Posts Tagged ‘Toyota’

Signs of the Times

Wednesday, February 10th, 2010

There’s a good reason why DCI Gene Hunt drives the cars he does in Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes. Few things scream seventies louder than a golden-​​brown Mark III Ford Cortina, or eighties louder than a red Audi Quattro. Iconic, instantly-​​recognizable cars like this are easy cultural shorthand for their era. Stick one on screen and your eye is immedi­ately drawn to it. And if you make the car the star, maybe the TV company has to spend a little bit less on props and street scenes to make its drama feel properly period.

Gene Hunt's Mk 3 Cortina grounded Life on Mars on period

Iconic cars represent their era, but they reflect it too. Much as we’d like the car to exist in a bubble, unaffected by the trends and crises of the outside world, it just can’t. The car shapes the world: along with the computer and indus­tri­alized warfare, the car was one of the biggest influ­ences on the last century. Our lifestyles and our physical envir­onment are organized around it, but it influ­ences the culture too. The freedom offered by the internal combustion engine, whether fitted to a car or a motorbike, has energized music, art, liter­ature and whole youth movements.

The 1959 Caddy was designed in response to Sputnik's triumph

And in turn, the cars we drive are influ­enced by their times in exactly the same way as the clothes we wear and the music we listen to. Think of a fifties American car, and what do you see? A tail fin. What does a tail fin represent? The jet age: a period of intense techno­lo­gical and economic optimism – in America at least – in which speed and power were so venerated, and advancing so fast, that the cars started to look like planes, and the planes turned into the rockets that would take us into space. Car design of the period reflects that so perfectly that if you show someone a tailfin now, they’ll smell a drive-​​thru hotdog and hear a Chuck Berry record.

Look at the work of designers like Harley Earl at General Motors and Virgil Exner at Chrysler: one sounds like a rock’n’roller, the other like a character from a period sci-​​fi puppet show, but together they gave us some of the most exuberant car design ever seen, culmin­ating in Earl’s ’59 Cadillac Eldorado, his final and most outrageous work. And what did we get in austere fifties Britain? A steady diet of grim, grey, porridge saloons, with the apologetically-​​befinned Ford Anglia 105E only arriving in the same year they launched – almost literally – that Cadillac. Case closed.

Peter Sellars's mini exemplified sixties automotive style.

Same applies in the sixties. More than the Lamborghini Miura or the Jaguar E-​​type, I’d argue that the original Mini and Fiat 500 are the iconic cars of that decade: partly because their access­ib­ility put millions more on wheels, but also because they reflect the class­lessness of the time; a Mini might have been your first car, but the Beatles and Peter Sellers drove them too.

Seventies? Harder to identify an icon, but that just proves the point. Beset by reces­sions and oil crises, the car industry lacked the confidence it had in the previous two decades, and it shows in the cars it produced; there were some great supercars like the awesome, angular Countach, but from makers which lurched from owner to official receiver and often lacked the cash to put the wheels on. There was a definite seventies look – Hunt’s Cortina being the perfect European example – but few stand-​​out cars. Frightened by the price of petrol and the threat of the sack, people wanted reliab­ility and afford­ab­ility in everything; this was the quartz watch decade. In cars, in the US, this mood killed the big-​​block V8 engine. In Europe and Japan, it spawned the hatchback; VW launched the Golf, and Toyota’s Corolla broke out of Japan and began its ascent to become the world’s best-​​selling model.

The aggressively proportioned Countach reflected the eighties' power-focused concerns

Things were better in the eighties: greed was good, and made near-​​200mph supercars like the Ferrari F40 and Porsche 959 both socially acceptable and econom­ically viable. The Quattro and hot hatches made a little of that mojo available to those not in receipt of a Gordon Gecko-​​sized bonus.

Nineties and noughties? Maybe we’re still too close to spot the real icons, and what they say about the times. The nineties produced arguably the greatest car ever made in the McLaren F1, but reces­sions and economic crises in Asia and Latin America brought the uncer­tainty back: for all its incan­descent performance, only 71 road-​​going F1s were sold.

Autocar magazine’s readers have just voted the current Range Rover the car of the noughties, but I’d disagree; by the time the decade ended the zeitgeist had turned so decis­ively against big SUVs that – for all its ability – I think it gets disqual­ified. Instead, I’d nominate the Prius. As a hybrid in a unique bodyshell, not only is it arguably green, but it’s obviously, visually green. That’s why diCaprio and Diaz are always seen in theirs. It tells other people you’re doing your bit, even though you’re still driving a car and probably haven’t altered the rest of your lifestyle much.

How noughties is that? Maybe, thirty years hence, when the BBC makes a retro cop-​​drama set in 2009, the lead character PC PC will drive a Prius, but decline to get into car chases because they’re ‘just not sustainable’.

Global recalls and eco piety – the Prius is the auto icon of the noughties.

The Beauty of Utility

Monday, December 21st, 2009

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At the first hint of falling snow, thoughts turn to utility as the prime motivator of automotive choice. Of course the SUV genre has had some killer bad press over the last couple of years. They don’t make sense for most of the year, but in these days of proper winters, they certainly have their place. And right now, with food and gifts to shop, kids to transport to seasonal festivity: which one of us wouldn’t want a big lump of Iron driven at all four corners in our driveway?

Here are our three faves.

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As well as the classic Volvo take on utility as encap­su­lated in the Volvo 445 Duett (top) there a host of other early practical vehicles and offroaders that float our aesthetic as well as shed-​​haunting, daddish sensib­il­ities. The Landcruiser FJ 40 (above, is an obviously delectable classic – but for us, even the tarted-​​up version of the humble and perennial Landrover Defender (below) is more than a little worthy of desire.

If Rudolph ever did run out of steam, then surely Santa would choose on the these stylishly workaday whips for his yuletide deliveries.

Landy

Toyota FT-86: The Scooby Counterpunch

Tuesday, November 3rd, 2009

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No sooner had Toyota announced the advent of the long-​​awaited FT-​​86 supercar, than the digital rumour mill had begun to grind out the prepos­terous idea that that Subaru would also be offering a version of this prodigal child –  and a bigger, badder, faster version to boot.

According to various sources out there on the WWW, it seems that a turbocharged, 4WD version of the FT86 with the scooby magic has been confirmed as the Subaru A 216.

It has been known for a while that the two companies have been collab­or­ating on the devel­opment of the the new model, but sources close to the industry have revealed finally that there will be clear water between the Toyota badged manifest­ation of the car and that bearing Subaru’s five stars.

As well as different model codings, the Subaru version will be driven by a 2-​​litre turbo, probably in the shape of an evolution of the lump that powers the Impreza 2.0 GT. Look out, also, for the inevitable STi version someowhere down the line. The 216’s body will be fatter, wider and longer, and of course the extra drive train metalwork will inevitably add a substantial bit of weight.

Prices haven’t as yet been released, but we reckon it would make sense for the scooby to sit somewhere around the £60K mark, broadly in line with the Nissan’s delectable GT-​​R.

Thanks to 7Tune for the scout.

LA LA Landcruiser

Tuesday, May 26th, 2009

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Hitting the exact spot when Central California becomes Southern California south beyond Point Conception, you enter a completely different world. Something about the self-​​conscious, under­stated coolness of San Francisco morphs into almost an exhib­i­tionist way of being.

All of a sudden the sun gets hotter, the cars get louder and the highways become a physical presence, like the bulging veins in a gym-queen’s forearms. It is here in LA’s endless sprawl where the car revels in its reign as king.

Malibu is one of the obvious first stops as you the gravit­a­tional pull of the megalo­polis begins to take hold down the Pacific Coast Highway.

Seedbed of modern surf culture (the left-​​field, anti-​​establishment kind as typified by Miki Dora), Malibu is the most famous right hand point­break in the world.

Situated just down the road from the Hollywood Hills and in full view of PCH, every time a summertime south swell hits the point, there are hundreds of surfers hustling to get their slice of the Malibu dream.

The place is a post-​​modern mish mash of old dudes in their sixties, tow-​​headed groms, retro stylists in the Entertainment industry and surfing moms. It’s a world in microcosm, California surf distilled.

Every now and then an inter­esting surf wagon pulls up to the point. Though it sometimes feels like it, not every American surfer has bought into Honda’s hugely successful lifestyle vehicle, the Element.
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interior

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The most inter­esting wagon on the point this morning was undoubtedly Alain Briere’s immaculate 1972 Toyota Landcruiser (pictured above). With over three hundred thousand miles on the clock, original paintwork, a V6 petrol engine and the very same eight track stereo machine it came out of the factory with, it’s hard to believe this is a daily used vehicle pushing forty years old.

Forget the Toyota Prius. That’s what I call sustainable motoring.

Below is the trailer for the documentary/​surf movie One California Day. It seems to sum up the vibe here in California about as well as it is possible to do.

YouTube Preview Image

Japanissimo!

Wednesday, March 25th, 2009

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Japan’s final victory in its long campaign to dominate the global car industry only came last year. General Motors had been the world’s biggest carmaker for 75 years, and last year celeb­rated its centenary. Toyota’s birthday gift to the General was to steal his long-​​held, long-​​cherished number-​​one slot. Japan overtook Germany as the world’s biggest car exporter back in ’74, and the US as the world’s biggest carmaker in 1980, but it took until 2008 for a Japanese carmaker to become the biggest in the world.

And when it finally came, it was a very Japanese victory. There was no corporate crowing. Toyota’s bosses wouldn’t discuss it; not even a press release was issued. Maybe they’d foreseen the cataclysmic sales slump that has since hit every major carmaker, Toyota included, and decided that making a big noise about numbers would be a bad idea.

But the slump won’t threaten Toyota’s number one position. And what do you notice about those two other red-​​letter dates in Japan’s automotive history? Each follows a major global economic crisis, namely the oil panics of ’73 and ’79. In each case Japan’s car industry was hit hard. But in each case, as the world’s economy rebounded, chastened car buyers wanted more of the small, reliable, economical and affordable cars the Japanese build so brilliantly. You can count on the same thing happening again.

Honda, First International Automaker To Build A Car In America

So where did it all go right for Japan? As a global car super­power, it was a very late starter. In the 1920s and ‘30s, as the US and European carmakers were bringing motoring to the masses and building fabulous Bugattis and Duesenbergs, the Japanese government classed anything with four wheels and an engine as a munition, and controlled what was built. So the first Japanese car firms – Mitsubishi, Isuzu, Mazda and Toyota – mostly built grim military trucks.

But the government also passed an act which made it almost impossible for foreign carmakers to continue to operate in Japan. Ford and GM estab­lished themselves in Europe before the war and still dominate. They also controlled virtually all of Japan’s car production until the mid-‘30s, and might still do if they hadn’t been booted out.

The Americans might have lost another oppor­tunity to stifle Japan’s nascent car industry during the war, when a massive bombing mission on Toyota’s main factory was called off after the A-​​bombs were dropped and Japan capit­u­lated. Not that Toyota and its rivals then had it easy; in the bleak post-​​war years they were reduced to making pots and pans to keep their factories open.

But the Americans helped out again, twice. First, while still controlling Japan they banned car production. So the Japanese concen­trated on building cheap, efficient motor­bikes, which found an instant, vast and desperate global market. By 1960, Japan was the biggest bike maker in the world, and firms like Honda and Suzuki got their start. Then the Korean War brought US money flowing into Japan, creating demand for military trucks, reopening the car factories and super­charging the Japanese economy.

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But the real inflection point came in 1955. The Japanese government again stepped in, but this time with a positive suggestion. It proposed a ‘people’s car’; something small, light and cheap that cash-​​strapped post-​​war car buyers could reasonably aspire to, with tax breaks to encourage firms to build them and buyers to buy them. It was the birth of the ‘kei-​​car’: the tiny, distinctive city transport still popular in Japan today. But more import­antly it brilliantly foresaw the kind of car the world would want in two decades’ time, and it wasn’t the gross-​​out, gas-​​guzzling, wings’n’fins monstros­ities that Detroit was producing.

Japan’s small-​​car expertise is the single most important reason for its success. But the Japanese also pushed hard to export them or – better – make them overseas, and built them with an efficiency and quality never seen before. Taiichi Ohno rose from the factory floor to create the fabled Toyota Production System; an obsessive-compulsive’s guide to carmaking now studied in business schools around the world, complete with its own language and the reason Toyotas have won die-​​hard loyalty for their utter depend­ab­ility. “If you want to go into the Outback, take a Land Rover,” runs an old Australian saying. “But if you want to come back, take a Land Cruiser.”

Japan’s reputation as a purveyor of passionless white-​​good-​​on-​​wheels is undeserved. True, their engineers’ passion is directed more towards faultless build quality than naked dynamism, but that’s hardly a bad thing. But this is also a car industry that got into Formula One and world rallying in the ‘60s, as soon as it could afford to. Honda’s first car was a sports car, and Nissan-Datsun’s 240Z one of the seminal sports cars of the ‘60s and ‘70s.

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But it wasn’t until 1989 that the Japanese really started to cut loose, launching the Mazda MX-​​5, which would become the world’s best-​​selling sports car, and the Lexus brand, which showed the Japanese could do luxury as well as – or better than – the Europeans. In 1990 came the incom­parable Honda NSX, which married Ferrari looks and responses to Corolla reliab­ility and running costs. And from ’92, Subaru and Mitsubishi put increas­ingly absurd amounts of power into the road-​​going saloon versions of their world rally cars.

All of these cars, and others, have fanatical followings at home and abroad, but it’s still hard to get excited about any aspect of a Toyota Avensis. Our feelings about Japanese cars run from utter indif­ference to total obsession. That won’t change. Right now, the Japanese car makers are hard at work on the plug-​​in hybrid, fuel-​​cell and battery-​​electric cars we’ll all be desperate for in a decade. Like those first kei-​​cars half a century ago, they won’t be exciting, but they’ll be ready when the world needs them.

And at the other end of the scale, there’s the new Nissan GT-​​R. It exceeds even icons like the NSX with its towering, staggering performance and intellect. But it differs from most of the stand-​​out Japanese cars of the past in being distinct­ively, self-​​confidently Japanese; its styling inspired by the giant Gundam robots of manga rather than the work of the famous European car design houses. Consider it a gift from the Japanese car industry to itself. And expect more of the same.

By Ben Oliver

If you need Japanese import insurance then try Adrian Flux, call 0800 089 0050.