Posts Tagged ‘Contemporary Cars’

The Importance of Being Mitsu

Thursday, December 15th, 2011

The Mitsubishi Evo, much as we love it, is the only ‘halo car’ the company has. The trouble is that the Evo has been a cult success: so mytho­lo­gized that its parent has almost been forgotten. It’s an Evo far more than it’s a Mitsubishi, and little of its mojo has ever rubbed off on the rest of the range.

Perhaps this is because they’re too far apart. The Evo has always been a no holds barred, banzai supercar-​​slayer, while the bulk of Mitsubishi’s global range has been automotive white goods: functional, reliable, clever in their way, but a little dull.

And Mitsubishi could really have used the help on occasions. Despite the explosive growth of the Japanese car industry in the seventies and eighties it has never achieved the colossal scale and global footprint of Toyota, or the reputation for obsessive-​​compulsive engin­eering of Honda, or the stable links with a foreign carmaker that Nissan now enjoys with Renault. Like Toyota, it had a brief false start making cars before the war — its very first was a four-​​wheel drive saloon, spookily akin to the Evo – before getting sidelined into war work and taking its time to find its feet in Japan’s extreme post-​​war austerity, finally hitting its stride in the sixties.

Mitsubishi Motors is part of the vast Mitsubishi keiretsu, a very Japanese way of doing business in which a ‘family’ of firms with the same name, shared origins and often with cross-​​shareholdings co-​​operate. They share the red, three-​​diamond ‘propeller’ logo; actually not a ship’s propeller as many think, but an abstract rendering of a Japanese clan symbol.

The keiretsu’s greatest product was probably the Zero naval fighter of the Second World War. It was noted for its extreme speed and manoeuv­rab­ility, again an odd precursor of the Evo’s attributes. It’s always easier for the winning side to take pride in their war machinery but we doubt Jaguar or Bentley would try to sell Spitfire or Lancaster special editions to Germany. But this didn’t stop Mitsu making a ‘Zero Fighter’ special edition of the Evo (below).

The keiretsu also stepped in to buy out Mitsubishi Motors after a torrid financial time in the nineties and noughties, the nadir coming in 2000 when it admitted that it had covered up safety defects for 20 years. In 2004 former president Katsuhiko Kawasoe, who had resigned in 2000, was arrested with 10 others after two more deaths brought more cover-​​ups to light. The massive sales slump after the 2000 revel­a­tions forced DaimlerChrysler to end its relationship with Mitsubishi Motors.

But there is more to Mitsu than the Evo, scandals, red ink and misjudged special editions. Its small cars are often terrific, evidenced by the i. The i-​​MIEV was one of the first of the current crop of half-​​decent electric cars to get to market. The Pajero off-​​roader (despite sounding like the Spanish slang for masturb­ation, another misjudged name) is well-​​regarded in places where people depend on such things, and there have been sleeper performance car hits like the Starion coupe of the eighties, or the big 3000GT, or the very under-​​the-​​radar hot VR4 versions of the Galant (above). Trouble is, too few have noticed: we’ve all been distracted by the noisy thing with the big wing.

Evolution of the Evo

Thursday, December 15th, 2011

Images: Mitsubishi Press

Evolution is the right word. The look of the Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution has nothing whatsoever to do with latte-​​sipping men in black rollnecks and everything to do with dirty-​​handed blokes in overalls.

This purposeful product started as a porridge, three-​​box Japanese saloon with a wing and got progress­ively more steroidal as its power multi­plied. It has always been as ugly as it is fast, but like a broken nose or a cauli­flower ear its deform­ities have always signalled its inten­tions and been part of its appeal.

The Evo was actually an evolution from the Colt 2000 Turbo (above), whose badge it wore at the beginning of the journey in 1981. The looks have a clear link to the Evo, but the engine is the real bond; this was the first to use the legendary, endlessly-​​tunable 4G63 2-​​litre turbo four which would remain an Evo constant until the intro­duction of the Evo X in 2007. It made around 168bhp here, but eventually would be stretched to over 800bhp. Mirror-​​script lettering on the front spoiler — ‘Turbo 2000’ in this case – urgently needs to make a comeback.

Evo I
Built as the basis of the World Rally Car, and the first to carry the Evo name and number. Arrived in Japan in 1992, making around 240bhp. The II and III were pretty similar (to non-​​Evo geeks, anyway).


Evo anoraks take note: what follows is just a few of our personal highlights, and not an exhaustive history.

Evo V
The Evo IV intro­duced in 1996 was an all-​​new car and the basis of the Evo V and VI, but it was these later cars that started to arrive in Europe in numbers, first from grey importers and, eventually, officially through Mitsu’s importers here. Sparked the Evo-​​Impreza wars that dominated car magazine covers in the late nineties and early noughties.

Evo VII
Another all-​​new car in 2001; it was heavier but kept getting quicker and cleverer. The short-​​lived GTA automatic version – which came with an auto gearbox and could be specified with a luxury leather interior, chrome door handles and without a wing, was a personal lowlight. Deservedly rare.

Evo VIII FQ400
Having resisted importing the Evo for too long, the UK distributor then embraced it a bit too enthu­si­ast­ically with the FQ — or effing quick — series. It was an extraordinary name for a big corpor­ation to give a car, but it was an extraordinary car. It was hard-​​tuned Evo with a warranty that you could order from a showroom; as the name suggests it had 400bhp and could nut out a three-​​second 60mph dash. With 200bhp per litre, very regular servicing was essential.

Evo X
All change, again. This time the Evo gets a bespoke body, its looks defined by fancy designers in Europe but with due deference shown to the past. All change under the bonnet too: emissions regs finally killed the 4G63, but the 4B11 is a worthy replacement and proved robust enough for the loons at Mitsu UK to offer another FQ400. The SST sequential-​​manual gearbox is the other big departure.

Evo XI?
Um, not sure yet. The Evo X will be discon­tinued from March and there’s no clear plan from Mitsu on what will assume the Evo name, but rumours from the Tokyo motor show suggest it will be a long wait and it won’t be turbocharged saloon. Something green seems the best bet, possibly usng the in-​​wheel electric motors Mitsu has been exper­i­menting with for a while. So lots of torque and four wheel-​​drive still…

Lancia Delta S4 Stradale

Wednesday, December 7th, 2011

Ok, so it’s a Lancia Delta. It may have born a striking resemb­lance to its badass cousin the Integrale, but where the everyman Delta was an acceptably inter­esting everyday motor, the S4 sprung out of another universe. And that universe was Group B.

The workaday Delta was a front-​​wheel-​​drive, five-​​seater hatchback, — but the S4 über-​​car was a two-​​seater with its engine slung where the kids would have presumably been. It was constructed around a tubular space frame chassis and incor­porated fully adjustable all-​​independent suspension – beneath light­weight composite bodywork. There were loads of aero aids that increased downforce and the body was pieced together for easy oyster-​​shell like deconstruction.

All four wheels were driven by central and rear diffs, and the 1.8 litre 16V engine, designed by Abarth, employed two different types of forced induction to get rid of that perennial low rev turbo lag. Yes, baby. This was super­charged and turbocharged and by the end of devel­opment packed 500 horses. And this was, remember, in 1985!

200 hundred were supposedly built, of course, for homolog­ation into the fatal and fated formula that was Group B, but the specialists reckon there are now only around 80 in existence of the S4 Stradale. This is why the last one sold at auction, by Bonhams this summer, fetched over £100,000!

Crisis? What Crisis. Get me a Delta S4 NOW!

We heart Matte

Tuesday, December 6th, 2011

Having spent a good proportion of the last few years staring at and thinking about cars, I can finally come out. I have a fetish about matte paintwork.

It might be that the world knows what I am on about, too…it might be that my natural love for the muted can be under­stood by everyone.

There is defin­itely something laddish about the desire to turn your ride into a stealth weapon, but there’s also something appeal­ingly counter­cul­tural about rejecting the buff and the gleam in favour of the that under­stated whisper of badness.

It’s a broad church, too. Matte sometimes looks its best in everything other than black. Let us know what you think…

Defenders of the faith

Monday, September 5th, 2011

When the first real pics of Land Rover DC100 concept were released last week, there were instant catcalls of its betrayal of Land Rover’s core beliefs.

The truth is that sales of the most down-​​home Landy on the market and a mainstay of utility stalwarts like military and agricul­tural clients the world over have been spiralling downward.

With the premium SUV and family wagons market cornered in the Range and the Disco, as well as the Freelander entry level SUV having sold well, the (hugely profitable) Jaguar Land Rover company are looking to update the core.

Sure, it might look like Skoda’s Yeti from the side, and there’s a predictable rounding off, Freelander-​​ish aspect to the general sketch of the concept.

This release is of course just the first stage of a devel­opment that is destined to produce a production replacement for the Defender in 2015, but you can image the sort of thing that will result.

For our money, though, our favourite re-​​imagined offroader of the last few years has been Toyota’s retro hacker the FJ Cruiser (above). The FJ takes a very appealling reference to the original FJ Landcruisers, and updates the aesthetic for today perfectly.

Not sure if the FJ Cruiser has sold as well as the new Defender would need to, but hey. We’re just offering our humble design-​​centred opinion.

What do you think?

Corvette Grand Sport Driven

Thursday, August 18th, 2011

Pics Dom Romney/​Influx

/​/​The Location/​/​

There’s a strange sort of irony in picking up the latest Corvette Grand Sport from the centre of the Industrial revolution’s Eden. Venerable dealer Bauer Millet – who specialise in all sorts of Euro exotica as well as Americana  – are situated under­neath the arches, right in the heart of central Manchester.

The location is the quint­essence of New Britain. Conference centres, swish boutiques and cafés now sit amid the dark Satanic mills, bridges, canals and insti­tu­tional edifices that are the sweat­shops of the digital age.

You’ll still find folk wandering up and down these gentrified streets humming metaphor­ically the theme tune from Corrie. But Manchester feels more European than London these days – and there’s more quietly humming trams about than rumbling V8s.

On the day we drive the Corvette a pall of black smoke rises from somewhere in the city centre. More looting? I try a mental calcu­lation as to whether fibre­glass burns easily.


Video shot for Influx by Tom Dawson


/​/​The Car/​/​

The orginal, 1963 Corvette Grand Sport was the end result of a factory mission to compete and win at classic venues like Sebring and Le Mans – and to add another name to a roster of American victors headed up by Carrol Shelby.

But the project, set into motion by chief engineer Zora Duntov, hadn’t been sanctioned by the GM board and was Kiboshed – but not before a handful of light­weight machines with a 6.2 litre small block V8 and all-​​round disc brakes were produced. All five of the originals are still in existence, each worth millions apiece.

So while a huge amount of energy in the American motor industry is looking toward altern­ative futures, the current Corvette Grand Sport is an echo of the past that resonated with the best of contem­porary tech. But it’s not just the name and the badge that echoes Corvette’s past glories. Genuine research and technology have gone into this flagship of Yankee pride.

There’s electronic launch control with the short throw six speed manual box; there’s variable-​​ratio steering, which allows a mix of sharp –turn-​​ins and straight-​​line stability; there’s a relat­ively unobtrusive electronic handling system that makes the best of available grip – and can of course be switched off easily when you want to cut loose. Corvettes, too, were among the first production cars to offer magnetic selective ride control that assesses road surface condi­tions on the move and adjusts damping accordingly.

Under the hood there’s the most powerful standard Corvette engine that has ever been produced – a 6.2 litre LS3 V8 which is a direct descendent of the small block engine that originally appeared in the 1963 version of the GS. There’s an array of track-​​derived features in this baby, including a high-​​lift cam, and a high flow intake manifold and cylinder heads. The result is a super-​​reliable 437 Horsepower package with 575 NM of torque. GM reckons there’s a whacking 100,000 miles between major services on these engines – but they don’t choose to highlight this claim on the Corvette. With this brand-​​within-​​a-​​brand the marketing is all about performance, heritage and experience.

/​/​The Experience/​/​
When you first encounter the Grand Sport you can feel that there’s something ‘un-​​American’ about it. Not that this is some subversive pinko o a car. The original from 1963 looked and felt as if it were aspiring to a kind of European aesthetic that Shelby and his Cobras downright ignored. On this car there’s something about the light clusters, the positioning of the cooling intakes and the low, road-​​hoovering stance that owes more to the drawings of Pininfarina and Bertone than the boxish brutalism of American muscle.

The type and the nomen­clature obviously keep reminding you of the car’s all-​​American heritage, but it’s a refresh­ingly outward looking, East Coast sort of Americana.

This Corvette is, after all, a relative light­weight contender with a curb weight of a little over 1500KG (only 20KG heavier) Ferrari’s 458. This is mainly to do with that trademark composite shell – and driving over the cobbles of Manchester you can see its wings quivering with the effort.

We’re loving the short throw gearbox (and don’t believe that any ‘Vette should come with flappy paddles, which are available if you so desire). The limited enthu­si­astic driving we were able to do availed us of the right amount of oversteer and grunt through those huge rear wheels.

Bury your boot and it’s pleas­antly torquey and easy to fishtail through the gears – but the package, especially when switched to the more sedate touring mode, makes the car usable, even dignified. Visibility with the top down feels surpris­ingly good and the clutch requires no monster thigh action.

In fact, the whole drive feels very user friendly with satis­fying slush-​​box clunks and fluid engage­ments. The one annoyance is the relat­ively convo­luted stopping and starting sequence, which requires you to select reverse before leaving the car – and to switch off the intrusion sensor you have to reach over to the glove box and flick a switch. Irritating when you’re in and out of the car as we were, but probably less so when involved in day-​​to-​​day use.

/​/​The Verdict/​/​
We’re impressed. The thing about Corvettes is that they represent the sort of Americana that has always looked to Europe for its aesthetic inspir­ation. If you’re after the sort of high-​​octane swagger and design brutalism that charac­terises muscle cars – the Corvette isn’t it. If however, you’re after something that harnesses the glory of big V8 engines and marries that with some impressive tech, then this may be your answer.


Thanks to Mitch @ Bauer Millett

Jaguar: Where Did it all Go Right?

Wednesday, July 13th, 2011

A room-​​service waiter once wheeled a trolley laden with champagne into a hotel room occupied by George Best, in his pomp and his dressing gown. Arranged on the bed was a Miss World contestant and thousands of pounds of casino winnings. “Mr Best,” the waiter famously asked, “where did it all go wrong?”

The waiter probably didn’t look out of the window, but if he had, he’d probably have seen one of George’s Jaguars parked below: it would only have made this poster boy for the raffish, slightly dangerous image Jag once had seem all the more perfect. Like George, Jaguar has seen extremes of fortune, but right now it’s having a hotel-​​room moment. Like George, it’s flush with cash, Jaguar-​​Land Rover having just declared a billion-​​pound – billion-​​pound – post-​​tax profit on sales of ten times that. Like George, it is awash with attractive models; its XF and striking new XJ saloons, the XK coupe, the C-​​X75 eco-​​supercar and the smaller XE coupe-​​convertible that the spy photo­graphers have started snapping (you think these things happen unplanned?)

Yet just two years ago Jaguar had the begging bowl out. Sales ravaged by the recession, it faced having to close one of its three factories and still needing to touch Lord Mandelson for a loan and guarantees worth around £600m just to keep operating. A few famous automotive names didn’t make it through the GFC, and for a while Jaguar looked like it might be one of them.

So, Jaguar, where did it all go right?

Three things saved Jag: good cars, Ian Callum, and the Indians. It had been making good cars for a while; the 2002 revision of the S-​​Type was pretty sensa­tional to drive, and the XJ of 2003 was a revel­ation with its light­weight aluminium construction that made heroes of its new diesels and small, economical petrols.

But God, they were awful to look at, Jaguar having found a design language that worked in the sixties and having mutated it ever since. That XJ was partic­u­larly bad, the lines of William Lyons’ elegant ’68 saloon contorted and stretched around the volumes and hard points and crash require­ments of a modern car.

Ian Callum hadn’t been in his design director job long when that XJ was launched and had little to do with it; he virtually held his nose as he first showed it to me in his studio at Gaydon. Richard Parry-​​Jones, global product supreme for Ford, which owned Jaguar then and an insane driver, was more enthu­si­astic as we drove a prototype at furious speed through torrential rain on the empty mountain roads around his Welsh home. It was terrific to drive: pity so few people found out.

Car designers are like football managers, generally moved on too soon when their plans need time to work through. Callum is an exception. He remembers when Jaguars were edgy and ground-​​breaking rather than retro and deriv­ative, and he’s been left in place long enough to have been responsible for his employers entire line-​​up: a very rare achievement.

And oh, must Jaguar be glad. After years in the doldrums Jaguar’s sales had started brightly in 2008, thanks entirely to the XF, which now looked as good as the old S-​​Type drove. Without the XF and the new XJ Callum had already penned, Tata might not have bought Jaguar and Land Rover from Ford in early 2008 for £1.4bn.

Despite the XF, Jaguar’s 2009 sales slumped 33 per cent. But without them, it might have closed altogether, partic­u­larly if the Tata buy-​​out hadn’t gone through and Ford, desperate to cut its European losses and avoid bankruptcy itself, had been left with two companies that were haemor­rhaging money and just a few months later would have been impossible to offload.

Ian Callum’s reima­gining of Jaguar isn’t solely responsible for its survival. British car enthu­siasts often bemoan the lack of a domestically-​​owned major carmaker, but global­iz­ation makes such concepts less relevant, and as owners go, they don’t get much better than Ratan Tata. He’s a car boss in the Piech or Agnelli mould; eccentric, visionary, maybe a little mad. He has a strong social conscience: he says his goal in business is to lay his head on his pillow each night knowing he has harmed no-​​one, and it was his desire to cut road deaths in India that inspired him to create the Nano, a ‘proper’ car for just £1400.

When the condi­tions Mandelson attempted to impose on a bail-​​out package for Jaguar-​​Land Rover proved too onerous, Tata manned-​​up and doubled-​​down, pumping an estimated billion quid into his British acquis­ition, despite the fact that the Indian mothership was strug­gling too. And he’s had the courage to leave Jaguar to it: insiders report an almost total lack of inter­ference from the new bosses despite what they’ve risked.

So you couldn’t blame Tata for repat­ri­ating the vast profits Jaguar is making as its market has come back to find a sexy, edgy range of cars waiting for it. Except he’s not. Far from closing a factory, JLR is now looking to open an engine plant. It’s hiring 1000 engineers and plans to spend an extra half-​​billion each year on new models. It’s not difficult; good cars that look good will sell, and Tata is prepared to fund them and let Jaguar get on with making them. And the good news on the financial pages is as important as a five-​​star road test result in Autocar.

The former Porsche boss Wendelin Wiedeking said that successful people like to buy cars from a successful company. It has the models and the cash, but with Tata in charge it’s unlikely to chuck it all away like Georgie did.