Grumpy Old Man Sounds Off

 
I learned to drive in 1980.  I learned to drive in cars that were built in the 1970s.  They had no power steering, and when you pressed the brake pedal, you actually had to put in much of the force that pushed the brake pads against the disks.  Low profile tyres were unheard of and you had to brace yourself when cornering to keep from sliding off the vinyl seats.
 
If I drove one of these cars today, I would probably be shocked at the lack of power and grip, but my recollection is of cars with unfiltered steering feedback, and brakes that you could modulate with such finesse that a passenger could not tell exactly when you had started to brake.
 
When I had passed the driving test, my dad explained to me the mysteries of double-declutch and heel-and-toe downshifts.  I practiced these techniques and found that the knowledge that I could easily downshift into almost any gear at any speed improved my confidence.  These things were built into the neural network that is my driving style, and if I get into a car where I can't heel-and-toe, I struggle to drive it at all.
 
I learned to drive in a Maxi, and my first car was an Austin 1100.  This was followed by a Metro - actually four Metros that I ran from 1984 to 2002.  Not the most glamourous of cars, but Austin was always techically innovative, and all of these cars had double-wishbone front suspension.  Nothing else feels right to me.  Obviously I have driven cars with McPherson struts but they never feel as good as cars with wishbones.  
 
Out of curiosity, I had a test drive in a Porsche Boxter a few years ago.  It wasn't what I expected.  All the time I was driving it, I was reminded of my dad's Ford Mondeo.  It was only when I read the brochure later that I found out that it had McPherson strut suspension.  The Metro GTi was a much classier car to drive.
 
So, for as long as I could, I stuck with cars that felt like the cars I learned to drive in.  And all the time I was driving Metros, the world moved on.  Power-steering moved across the full range of cars from the largest to the smallest, and the level of assistance provided increased to the point where steering feedback vanished.  Brake servos made the brake pedal feel increasingly like the accelerator, with long travel and almost no resistance.
 
I moved from Metros to MG ZRs, but even they were 10 or 15 years behind the times.  So when I went out looking for a replacement for my current ZR, I was in for a big shock.  I hate modern cars.  I can't even drive them properly.
 
My heel-and-toe technique relies on the brake pedal providing enough resistance that I can use it as a fulcrum to pivot my foot against when I blip the throttle.  If I try to do that in a modern car, I can't control the braking force and just stand the car on its nose.  But I don't know how to downshift when braking without the heel-and-toe.
 
And the steering on so many cars is just horrible.  It feels like a video game control.  And like a video driving game, I can't feel properly in control of a car like that.
 
The biggest disappointment, I suppose, was the Honda Civic.  I actually wanted to like the Civic.  I like its styling and its interior.  In fact I like everything about the Civic except driving it.  The steering was the main culprit.  It just didn't give me any feel that it was connected to the road.  Having been disappointed by the Civic, I rather lost my sense of direction.  
 
I stopped at a Renault garage and explained my dilemma.  After some consideration, the salesman informed me that there was probably no point in me having a test drive in any of his cars because I would almost certainly hate them all.
 
Next stop was a Peugeot garage. I had a good look around the Peugeots.  They have some interesting styling details, and yet the whole car gives the impression of being a congealed blob (apologies to any Peogeot owners - you won't be the only ones I offend).  I can't imagine being happy to see that on my drive.  The steering on the Peugeots was better than the Civic, but the brake pedal was much worse.  I really couldn't drive those cars at all.
 
I was getting desparate at this point and decided to stop at the next dealership I came to.  So I tried a Ford Focus.  In both steering and brake feel, the Focus was somewhere between the Civic and the Peugeot.  The word "mediocre" comes to mind.  There is a strip of chrome above the radiator grille on the latest Focus which seems somehow to highlight just how dull a design it is.
 
I saw all this coming years ago.  I forsaw a future in which it would not be possible to buy an inspiring little hatchback.  And so, as a defence against that future, I bought my Lotus.  Even if I can never find a good everyday car, I will always have the Lotus to remind me what proper driving feels like.
 
Since I've mentioned the Lotus, I'll digress a bit.  When Lotus announced their new range of cars, I was both excited and saddened.  Excited for the future of the company, and saddened that never again would I be able to afford one of their cars.  I think it was inevitable.  As far as Lotus are concerned, I'm a terrible customer.  I bought my one and only car from them almost 12 years ago, will never sell it, and will probably never buy another.  They can't make a living from people like me, so they have had to go where the money is.
 
I joined the Official Lotus Club to get discounts on insurance and track-days and they send me a magazine every now and then to make me feel wanted.  With the re-branding excercise, the magazine has changed its style.
 
The latest issue arrived in a plain brown package, and features young women wearing translucent bathing costumes and underwear draped over one of the new Lotus models.  I have studied these photographs closely to try to determine whether they count as pornography or art.  I haven't made my mind up yet.  But leaving that question aside, and also leaving aside the question of whether I want photographs of semi-naked women delivered to my house in plain brown packaging, the question that really has me bothered is why does a car manufacturer think that I want that?  Who do they think I am?  Hugh Heffner?
 
What are they trying to say with this marketing approach?  "Buy one of our cars and 22 year-old women will shed most of their clothing and drape themselves over your car"?  Or more likley "Unless you are rich enough to surround yourself with 22 year-old women, you will never be able to afford this car".
 
I don't get it.  What ever they think it means, it seems to be telling me that Lotus is not looking for custom from people like me.
 
Back to my current car hunt.
 
We have been told repeatedly that the free market will provide everything you want at a price you can afford.  Any yet there doesn't seem to be a single car manufacturer who recognises that some people who are not rich actually enjoy the physical process of driving.  Some people want to be able to feel the road through the steering wheel, or want the brake pedal to have enough resistance that they can control the brakes to a fine degree, and maybe even heel-and-toe.
 
Well, maybe there is still one.  Next Saturday I get my official Top Gear petrolhead accreditation, along with an Alfa 147.  It's not perfect, but I can drive it, there is nothing about it that I hate, and I will be happy to see it parked on my drive.