embedded in the info screen) we did 0-60mph in 4.5 seconds.  That was on a wet road and without using the F-Type's launch control.  The official figure is 4.2 seconds.

It took me 200 miles and two days on the road to fully master the F-Type V8, to be able to apply just enough power to get round corners (or even set off in a straight line) without backing off as soon as the tyres lost traction.  

Once you do get the hang of it the car becomes the fully fledged sports car that the V6 S is from the off.  Once you learn quite how much throttle to use in a given situation it becomes the car you want to rob a bank in order to get the £80k you need to buy one.

When it comes to cars my son is very hard to impress.  If it isn't a Lotus he's not interested.  But he loves the F-Type.  He loves the shape, the colour, the noise and the fact its a convertible.  Instead of dropping him at the school bus stop he has made me drive to school and parade past his peers before dropping him off in front of as many people as possible.  Small boys do genuinely drop their jaws, point and chatter amongst themselves about this car.

And to be honest I love dropping him at school in the car too. 

The F-Type's boot is tiny, the cockpit is well appointed but quite small.  The seating position is perfect and the seats comfortable and supportive.  I like Jaguar's info screen and it's better in this car than in some other models.  It has digital radio and bluetooth connection and the stereo is nice and loud.

You can cruise at 70mph on the motorway with the roof down and the wind will tickle the top of your head but not try and remove your hat.  The roof opens and closes at up to 30mph and is fully automatic.

It has a toggle for either Rain/Snow/Ice or i-Dynamic modes.  Both are useful.  Most mileage I've done has been in the Rain/Snow/Ice setting but some has been in i-Dynamic, which tightens up the steering and suspension and improves throttle response.

Acceleration is brutal and the brakes have good feel and stopping power.

The gearbox is an 8-speed automatic.  It has a manual mode and flappy paddles, and it has a sports mode.  Use sports mode and the throttle response is like that on a motorcycle - you have to be smooth.

It's averaged 21mpg so far but will do 32mpg on a motorway cruise.

I'll publish a full review soon.

Stats:

Price - £79,985
Engine - 5 litre, V8, supercharged, petrol
Transmission - 8 speed ZF automatic
0-60mph - 4.2 seconds
Top Speed - 186mph
Power - 495bhp
Torque - 460 lb ft
Economy - 25.5mpg
CO2 - 259 g/km
Kerb weight - 1,665 kg

Review by Matt Hubbard

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McLaren 650S - The Stats In Full

McLaren has released more information about its new supercar, the 650S

Following on from the initial 650S photos and information McLaren has divulged a whole load more of the car's stats.

Here they are in full.  And jump to the bottom for some more photos.

TECHNICAL SPECIFICATION– McLaren 650S COUPE

Drivetrain Layout	Longitudinal Mid-Engine, RWD	Track, F/R (mm)	1656 / 1583
Engine Configuration	V8 Twin Turbo / 3799cc	Length (mm)	4512
Engine PS / rpm	650 / 7250	Width (mm)	2093
Torque Nm / rpm	678 / 6000	Height (mm)	1199
Transmission	7 Speed SSG	Dry Weight (kg / lbs)	1330 / 2932
Body Structure	Carbon Fibre MonoCell with   Aluminium Front and Rear Frames	Active Aerodynamics	McLaren Airbrake
Wheelbase (mm)	2670	Suspension	ProActive Chassis Control
Brakes	Carbon Ceramic Discs with Forged Aluminium Hubs (F 394mm/R 380mm)	ProActive Chassis Control modes	Normal / Sport / Track
Tyres (F/R)	Pirelli P Zero Corsa 235/35 R19 / Pirelli P Zero Corsa 305/30 R20	Powertrain Modes	Winter / Normal / Sport / Track
Wheel Sizes (F/R)	19” x 8.5”J / 20” x 11” J

PERFORMANCE DATA

Efficiency	CO2	275 g/km
	Fuel consumption (combined)	24.2 mpg
	Power to weight (with lightweight options)	500 PS (493 bhp) /tonne
	CO2/power	0.42 g/km per PS
Speed	Maximum speed (650S Spider)	333 km/h (207 mph)
Acceleration	0-100 kph (62 mph)	3.0 s*
	0-200 kph (124 mph)	8.4 s*
	0-300 kph (186 mph)	25.4 s*
	0-400 m / ¼ mile	10.5 @ 224 km/h (139 mph)*
Braking	Braking	100-0 km/h     30.5 m (100 ft)
		200-0 km/h     123 m (404 ft)
		300-0 km/h     271 m (889 ft)

By Matt Hubbard

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Volvo Concept Estate - Images And Details

This is the Volvo Concept Estate, the final part in the current Volvo concept trilogy

Following on from the XC Coupe concept and Concept Coupe Volvo has revealed its latest, the Volvo Concept Estate.  And it looks damn good.

The front end and grille are similar to the previous concepts, as are the signature LED rear lights.  The Concept Estate takes inspiration from the 1800 ES shooting brake from the early 1970s so it's a three door with a hatch boot - although that high floor looks rather impractical.

As an aesthetic exercise the Concept Estate looks stunning.  The wheels are 21 inch and don't look huge so it's quite a large car.  There's no detail on the power or drive train but it would be a crying shame if a future Volvo resembling this concept wasn't at least four wheel drive, if not rear wheel drive.  With its muscular haunches and shooting brake lines front wheel drive would seem out of place.

The interior is exquisitely executed.  The overall design and colour scheme is meant to evoke a Scandinavian living room.  I've no idea what that looks like (must ask Gothenburg resident @BuddaPSL) but the colours and materials do look very cool, particularly the orange seat belts and wood.

The big deal for Volvo is the four layer info screen.  Having driven many and varied cars with many and varied screens this does seem a great solution to what is something of a problem shared by almost all current systems - that of important functionality embedded beneath layers of menus.

The Volvo system is simple.  Take one screen, make it large and stack the most important controls.  From the top these are navigation, media, phone and climate controls.  The function being used expands whilst the others shrink.  It might seem gimmicky but until you've tried a few manufacturer's cack-handed attempts at 21st century screens you'll realise it's a good idea.

Let's hope a new Volvo estate at least similar the Concept Estate will see the light of day in the next few years.  Even if it doesn't the design, both external and internal, and tech point to Volvo's breaking away even further from it's safe but boxy background.

If you want to see the Volvo Concept Estate in the flesh it'll be on display at the Geneva Motor Show.

By Matt Hubbard

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Five Cars You Probably Didn't Realise Are Still On Sale

Graham King takes a look at some cars that cling on to life, despite selling in penny numbers and/or being way past their sell-by-date

CITROEN C5

When it was launched in 2008 the new C5 was a huge leap forward over its ungainly, badly built predecessor. It was stylish, drove well enough and the build quality could just about give the Germans a run for their money. Every model came generously equipped and was extremely comfortable, either with the standard steel suspension or the hydropneumatic system fitted to top-spec versions and automatics. Unlike the idiosyncratic first-generation model, it was a genuine alternative to the Mondeo and Insignia. And probably just about the most soothing way of doing 50,000 miles a year.

It proved fairly popular for a few years, but in recent times sales have dropped off a cliff. The range was facelifted in 2011 but that didn't really help matters. I dare say most of the thousand or so that are sold every year go to Citroen loyalists and taxi firms (it is very spacious).

The C5 is still everything it ever was and still makes a lot of sense, even if it is getting on a bit. Unfortunately, you will probably walk straight past your local Citroen dealer and buy an Insignia instead.

FIAT BRAVO

In 2007 Fiat wanted to distance itself from its previous attempt at a mid-size hatchback, the decidedly stodgy Stilo, so revived an old name with the Bravo. Like the original Bravo from the mid-90's, the new car was very stylish, in fact by far the prettiest Focus rival available. It still is, come to think of it.

As you would expect from a Fiat, the rest of the Bravo was a bit of a mixed bag. The turbocharged petrol engines were very keen as were the diesels, even if they were rather harsh. But the handling wasn't as involving as the Focus's. Typically some of the interior plastics were a bit cheap and the build quality questionable. There wasn't much space either, but it was at least very good value. And very pretty. But now its been overtaken by the Kia Cee'd and Hyundai i30, which are much better and cost about the same.

The Bravo has never been a big seller in the UK and a 2011 facelift didn't change that. The range has been cut back to three models, and with sales in the low hundreds and Fiat's attention increasingly focused on the 500 family, the Bravo must be due for the chop soon.

HONDA ACCORD

While it was built in the UK, the Accord was everywhere. The fact the current generation hasn't sold in anything like the same quantities is probably less to do with the fact it is built in Japan and more to do with it being pitched at low-end Audi A4/BMW 3-Series territory, rather than the highish-spec Mondeo area it occupied before.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with the Accord per se. Indeed when SpeedMonkey tested one recently we found it perfectly acceptable; it drives well, the diesel engine is brilliant if held back by the thing's bulk, the interior's pleasant, the build quality is excellent, its good value, etc etc.

On paper, the Accord does everything a biggish family car should. But it doesn't have the image to compete with the Germans, the saloon isn't all that practical and the estate is outclassed by the Skoda Superb. Actually, thinking about it, I wonder how many people part-exed old Accords for new Skodas? I'm betting a fair few.

But I digress. The point is, the Accord is a good car, but it's hard to come up with a reason to actually buy one. Which is probably why there aren't that many about.

MITSUBISHI SHOGUN

There's no getting away from the fact the Shogun is pretty ancient now. The current Mk.4 version was launched in 2007, though it was, in effect, a reskin and revamp of the Mk.3, introduced all the way back in 2000.

Its always been a bit crude to drive, and the ginormous 3.2-litre, 4-cylinder diesel engine is old hat now. But it comes with loads of kit and space, it's conspicuously good value, it's the only full-size SUV that you can still get in short wheelbase form, and it's pretty much unstoppable off-road.

Mitsubishi still sell a few hundred a year, probably to rural types who appreciate its ruggedness, value, and 3.5 ton towing capacity. Style-conscious urbanites who used to buy them for their seven seats have long since switched to the Volvo XC90 and Land Rover Discovery.

SMART FORTWO

The ForTwo will be back in the news soon as the third-generation version and its Renault Twingo twin will be unveiled at the Geneva Motor Show in a few weeks. But you'd be forgiven for forgetting about the current one.

The Smart has always been billed as the ultimate city car, ultra frugal and so short you can park end-on to the pavement, although that never seemed to catch on. For a while it was even quite fashionable, but since it looked like a commercial ice maker I was never sure why. Then it was comprehensively out-fashioned by the Fiat 500 and people realised it wasn't very pleasant to drive, had a terrible gearbox and was generally fairly pointless.

It seems a couple of thousand ForTwos still find homes every year, most the tax-free hybrid. Presumably most live in London, not that I've seen one recently.

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2014 Morgan 3 Wheeler Review

Matt Hubbard reviews the 2014 Morgan 3 Wheeler.

In 1909 Harry (HFS) Morgan created a three wheeled car.  In 1910 he founded Morgan Motors.  In 1911 Morgan displayed three wheelers at the Olympia motor show.  In 1912 The Morgan Motor Company was created as a limited company in order to produce three wheeled cars.  Four wheel car production started in 1950.  Three wheeled car production stopped in the 1950s.

In 2011 Morgan displayed a new 3 Wheeler at the Geneva Motor Show and shortly afterwards it entered production.  Morgan builds 1,200 cars a year of which approximately 300 are 3 Wheelers.

In early 2014 the 3 Wheeler was revised.  My test car was the 2014 model.

It looks like nothing else on the market.  It is made like nothing else on the market.  It sounds and drives like nothing else on the market.

The chassis is constructed from steel tubing and ash wood.  Yes, wood.  The body is aluminium panels, formed by hand, over an ash frame.  Yes, more wood.

The engine is a 2 litre S & S V-twin motorcycle unit which produces 115bhp, of which 80bhp makes it through to the road.  The gearbox is a Mazda MX5 unit.  Final drive to the single rear wheel is via a belt.

The 2014 3 Wheeler gets improved cooling, steering response and stability, increased chassis stiffness, a wider range of graphics, a 30 month warranty and smoother power delivery and reduced vibration.

The 3 Wheeler is small.  It is essentially a long tub with the engine at the front and the passenger compartment behind, front wheels sticking out of the bodywork and the single driven wheel fared in at the very rear.

It has a boot in which the tonneau cover and a couple of squishy bags can be stowed.  Small leather pockets are sewn into the sides of the car.  The passenger footwell is very long. Unless it is occupied by someone very tall another bag, or helmet, can be stored in there.

The seats and steering wheel are fixed.  The driver gets adjustable pedals.  The seats are comfortable leather-trimmed and are figure hugging from the waist down (very tight if you are on the larger side) and supportive.  The steering wheel is quite high.

The feeling is that you sit low and peer down the bonnet.  There are separate, tiny windscreens ahead of the driver and passenger but it has no doors and no roof.

To get in the 3 Wheeler is like getting in a bespoke racing car. Step over the side, stand on the seat, adjust your..ahem...trouser area, slide yourself in and belt up.

The footwell is narrow and the pedals take up all of the room.  There's no clutch foot rest because there is simply no room for one.  The engine might be mounted at the front but the 5-speed Mazda gearbox is quite large for such a small car and steals a lot of space.

The dash controls are extremely simple.  Revs, speedo, lights, indicators, heated seats (if specified) and not a lot else.  It does have a 12 volt socket tucked away under the dash.

Insert the ignition key, flip up the Spitfire bomb release-alike cover on the Start button and hit the button itself.

Oh yes it's a V-twin motorcycle engine alright.  It sound like one and it vibrates like one.

If you hadn't smiled yet you start to do so at this point.  The twin exhausts (one down each side) and engine create an equally mellifluous racket.  Dab the throttle and the V-twin makes even more noise and produces even more vibrations.

The floor hinged clutch (beautifully engineered if you care to look down the footwell) is heavy.  Engage first gear via the delightfully smooth gearbox and pull away.

You know how I said before the 3 Wheeler drives like nothing else.  Multiply that by ten.  The first half mile feels plain weird.  Your elbow hangs over the side of the car (you could touch the ground if you wanted to but I'd advise against it), you look down the bonnet with the tiny windscreen half in and half out of your vision, you try to deal, mentally, with the cruiser motorcycle sound and power delivery and you pray it doesn't rain.

The car is narrow but road placement is initially difficult, because you can see the front wheel on the drivers side.  You drive too close to the centre of the road.  The steering is light, it has no power assistance - the car only weighs 550kg - and doesn't need it.

Power delivery is linear.  Lots of torque and an easy going gearbox make progress smooth and rapid.  Very rapid.  0-60mph takes 4.5 seconds*.

Whilst the power delivery might be smooth in terms of acceleration it's not smooth in terms of the occupants being shaken to pieces.  A V-twin is by its nature unbalanced.  This is felt throughout the car, despite the engine being rubber mounted.  The wing mirrors vibrate, the rear view mirror vibrates, the fillings in your teeth vibrate.

The steering is precise - race car precise.  Initial turn in is fantastically good for a car with such skinny tyres and grip through the corners, whilst not quite like a cat on a velcro carpet, is impressive.

If you're going to lose traction it will be from take-off and it's the single driven wheel that will let go with a squeal and a rise of revs.  The front end, on normal roads and at legal speeds won't lose grip.

The driving experience is raw, exposed, focussed, brilliant, addictive, intoxicating and quite unique.  The sheer force of character of the car is seen at a standstill and felt through every fibre of your body on the go.

Above 40mph the effect of the exposed cockpit and low sides starts to be felt.  The wind in your hair becomes the wind in your eyes, mouth, nostrils and down the back of your neck.  If you wear a hat it will blow off unless it is secured in place.  This adds to the experience, but precautions should be taken if driving in winter - coat, gloves, goggles, hat that ties up under the chin.  Maybe even a helmet.

You can cruise through town and attract stares from onlookers or you can hoon along your favourite roads and have a better and more thrilling time than you would on a roller-coaster.

Every corner is a visceral thrill.  Driving at speed in a straight line is tremendous fun.  Communication with the road is direct and undiluted.  Minute adjustments to the controls deliver  instant results.  At 70mph you try and yell a joyous affirmation to the world that is the best car you could be driving on this road at this point in time but find you can't because the wind has taken your breath and voice away.

The Morgan 3 Wheeler is a completely impractical proposition, but if you want practical then go buy an SUV and die of boredom.  3 Wheeler owners will have another car for ferrying the family around, travelling long distances and attending business meetings but they will use their Morgan on any other journey.  If you have one you will want to use it.

As with any other Morgan the 3 Wheeler is built on site in Malvern, you can choose from one of 1,000 colours, a range of designs, graphics and options and you can go and watch your car being built if you like.  Alternatively you can opt to purchase a photographic record of its construction.

The Morgan 3 Wheeler is the most unusual car I have ever driven, but it is one of the best.

* Note: An owner has written to me disputing the 0-60mph time and saying just under 7 seconds is nearer the mark.

Stats:

Price - £31,140
Engine 2 litre V-twin
Transmission - 5 speed manual
0-60mph - 4.5 seconds
Top Speed - 115mph
Power - 85bhp
Torque - N/A
Economy - N/A
Weight - 550kg
CO2 - N/A

Review by Matt Hubbard

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Jaguar XFR-S Sportbrake - Price, Specs And Photos

Jaguar has revealed the XFR-S Sportbrake.  It'll cost £82k and produces 542bhp.

The Jaguar XF Sportbrake is a fantastic car but it has only, so far, been available as a diesel.  The XFR-S is an amazing car but it has only, so far, been available as a saloon.

Now, in order to give the Germans a kicking Jaguar has finally put its brilliant 5 litre supercharged V8 in the estate version of the XF to create the XFR-S Sportbrake.

The Jaguar XFR-S Sportbrake produces 542bhp and 501 lb ft of torque, and makes a ton of noise whilst doing so.  The price is £82,495 and it'll be available to order from 1 April 2014.

Acceleration is swift with 0-60mph taking 4.6 seconds, and top speed is 186mph.  Chassis and aerodynamic enhancements help to tame the extra power.  The suspension is 30% stiffer, the electronic diff has been recalibrated, the front geometry has been revised and stiffened and the steering has been sharpened.

The gearbox is an 8-speed ZF unit with the Quickshift functionality normally found in the F-Type, which means it'll blip on down changes - and make an awesome noise.

The XFR-S Sportbrake will be available in five colours including the Ultra Blue you see in the photos.

The Jaguar XFR-S Sportbrake looks pretty awesome.

By Matt Hubbard

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The New Ford Focus - Some Interesting Details

The 2014 Ford Focus has just been announced.  It's quite an important car for Ford, the previous generations having sold 12 million units worldwide since 1998, and will be on sale later this year.  You'll be able to see it at the Geneva Motor Show in a couple of weeks time.

The press release is quite long and lists all of the features and enhancements on the new Focus over the old one.

Driving enthusiasts will be happy that a mainstream car focuses on driving dynamics to such an extent.  The engines on offer include the excellent 1.0 EcoBoost with 125bhp, and a 180bhp 1.5 litre EcoBoost.  There are some diesels too.

The suspension, steering, electronic stability and chassis stiffness have all been improved and tweaked to make the new Focus a better driver's car than the old one - which was pretty good in the first place.

The new Focus is packed to the gills with technology, some of which is helpful to drivers and will make roads safer and some of which is bound to bewilder some drivers.

The Focus will get Ford's MyKey technology.  In essence this means if your children use the car then they have their own key.  This key can be programmed to control various aspects of the car, for example it can limit the volume of the audio system, limit the top speed and prevent the stability control being turned off.

The car gets the latest lighting technology including Bi-Xenon HID headlights which adapt to the surrounding conditions to shine as much light as possible on the road without blinding other drivers.

The sheer amount of safety and info tech is of Volvo proportions.  The Focus gets Ford's SYNC-2 system with a new satnav and voice controls, although in my experience voice controls rarely work properly and in the long term sensibly placed buttons do a better job.

The Focus will be able to parallel park by itself, and will use aids to help reversing into spaces.  Neither of these are particularly useful in the real world but a few other aids are genuinely useful.  Cross Traffic Alert is used when reversing out of a parking space and warns the driver of approaching hazards.  Also, Park-Out Assist takes control of the steering whilst the driver is manoeuvring out of a parallel parking space.  This is useful for people who are unable to judge distance and speed.

The Focus will be able to brake itself at low and high speed should the need arise.  Using similar technology the car has adaptive cruise control and, if the ACC is not engaged, it can still detect, warn and brake itself if the traffic ahead has slowed but the driver hasn't responded.

If a manufacturer is to sell a mainstream car to a worldwide market it has to include the latest safety and entertainment kit.  The Focus has a decent balance of the latest technology even if a lot of it will go unused.

By Matt Hubbard

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Matt's Diary - The Porsche and Triumph Come Out Of Hibernation

We sometimes write Speedmonkey updates called "Speedmonkey Fleet" in which the progress of Colin and my vehicles are logged.  This time a diary seemed more appropriate.

The BMW and Porsche in the drive just prior to being cleaned

Over the course of the winter I had various press cars in the drive.  December saw a Honda Accord Tourer, Jaguar XF and Infiniti QX.  All fine and worthy vehicles but none other than the XF provided any thrills.  The XF may have an image problem ('old man's car', and if you need to ask then maybe it doesn't have an image problem) but it's one of those cars that is more than the sum of its parts.  Something about the Jag saloon makes it feel almost magical.

All through December the Porsche 924S had lain in our neighbours drive.  Over the Christmas break I started it just once and used the BMW E36 323i SE Touring as a day to day car.  The Porsche will run in any weather but suffers from condensation, which was particularly bad during our spectacularly wet winter.

Come January and a Volvo XC60 D5 arrived, followed by a Range Rover SDV8, Mitsubishi Outlander, Subaru Outback and Toyota RAV4.  Again all quite worthy cars but only the Range Rover stood out.  And stand out it did.  The new Range Rover is magnificent and you should buy one - if you have £80k.

And then, once all the shiny new metal had gone back there was a space in the drive.  A Porsche 924S shaped space.

The second weekend in February saw a miraculous break in the clouds.  I trotted round the neighbours with the Porsche key.  It hadn't turned a wheel in 10 weeks and had only run for 3 minutes in all that time.  Add in the fact it's done 137,000 miles and was built in 1987 and I was slightly nervous that the old girl would start, and if it did it would have seized brakes and drag half a ton of gravel out of the neighbour's drive.

I opened the door and climbed in.  The inside was thick with water on the windows, roof, dash and rear seats.  The sunroof had a minor leak which dripped down on to the back seats.

I mopped up the condensation and turned the key.  It fired up first time. Sounded healthy and no smoke other than an initial white puff of cloud from moisture sitting in the exhaust.

The Porsche vibrates quite a bit at idle but increase the revs to just over 1,000rpm and everything smooths out. The 2.5 litre inline-4 allied with a stainless steel exhaust system makes for an aural treat.  Grunty and growly at low revs and a sharp, crackly bark at high - with infrequent explosions when changing gears right at the limit.

I engaged first gear.  Gearbox tight and accurate, clutch nice and light.  Hurrah!  The brakes were free and we rolled out of the drive.  I couldn't resist a run.

I drove the car for half an hour around the local back roads.  After two months of SUVs, ECO buttons, electronic handbrakes and too many diesel engines it was pure joy to burn some petrol and ping the light and low Porsche between the hedges, to drift around corners and to feel the feedback from the chassis through fingers, bum and brain.

I got back home and, enthused by the weather, went to fire up the Triumph Street Triple.  Nothing.  The battery was dead.  I sat the battery on my bench and plugged it into the charger.  After 24 hours it was apparent that not only was the battery dead but so was the charger.  I ordered a battery (£40) and new Oxford charger (£25) from the internet, they arrived in the week and I made sure the bike would be ready for the next sunny day.

The next weekend saw even better weather so the BMW and Porsche were thoroughly cleaned.  I even tried to fix the Porsche's leaky sunroof by soaking the seal in sunflower oil.  This may have worked.  I haven't seen any drips since but then again the biblical rain has pretty much stopped.

And so to the bike.  Sunday was sunny.  The battery was fine.  I kitted up, cocked a leg over the seat, fired up and rode down to my local garage to fill up and check the tyre pressures.  £10 and 10 lb (of air in the front tyre) later and I was off.

An hour later I returned, exhilarated.  Nothing, not even the fastest super cars, can match a 100bhp, 150kg motorcycle for thrills and spills.

0 to 60 takes about 3 seconds but only if you're brave with 100bhp going through only one wheel and changing up at 14,000rpm via a close cut gearbox.  You never forget how to ride.  Lean in to corners. Not going to make it? Don't panic - lean some more.

Mind you after an hour's riding I was freezing.  It must have been 5°C and after a while my fingers started to go numb.  By the time I got home and wrapped my poor, frozen digits around a hot cup of tea I could hardly feel them.  The pain as they warmed back up was agonising.  Worth it though.

My resolutions for 2014 are to drive more interesting cars, use the bike much more often and go on more trips.  Oh, and try and prise some press bikes out of the manufacturers.

This is starting well with various things on the horizon.  I'm taking delivery of a Jaguar F-Type V8 S press car this week.  I'm seriously looking forward to experiencing the F-Type for a week.

I've just come back from a trip to Morgan Motors in Malvern but this article was written before the trip so I'm sure to tweet and write about what should prove to be a fantastic visit and a drive in the 3-wheeler.

Also in March are a trip with Audi to the New Forest to chew the fat over a fine dinner and a few beers before spending the next day driving the new S3 saloon and A3 convertible, and two days in Geneva with Castrol.  Now that is going to be good fun.  The first day involves a presentation of the new Castrol oil technologies followed by a tour of CERN and I'll spend the next day at the Geneva Motor Show.

So, in motoring terms, the year has started well.  I have no press cars booked other than the F-Type.  I'm aiming for more sporty cars but they are much harder to come by for a blogger than hatches, SUVs and front wheel drive saloons and estates.

The Porsche 924S just after its first run in 10 weeks

The BMW lives 'outside' the drive, the Porsche 'inside'

Biker selfie.  Freezing

The Triumph after a run. Filthy

A lot of our local roads are like this. The BMW will wade through 12 inches

See, filthy

By Matt Hubbard

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What Is The Point Of Speed Cameras?

Asking what is the point of speed cameras might seem like a dumb question.  To stop people speeding is the obvious answer.  But think about the wholly inappropriate locations of most cameras and the answer could just as well be, to generate revenue.  Or to control us.

Speed limits are often sensible but often they are not sensible.  A 30mph limit in a village is sensible but that last 100 yards of 30mph limit outside of a village, before it turns into a 60mph limit, is not sensible.

For a speed limit to be appropriate, and to be respected by drivers, it must be located in a place where it makes sense for it to be located.  Why is that 100 yard stretch of open road, with no driveways off it, protected by a 30mph limit whilst an identical stretch of road just after it has a 60mph limit?

Usually because 30mph zones reflect parish boundaries.  So if the parish extends half a mile into rolling countryside where the road is open and wide and contains no major hazards the limit would still be 30mph until such point as the parish boundary ends.

Yet this is often where fixed and mobile speed cameras are located.  I have previously pointed out two examples, one in Oxfordshire and one in Berkshire.

I was also stopped and fined on the Isle of Man on a section of the TT route.  I had filled my bike with fuel and turned left out of a petrol station.  The road was clear (and had no buildings either side) and I accelerated through the last few yards of the 30mph section into the 60mph zone.  A policeman was hiding behind a stone wall and zapped me doing 38mph.

Yes I was wrong and yes it cost me £200 but what was the policeman doing, hiding with a speed camera, on a section of road where I would cause no harm to anyone, instead of in a busy town or village where I could genuinely be a menace at that speed?

The answer to this and the vast majority of speed camera locations is twofold.  One is to generate revenue and the other is control.

Police forces, councils and government love extra money. Tele-Traffic, who make speed cameras told undercover newspaper reporters who were posing as Eastern Europeans looking to buy Tele-Traffic cameras for their country that they could catch, "businessmen in the morning and school-run mums in the afternoon," and that, "Setting up cameras in new areas was the equivalent of having 'a blank cheque book', guaranteeing 'when you first set up you will have lots of offences, you will have bucketfuls'."

Speed cameras, and speed limits, on motorways are just as bad.  The limit is 70mph but 70mph is often stupidly slow, and sometimes too fast.  It depends on the road conditions, traffic, availability of a hard shoulder.

Modern cars with competent drivers at the wheel could quite easily and safely travel at 100mph for mile after mile.  Yet we are all treated equally and made to travel at 70mph, and targeted by hidden mobile cameras operated from motorway bridges.

Ideally a higher level driving test could be taken by those wanting to drive at higher speeds on roads were it is safe to do so.  Those who pass the test would have a magnetic disc to attach to whatever car they are in at the time.

At least that would be fair, because right now a lot of speed limits are ridiculous and speed cameras exist not to slow drivers but to punish those who transgress by a couple of mph.  But it would never be implemented because the state is too stupid to realise that humans are capable of intelligent thought.

The M62 around Birmingham is, for me, the most stressful road in the entire UK road network.  The sheer randomness of the variable speed limits - 40, 60, 40, 50 within a few miles - means having to constantly watch the speedo instead of the road.  If the limit on the overhead gantry is set to 40 (even if the road is clear) and you do 42mph you will be caught, processed, fined and points added to your licence.

More money and control for the state.  Less respect for the state from motorists.

Variable speed limits and cameras can now be found on the western section of the M25 and around Bristol on the M4.

It makes journeys much less pleasant.

If I need to travel to the south west I now use the A303 but even that has its share of mobile speed traps.  A local recently told me about a mobile camera which was held by a police officer in a lay-by.  The officer was hiding behind an HGV.

How is that meant to benefit anybody other than Somerset and Avon Police? 

I was recently travelling on the A34 just south of Oxford.  The road was quite busy but the traffic was flowing.  We were doing 70mph when all of a sudden the traffic slowed sharply, which is a dangerous occurrence on any road.  

The cause was a mobile speed camera in a lay-by.  Drivers saw it and immediately braked for no reason other than the instinct not to be punished by the state if they were briefly travelling at 73mph. 

The mass of traffic meant that nobody would have physically been able to travel at more than 70mph yet Thames Valley police had decided to place a man in that lay-by for the morning, causing more danger than if he had not been there.

Speed cameras, unless they are protecting road workers, schools or other sensitive locations are disingenuous and do nothing to protect anything other than income for and control by the state.

By the way, I live on a 60mph road.  My driveway directly abuts the road.  Half a mile away there is a 30mph section of road with no houses abutting it.  Where do you think the mobile camera is often parked?

The speed camera van in the photo say THINK on the side.  I have thought and I think speed cameras should be abolished and should be replaced by real police men and women who are able to use rational judgement.

By Matt Hubbard

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Pacific Coast My Way - Three Months Of Vehicular Misadventure With An 86 Coupe deVille

The man at the rental company was clearly used to the heat. It seemed to me that Stan was oblivious to the distracting wet stains around his armpits that were evident through his cheap standard issue nylon shirt.

Stan wanted five hundred dollars a week for the Honda Civic that was otherwise standing idle on the baking concrete outside. I suspected that Stan had made the figure up off the top of his head when he decided that he didn’t want our custom. Maybe it was the paper British driver’s licence; it was after all held together with sellotape, the result of one too many hot washes. It could have been the passport, covered in recent Colombian entry and exit stamps that I had presented to back up the sellotaped licence that Stan had found so offensive. 

Whatever the reason, Sweaty Stan’s suspicions were well and truly raised. I knew that Stan would be damned if he were to let two beatnik Brits drive off his lot in a brand new car on long-term hire with only ‘Care of KOA’ (the national campsite chain) as a mailing address.

As I glanced through the window at the queue forming at the bus stop, I remembered how the previous day a bag lady had refused to sit next to me on the bus claiming that I had murdered her husband in cold blood some years earlier. No, public transport in the good old U.S. seemed for crazies far worse than Liz and I. Gypsies, tramps and thieves as Liz had commented during a recent trip to Los Alamos mall. 

I knew that we needed wheels of our own. Liz and I were running out of choices if we were to make any headway on our tour of coastlines featured in Beach Boys records. At nearly six and a half thousand dollars for three months in a hot, asthmatic Civic (by Stan’s spurious reckoning) I figured that we could strike a better deal on the second hand lots out of town. Besides which Sweaty Stan had already started supplying his air-conditioned carriages to the smarter dressed congregation who were waiting impatiently at the back of the office. Taking feigned blindness to be the international code for negotiation over, Liz and I collected our identification and headed towards the used car lots of Cypress Hill.

The Caddy seemed to be the romantic choice of vehicle for an all American road trip. What better way to blend in with middle America than to drive a blue-collar conservative, baby blue Cadillac Coupe deVille? Authentic camouflage in every detail, the bodywork was pristine and original, it said to the casual observer, “I am respectable, careful and, above all, not a Mexican”. The whitewall tyres and parched grey landau roof suggested an elderly owner, a snowbird retiree retreating to the sunshine to aid his bad hip. 

There was a sticker in the rear window that read ‘California Masons Say NO To Dope’ that suggested powerful friends. Yes, this was the car to use if we were to sneak up close and snatch a glance of real America without the real America getting sight of us. In case of any real trouble, the bumpers were like chromed motorway guard rails ready to clear any ugly protest and leave the fuel injected V8 to gallop out of danger with confidence and grace that the little Honda rental could never deliver.

Always the accountant, Liz calculated that with the tax and insurance and a full tank of gas the Caddy owed the travel budget three thousand dollars, a respectable saving on the Civic and a much more respectable vehicle even if a little long in the tooth. Theoretically the insipid travellers had three and a half thousand dollars for petrol and repairs and they were free of Sweaty Stan’s excess mileage charges.

Although already tired of L.A. and keen to break for Ventura County, Liz and I had to spend longer than expected registering our new ride. Creating a phoney address for the computer at the Department of Motor Vehicles (so we could avoid any further unnecessary communications regarding terminal speed and choice of parking facility) was no simple exercise in data entry. 

Were it not for the existence of Manchester Beach making our flam more believable Liz and I would almost certainly still be there today. By the time the computer had mulled over the bogus facts, we were on the wrong side of Santa Monica and the wrong end of the Los Angeles rush hour to embark on a directionless jolly across the state so we gratefully accepted Liz’s brother Ray’s offer of chicken balls and rice with unconditional free board for the night. 

Luckily Ray and his wife Cath had been Long Beach residents for a year already and had been providing us with irony and sarcasm that was scarce in U.S. shops and restaurants, not to mention the use of their 1988 Mustang convertible without which the losers and lunatics on the Red Line would have surely feasted on our bones.

“She drives like a Lexus,” the mechanic told me when he brought the forty-one-hundred Coupe deVille back from the smog test. I guessed that the mechanic was another otherwise unemployable member of the family that ran their social club from the car lot. Clearly the family at Expo Motors were not as proud of him as Avis had been of Stan or else the mechanic would have surely had his name stitched over his breast too. 

During the test drive I had only driven the metallic blue gentleman’s club through the streets of Long Beach. The traffic had never gotten any faster than twenty miles per hour and with Los Angeles laid out on a grid pattern there had been no opportunities to conduct any high speed manoeuvring test. The decision to buy had been influenced by the automatically dipping rear-view mirror, the servo assisted ‘trunk’ grabber, the two vast blue leather sofas and the mad woman on the bus. 

I had taken it for granted that the car would probably handle something like an over laden supermarket trolley topped off with an impulse bought 42 inch widescreen T.V., however having left a mid 70’s Sweeney style Granada back in Blighty this did not worry me. By embracing both blast acceleration on the straights and sudden uncontrollable locking of the brakes on the corners I feel that all the mechanical components have a fair and equal workout. 

At twenty miles an hour the Caddy did display a respectable temperament- smooth, quiet and comfortable. I wondered when the Americans had started measuring quality by Japanese standards and as I joined the traffic on East Anaheim I began to notice the lack of indigenous iron on the roads. Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice taunted me, “They know something you don’t. Why do you think Uncle Sam drives a Toyota?”

If I hadn’t figured it out in Santa Cruz when, travelling north toward a gin fling in San Francisco, straining under the weight of a bounty of Danish pastries we liberated from the Motel 6 and unaccustomed to my blast and brake technique, the Caddy threw both front tyres on a particularly hairy stretch of the Pacific Coast Highway, then I definitely began to understand a week later when passing Blythe on the California/Arizona border. 

We had been overtaking titanic motorised caravans for three or four hours when Liz first noticed the noise. “Just then. It did it again. When you swerved to run down that tumbleweed. An awful drumming, vibrating noise every time you put your foot down.” She was right; I could feel the vibration travel up my left leg as I rested my foot on the door mirror. Somewhere within the motor a con rod was beating a piston to high-speed death. 

My left foot suggested that there may well be further brutal damage as pieces of molten piston chewed at the bearings. There followed a difficult operation whereby I had to intermittently blip the throttle so as to locate the con rod inside the severed piston. Once successfully mated, constant pressure by way of speed was needed to limp the car to skilled help outside Phoenix. For the next three hundred miles we passed no one.

“Holy shit! Have you been in some sort of an accident? God-damn engine’s in crooked.” Andy, my skilled help, was referring to the front wheel drive layout of the Coupe deVille. Although Cadillac was the first car manufacturer to offer a front wheel drive model in the late 1960s, Americans, it appeared, still did not approve of what they saw as a European novelty. However, sensing the emotional tension of a tired English lady, the friendly redneck and I agreed a deal where I would spray paint his hot rod pickup truck whilst he would fit a second-hand engine in the lame Coupe in his Ma’s yard. 

Both parties struggled to meet their commitments. Andy discovered that short of resorting to his Smith and Wesson .500, removing a ‘crooked’ engine from a Cadillac was no backyard task, whilst I discovered that if I have to work it is better done in mild Manchester than arid Arizona. In a desert climate paint and body filler tend to set in their containers. Local tradition dictated mass beer consumption post lunchtime and after a week had passed I was two stones lighter and had lost many of my natural minerals. Both parties agreed that their vehicles were near enough done, besides Andy was missing out on a beer can and cacti cull in the desert so his mind was no longer on the job as he sat on his Ma’s tumble drier clicking the cylinder round on his gun and checking the barrel for oil or tooth enamel.

As I joined the traffic on North Ocotillo Drive, the Caddie moving quietly under its own power for the first time in three weeks, I finally figured out why Uncle Sam drives a Toyota. There is less chance of baking in the desert for the sake of a $3 wrist-pin when you’ve got a Corolla than there is when you’ve got a Coupe deVille. However, in a Toyota I would have missed the Superstition Mountain in Apache Junction, I would have missed Tortilla Flats and the Lost Dutchman Mine, and I would have missed the refreshingly homely hospitality of Andy and his family who even offered to accommodate us in their demountable camper in his Ma’s yard which we might have accepted had it not been for the territorial pit-bull terrier that had shredded the mattress to confetti. 

As I pulled in at a gas station and took my place amongst the Hondas, the Toyotas and Volvos queuing for gas it suddenly struck me; poor quality eighties engineering is a proud sponsor of small town America. Without it travellers would just speed on past the communities that depend on your stranded dollars. Without old Caddies and short sighted Englishmen word would never get out that there is more to America than Mickey Mouse and bastardized Rugby. 

If your car doesn’t consume water by the bucket full you will never learn that the world’s tallest thermometer lives in Barstow and you’re unlikely to ever need to spend the day floating down the Salt River surrounded by the Black Rock Canyon whilst waiting for your radiator to be re-cored.

In defence of the Cadillac though, the replacement engine, ripped from a write-off with an old seatbelt and Andy’s C10 pick-up, never skipped a beat. Backyard cunning and beer keg planning ensured a successful transplant with only a spongy engine mount giving cause to grumble. Billy-Bob, as he came to be known, went on to rack up nearly seven thousand miles during our three month tour of the southwest before the authorities insisted we return home.

Billy-Bob was my first yank and despite the Blythe detonation I still watch the classifieds for another Coupe deVille. The memories of sleeping in the Caddy in amongst the Giant Redwoods in Capitola, drag-racing Hondas up the Las Vegas strip, even drinking beer and talking guns and gasoline with my redneck buddies all outweigh the nerve racking and engine wrecking run through the desert the day I blew up Billy-Bob.

By George Bailey

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