Archive for February, 2009

Friday Lunchtime Semiotics

Friday, February 27th, 2009

We’re becoming a little obsessed with decon­structing the way cars are marketed and advertised. It’s clear to us that by studying the way cars are repres­ented by the hipsters in slick haircuts is the best way to tease out stuff about ourselves and our relation­ships with our motors. Join us in a bit of Friday lunchtime semiotics.

This first viral ad from Greenpeace might appear to be a little obvious. But peel back a layer or two and it’s clear that the producers used a very clever way to manip­ulate a car consumer’s ideas about themselves. Take an ordinary office Joe, besuited and bound by the collar-​​and-​​tie and very aware of the opinions of others. Not only is he increas­ingly hated by his colleagues (we don’t know why until the final frame), but his very idea of himself is defined by the car he drives. When he finally makes it to the (empty) car park, the full horror of his existence is revealed, but in the sparse spaces and cool lighting that is such a feature of mainstream car adverts. Self loathing manip­u­lated, office bullying vindicated – all in the visual language of automotive desire.

This little classic, on the other hand, takes issue with the smugness of the ecolo­gical road warrior. Anyone who has ever driven in London or Paris or New York City will attest to the little irrit­a­tions provoked cyclists as they cruise past you in traffic and use your motor as little more than a convenient bit of street furniture to lean on before jumping the light. Every one who has ever cycled, too, has to admit to the feeling of power and self-​​satisfaction that comes with witnessing city motorists’ frustra­tions. “I’m saving the world, saving money, getting fit, and am going to be on time for my appointment sucker!” is the thought that etched triumphantly on your lycra-​​clad arse. A swift shift into reverse from the guy in the Fiat and the payoff is priceless.

This, to take another tack entirely, messes with the field of cars and national stereotype. Nestled inside the motoring mind of every German, the trope implies, is the beating heart of a sideways-​​obsessed scooby jocky, who could live anywhere between Swindon and Yokohama. You also, dear consumer, desire a car that even the studious Teutons will envy and feel shame when their creative souls prove less cutting edge than their technical acumen. The inclusion of Rock Me Amadeus, by the most famous Austrian (apart from a certain dictator with a tache) is a subtle piece of fun-​​poking at the perceived joylessness of Germanic efficiency. The latest Impreza (which we’d previ­ously thought of as a little lumpen), appears almost balletic.

The Dreams of a Little Cortina

Thursday, February 26th, 2009

cortina-rear

It was a scorcher the day my Grandad picked up his new car. He had been telling me stories at bedtime about the little Cortina for what seemed my entire life. He would make up adven­tures for the cheeky little motor and I would sit rapt and beg for more when it was time to turn off the light. In these stories the little Cortina was always getting in and out of trouble; being chased by either the police or the bad boys. I can remember vivid dreams of adven­tures through mountains and across deserts, or screeching around sweeping London corners like they did on the telly. When I think of those dreams in my mind they assume an intense, colourful reality.

Perhaps that’s what happens when you grow up. Your dreams assume a greater reality than the prosaic world around you.

I suppose you always remember your childhood as an endless series of sunny days. But on this afternoon ( I think it was a Sunday) it was so hot you could feel the heat radiating from the car’s shiny new bodywork. There was birdsong and the tang of hyacinths in the air. I can remember my Grandad’s face as he pulled up outside. When he opened the door and I climbed in and burned my legs on the hot black vinyl. There were pretty dials and the smell of heat and polish and my Grandad’s after­shave. He was in his best clothes (that’s why I think it was a Sunday). He told me to jump in the back and my Nan climbed in the passenger seat up front. There were coos and oohs and aahs as we pulled away, and he pipped on the horn and waved as the neigh­bours came out to see us pull away. It seemed as if rather than simply going for a wander in the hazy Essex countryside we were driving away into a future of endless possib­ility and happiness.

Looking at the styling of the Mk1 Cortina now, you can see it evokes the glamour encoded in its name. Until the Cortina’s release in 1962, English cars had been given quint­es­sen­tially English names. The Oxford. The Cambridge. The Wolseley. Now Ford decide to name their new family car after a glamourous Italian ski resort. In the suburbs of sixties England, far away from the bohemian circles where cultural revolution was in the air, anything vaguely Latin was as outlandish as anyone could imagine. Ironically, as the model evolved from the pretty Mark 1 through to the more brutish and unsoph­ist­icated later models of the seventies and eighties, the Cortina became known as little more than a Dagenham Dustbin — a byword for automotive mediocrity.

That’s what happens when you grow up. Dreams assume a greater reality than the prosaic world around you.

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If you need classic Ford insurance then give Adrian Flux a call on 0800 089 0050.

Cool Caravans?

Wednesday, February 25th, 2009

Caravans get a bad press, partic­u­larly from people whose passion is motoring. When you look at it object­ively, they should be a good idea. You get to exper­ience the freedom of the open road without having to spend appalling nights under sweaty vinyl, lugging around overpriced and fetid camping equipment. Once you’ve pitched your van, you still have the motor you came with, and are not tied ether to that annoying compact you tow behind your campervan/​Winnebago or an at-​​times unprac­tical scooter or bicycle. And although trousers that zip off at the thigh to become a pair taupe-​​coloured shorts might seem to be de rigueur amongst the caravanning community, appar­ently they are not obligatory.

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The distaste for caravans among many of us is broadly divided along the axes of two arguments: 1) they clog up the roads of Europe every summer with their inter­minable bank holiday crawl; 2) 90 % of them are hideously designed. They look, in other words, awful and you wouldn’t be seen dead in them. We’re not sure whether or not the Airstream, the iconic line of caravans made exclus­ively by a family firm in Ohio for the last three quarters of a century – can be towed any quicker than your average European monstrosity. The latter problem however, is much less of an issue. In fact, the stainless steel curves of an original forties-​​era Airstream caravan (pictured above) recently graced the haloed halls of the Museum of Modern Art. And this is not just a design classic. According to the company’s press office they are super-​​durable. Over sixty five percent of all Airstream trailers ever made are still on the road or in use today. Another more alarming statistic is that of the roughly 400 US trailer companies active in 1936 Airstream is the only survivor. So, buy an Airstream and you are not only contrib­uting to the survival of some of the hard-​​pressed blue-​​collar workers of America, you are buying a sustainable, relat­ively low-​​impact product.

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Whatever motivates Airstreamers, the company recently launched a new model into the European market. The Bambi 422 (above) is a relat­ively light and nimble two-​​berther that can be towed by any mid-​​size saloon (A three series BMW or a Golf, for example), and it comes with things like a shower cubicle and vacuum toilet – as well as the external awning – as standard.

But the inherent practic­al­ities of the design doesn’t account for the Airstream’s cult-​​like following. With its stripped down, modernist appeal it is just one of the many brands of retro Americana that has been lifted into an arena of love-​​like devotion. Witness how the mechanical simplicity (and ineffi­ciency) of the V-​​Twin Harley has been made into an icon. Witness also the devotion inspired by stripped down, three chord rock’n’roll. Could it be that the Airstream is the caravanning equivalent of Eddie Cochrane?

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So while the roads of Europe and the UK may be graced by a slightly more stylish annoyance this summer, in the states, Airstream have upped the bar in the sleek stakes with The Basecamp Trailer which is designed to be the stepping-​​off point for walkers climbers — even surfers. This little pod has wrap around windows, a skylight, an optional tent, a sink, cooking area, and a ramp for storing outdoor gear while you’re on the move.

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Could it be that with long distance travel getting more expensive and inher­ently unsus­tainable, that Caravanning (whisper it) might just become as cool as camping this summer? We won’t be donning the taupe zip-​​offs just yet. But the idea doesn’t seem as ridiculous as it once did.

For great Caravan insurance use Adrian Flux, click or call 0800 089 0050.

Gangster Lean

Tuesday, February 24th, 2009

Everyone loves a gangster movie. And there can’t have been many gangster flicks that didn’t feature a healthy garage full of bad-​​boy motors. Right from the beginning of the movie industry cars have been icons loaded with meaning. When repres­enting arche­types like villains, filmmakers from Ealing Studios to the Parisian Left Bank (not to mention Hollywood) have hooked up our most infamous characters with cars that have repres­ented everything from exist­ential ennui to oedipal mother love. Here are some of our favourites.

Think of the classic Brit flick of 1969 The Italian Job and what immedi­ately comes to mind is the trio of Mini Coopers blasting through the backstreets of Rome. But the preter­nat­urally beautiful opening sequence of the film, in which a Lamborghini Miura dances through a succession of alpine bends is absolute poetry in motion.

In 1971’s Get Carter, perhaps the best known and darkest British gangster movie of all time, there the classic getaway vehicle is featured, the MK 2 Jag. The Mk 2 represents a very British, very working class brand of hard-​​won sophist­ic­ation and brutal potency which is embodied in the flesh by the hard-​​as-​​nails Jack Carter, played by Michael Caine.

A lesser known, and certainly less successful Brit gangster flick was Villain, which also opened in cinemas in 1971 (which is probably why it flopped). A vodka-​​saturated Richard Burton plays Vic Dakin, the brutal, misogyn­istic central character in a vaguely absurd, cartoon cockney manner. Dakin and his crew plan a classic five vehicle heist (Jag Mk2, two Zephyr Zodiacs, and a couple of Triumphs). It all, predictably, goes horribly wrong. There’s a hilarious payoff at the end when Burton’s character ends up collecting a bundle of cash from the mattress where his beloved muvva lays and drinks endless cups of tea brought to her by her devoted but pyscho­pathic prodigy.

On the other side of the pond, meanwhile, French filmmakers of a more overtly philo­sophical bent had been refer­encing Hollywood gangster movies of old, whilst setting the action in a European setting with quint­es­sen­tially European characters. In one of the better known films of this era, Francois Truffaut’s A Bout de Soufflé (Breathless) dinky little Renaults perform the walk-​​on parts whilst the starring roles are reserved for Thunderbirds and Chevrolets. Stripped down monochro­matic fun.

In Jean-​​Pierre Melville’s beautiful and highly influ­ential Le Samourai, however, the lone assassin (played by French movie heart throb Alain Delon) scores a set of skeleton keys which can open any DS ever built. The main protag­onist goes on to use a succession of the iconic Citroens to ferry him about from hit-​​to-​​hit. The plot device in which the car becomes a universal conduit of murderous intent has been copied by directors as diverse as Hong Kong director John Woo (The Killer) and Jim Jarmusch (Ghostdog).

In complete contrast to Melville’s sparse symbolism, Martin Scorcese uses the cacophony of a full fleet of exploding Cadillacs to signify the inevitable fall-​​from-​​grace of a big time crook .

For gangsters in the movies, flash motors and nefarious intent are fatally inter­twined. Feel free to send us sugges­tions for your favourite automotive dispatches from the cinematic underworld.

Bravo Alfa!

Monday, February 23rd, 2009

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It’s common knowledge that to own an Alfa is a right of passage for every passionate lover of cars. Exactly why that is held to be a universal truth is not so easy to explain. Apart from their historical unreli­ab­ility and the notori­ously inadequate finish and build quality of even some recent launches from the classic brand, in our opinion, some recent Alfas have been downright clunky. The bubble-​​butted Alfasud was a rustbucket that haunted many a teenage dream with financial woe and crushing disap­pointment (my own included). The 156 was dull and the 159 was better but lacked a defining ‘Alfa’-factor. The Brera and the GT are undoubtedly pretty, but until the 8C Competizione finally went into production a couple of years ago, it looked like the company that brought us the breath­taking Type 33 Stradale and the Montréal had settled onto the weakly-​​lit plateau of unchar­ac­ter­istic mediocrity. But something happened with the launch of the first genuine supercar from Alfa for a couple of decades – and it is the revolution wrought by the 8C’s staggering beauty that is encoded in the Mito’s accessible blend of sensu­ality and affordability.

The launch of the three basic versions of the Mito in January this year caused a stir amongst Italian car obsessives, primarily because the company’s aim to produce the sportiest compact car ever just might have been achieved. You can see the sweeping, trian­gular lines of the 8C in the little car’s face and flank, and reports are that the looks are reflected in the driving exper­ience. The launch this week of the Mito GTA concept, which is due to be unveiled at the Geneva show in a couple of weeks’ time, is a further demon­stration of Alfa’s continued commitment to cars with sporty soul and innov­ation. In line with the famous GTA (Gran Turismo Alleggerito) signature, (Alleggerito means reduced weight in Italian), according to Alfa’s press releases the Mito GTA Concept prior­itises weight reduction and an optimum power-​​to-​​weight ratio. They’ve lightened the car consid­erably and lowered its centre of gravity by making components such as the tailgate spoiler, roof and mirror fairings in carbon-​​fibre; while aluminium is to be used extens­ively in the braking system, suspension, and some parts of the chassis. The compact new petrol engine employs advanced tech including direct injection, dual variable valve timing, state-​​of-​​the-​​art turbocharging and advanced electronic management systems. Alfa reckon the 1.8 litres will produce around 240 BHP. Under-​​floor aerody­namics have been improved, and the entire car has been lowered by 20mm and the compre­hens­ively revised chassis boasts an ‘active’ suspension system, which counteracts the transfer of load under accel­er­ation, stiff­ening the rear end and maxim­ising traction. The suspension also interacts with the braking system and steering to obtain the most efficient control of vehicle dynamics imaginable.

Evolution is rarely a smooth, gradual process. Sometimes it takes a bold leap like the 8C to infiltrate the bloodline of an automotive legend. The repack­aging of the essence of a true Italian supercar in a little runabout whose efficiency and afford­ab­ility chimes with the times is the most exciting devel­opment to hit our streets in some consid­erable time.

If you need Alfa Romeo insurance then call Adrian Flux on 0800 089 0050.

Six Wheels Good

Friday, February 20th, 2009

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Anyone who was a child in the 1970s can testify to the cultural import of The Thunderbirds. It wasn’t just the dashing derring-​​do of Scott, Virgil and the rest of the Tracy brothers that got little boys frothing with desire for adventure. In a forward thinking piece of proto feminist icono­graphy, the Anderson husband and wife team made aristo­cratic badass super­bitch Lady Penelope the kick-​​arse star of the show. The good Lady combined the strangely vapid expression of Paris Hilton with the comic book posh totty drawl of Margaret Thatcher. She was clearly as image obsessed as the former and as power-​​crazed as the latter. Just look at the way she ordered Parker, her long suffering butler around.

But it was, of course, the good Lady’s ride, the six wheeled FAB 1 Rolls Royce in shocking pink, that was the centrepiece of the Anderson aesthetic. Whether or not the backroom staff at the normally conser­vative Panther Westwinds company were Lady Penelope fans, they went ahead and produced in 1977 a car that was the inverse to the FAB 1: every bit as outrageous, but futur­istic in the mean, menacing way that the ficti­tious Rolls attempted to disguise in that shocking pink paintjob. The Panther 6 was a convertible powered by a mid-​​mounted 8.2 litre Cadillac V8 with twin turbochargers, appar­ently capable of producing over 600bhp. Only two were ever produced and though the car’s top speed was never verified, the manufac­turers claimed that the car was capable of over 200MPH, which would have made it the first production car to hit that magic watershed. It included a detachable hard top and a convertible soft top as well as a full array of electronic instru­ment­ation. Air condi­tioning was included, as well as an automatic fire extin­guisher, electric seats and windows, a mobile telephone and a television.

Panther Westwinds had enjoyed success since its launch in 1972 with its series of retro-​​styled cars based on the mechanical components of standard products from other manufac­turers. At the end of the seventies the company exper­i­enced financial problems, was sold to Korean interests and moved disas­ter­ously into racing, before finally being swallowed up in 1990 by the Syang Yong corpor­ation. The producers of the Panther 6 may of course, have been equally inspired by the P34 Tyrell that had rubbed motorsport’s cloying orthodoxy in the mud in 1976. Tyrell designer Derek Gardner’s theory that smaller front wheels could drastically lessen drag; the reduced grip offset by an extra set of steerable wheels, proved a hit, until Jody Sheckter dismissed the car as a piece of junk (despite having won the Swedish Grand Prix in the thing with team mate Derek Depailler in second place). Poor old Parker’s saving grace was that he, like Sheckter and Depailler and only a handful of other individuals, got to exper­ience serious driving in a six wheeled supercar.

Tell me again: who killed the electric car?

Thursday, February 19th, 2009

gm-ev2

The contro­versy surrounding the ill-​​fated EV-​​1, the electric car that General Motors launched with much fanfare in 1996, seems a little long-​​in-​​the-​​tooth for these days of envir­on­mental and economic apoca­lypse. But isn’t it worth re-​​addressing the conspiracy theories? Could it be that ‘big oil’ bolstered by a boost­erist economic climate and a Republican admin­is­tration sunk to the hindquarters in the corporate board­rooms of America, really scuppered a product that could have been the true herald of a carbon neutral America? Could the original EV-​​1 have been as good as Tom Hanks (the universal voice of reason for the American liberal) said it was? Surely there will be boffins and CEOs in Detroit as I write frantically drawing up plans for a new depression-​​busting electric car that will drag America and its auto industry from the brink of economic collapse. Surely the time is right for a mass-​​market electric vehicle that will appeal to real drivers and lovers of the automobile as fetish object. The political and economic reality of things, as these two excerpts help us under­stand, is incredibly complicated.

According to Californian academic David Spurling, in around fifteen years it is expected that there will be two billion vehicles driving around the planet. If even 60 percent of these vehicles are as polluting as the average contem­porary vehicle, it means by most accepted estimates, our current emissions targets will be laughably out of line – and climate change may have gone way over tipping point – with disastrous consequences. The technology to build exciting, desirable non-​​pollutant cars has been there for a long time. The real problem lies in rallying the investment in the infra­structure needed to facil­itate the widespread marketing, sales and distri­bution of electric vehicles, plug-​​in electric hybrids, fuel-​​cell driven vehicles and other emissions free motors. It perhaps then shouldn’t be surprising that the EV-​​1 might have been scuppered by an industry savvy enough to know that the world wasn’t ready for such a revolu­tionary product. The question is; where do we go from here? And how does Barack Obama’s ‘bail out’ and the ‘green stimulus’ effect the wider world? Because of the two billion cars that are expected to be clogging up the world’s highways by 2020, only a fraction of them will be driven by Americans.