Posts Tagged ‘Motoring’
VW Golf GTI 2-litre TSI 210
Posted by: Gadget Boy in Technology on September 20th, 2009
The original hot hatch has been given a nifty 21st-century makeover
The Golf GTi was the original hot hatch. It was so nippy and streetwise, it put the glottal stop in hot. It was, in fact, an 'ot 'atch. Fittingly, it first arrived in 1976, the 'ottest summer we've known. Thirty-three years and almost two million GTIs later, the latest version is a more mature proposition. Not grown-up exactly, but a tad more approachable, like a tasty geezer who's dropped the permanent sneer.
VW is calling this sixth version of the car "iconic", which may sound like self-bigging-up but is hardly an idle boast. The GTI does possess a significant cultural cachet. It is the suburban dream machine in the shape of a hatchback, a curiously English piece of iconography, hard to ignore without being attention-seeking. 'Ot but not OTT. One of the charms of the GTI is that it has never looked very special. It's a Golf, after all, perhaps VW's most functional car, but to the aficionado, the beady-eyed youth who longs to race it to the car wash, it is a fantasy assembled in a factory. One bloke with whom I conducted a bit of south London business stared at the car with close to religious reverence and said in an awed hush, "Is that the new one?" while a group of local lads practically swooned as I drove by, their faces engraved with consumer yearning. And at more than 22 grand, in the middle of a credit crunch, that's probably about as close as they're going to get to a GTI.
What are they missing? It's comfortable rather than luxurious. The interior is devoid of flashy gimmickry. The dashboard's sensible and clear. There is no ergonomic awkwardness. Everything comes down to the drive. And pretty much everything in the drive comes down to the gearbox. It positively compels you to accelerate. It is the opposite of a traffic-calming device. Everything short of maximising the revs and then shifting up seems like an appalling mishandling of the car and its gearbox; a sort of rudeness verging on abuse.
OK, the fuel economy is improved and the carbon emissions are reduced, but just look at that 100-yard stretch of open road in front. It would require Zen-like restraint and about 18 speed bumps not to want to reach the rear bumper of the car ahead in as short a time as possible. Even for someone deep into his fifth decade, this is a car that mounts a daunting challenge to the concept of patience. It's frightening to think what a 20-year-old who's just split up from his girlfriend might do with his hand on that gear stick.
But then, as I say, the price should prove a disincentive to salivating legions of boy racers. Better to leave it to their salivating fathers.
Commander of the fleet
Posted by: Gadget Boy in Technology on September 12th, 2009
Elegant yet affordable, the Insignia deserves to be middle England's favourite, says Martin Love
Vauxhall Insignia Tourer
£19,658
Miles per gallon: 48.7
CO2 per KM: 154 GRAMS
Good for: Bad packers
Bad for: Backpackers
A busy junction in south London. Rush hour, and a rain-slicked road. The driver to my right misreads the lights and lurches out into the traffic, clipping a cyclist as he does so. The bike's front wheel crumples and the rider flips on to the bonnet, slides straight across and, as if I am witnessing a stunt, ends up standing, or rather wobbling, on the other side of the car. He seems fine, though clearly a little stirred and shaken. But then one of those unexpected, heartwarming moments. The driver, beside himself with anxiety, leaps out of his car, rushes to the cyclist and without a pause sweeps him into his arms in an enormous hug ... We all feel much better.
My light changes and I drive off, sending up a silent prayer that it wasn't me who'd up-ended the cyclist. Apart from anything it would have been a shame to put a dent in the new Vauxhall Insignia I'm driving. It's only got 600 miles on the clock. The Insignia was launched amid much fanfare earlier this year as a replacement for the Vectra - a perfectly serviceable car that deserved a better reputation. But where the Vectra struggled to win plaudits, the new Insignia has been showered with awards.
And now the estate version has been rolled out. GM has called it a "sports tourer" to give it a lifestyle dimension, but it is quite clearly an estate. Open the boot and a yawning chasm greets you. This is why people buy estates - and the Insignia "estate" has nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, with its sweeping lines, creased panels and stacked lights, you could make a case for the estate being more of a looker than the saloon. The model I tested came with a "power-operated tailgate" which means that you don't have to slam the lid; it closes under its own steam at the press of a button. It's the kind of luxury you start the week snorting at, and end up wondering how you'll ever manage without. If you want, and I can't really see why you would, you can legally drive with the hatch wide open, because there's an extra set of rear lights in the boot ...
Much has been made of the mass-market, middle-of-the-road credentials of the Insignia. And, yes, on any given morning, the middle lanes of middle England will be clogged with thousands of harassed sales reps. But clearly today's Mondeo men have high standards: there's nothing tacky or cheap about the interior. The touch-points all have a warm, rubbery feel to them, the seats are comfortable and satisfyingly solid. In all, and this shows the ambition of Vauxhall, the Insignia looks like a cut-price version of Audi's all-conquering A6.
The Sports Tourer is a well-considered offering from a maker at the top of its manufacturing game. So it is a bitter irony that Vauxhall is at the same time floundering in the waves of financial insecurity. Last year, GM sold more than 8m cars and trucks in 140 countries around the world; this year it has already sold more than 1m cars in China alone. Four of its models are among the top 10 bestselling cars in the UK (the Corsa, Astra, Zafira and Vectra). And the Insignia deserves to be on that list, too.
British steam car boils 100-year-old record
Posted by: Gadget Boy in Technology on August 26th, 2009
A century old record has been broken after Inspiration, a twin-finned car that looks like a prop from Thunderbirds, achieved an average speed of 139.84mph on two runs over a measured mile, at Edwards Air Force Base, California. That may not sound fast when a car has already broken the sound barrier, but this was a steam car, and the record for this type of machine was set in 1906, at an average of 127.7mph.
The British car, with British born driver Charles Burnet III at the wheel, reached a maximum of 151.085mph, a speed greater than the 145.6mph recorded in 1985 by Steamin' Demon, a car designed by Jim Crank of California and driven by Richard Barber along the Bonneville Salt Flats. Unfortunately, a door flew open on "Steamin' Demon", a fire started and the car was unable to make the return run. The Federation Internationale d'Automobiles (FIA), who officially record any record runs, requires cars to run in both directions over a measured mile to cancel out advantages of tail winds in one direction.
"It was absolutely fantastic," said Charles Burnett III. "The car really did handle beautifully. What we've achieved today is a true testament to British engineering, good teamwork and perseverance."
A number of minor problems, and the intense heat at Edwards, have held the car back from the record for the last fortnight. But patience finally paid off.
Inspiration is a three tonne construction of carbon composite and aluminium bodywork, space-frame chassis and 300hp twin-stage steam turbines. Painted British Racing Green, the car sounds like a jet fighter and represents the hopes, invention and engineering skills of a team established 10 years ago in Lymington, Hampshire under the patronage of Lord Montagu of Beaulieu.
Design expertise has come from Students at the University of Southampton as well as from Welsh engineer Glynne Bowsher, who previously worked on Thrust SSC, the jet-powered car that broke sound barrier in October 1997, and, at 763mph, holds the world land speed record.
The BSCC car's boilers can produce steam at a rate fast enough to make 23 cups of tea a second – an enjoyably British fact – and have proved able to power Inspiration into the record books. The aim of the venture has not been for pure speed, nor high-speed tea-making, but to demonstrate to young engineers alternative ways of using clean burning fuels and environmentally-friendly technologies to young British engineers. Although using LPG fuel to turn water into superheated steam, Inspiration trails a cloud of pure water vapour in its compelling wake.
But it's unlikely a range of high-speed steam cars will be available at your local showroom any time soon. Inspiration took 2.5 miles to reach its record speed, and two miles to stop with a parachute. That would certainly get fellow road users hot under the collar, and very possibly, steaming.
Dylan may lend his voice to GPS system
Posted by: Ed Pilkington in Technology on August 25th, 2009
Legendary American singer Bob Dylan confirms he is in negotiations to become the latest celebrity to be satnaved
Bob Dylan has spent the better part of the past 40 years on the road, hawking his music around America and abroad seemingly without a pause. So it is perhaps fitting that he is considering lending his extraordinary voice to a GPS navigation system.
The usually impenetrable singer-songwriter revealed on his BBC Radio 6 show that he is in negotiations to become the latest celebrity, after Kim Cattrall and Homer Simpson, to be satnaved. "I am talking to a couple of car companies about being the voice of their GPS system," he said.
The move would finally solve the existential doubts that Dylan himself identified in his song Like a Rolling Stone: "How does it feel. To be on your own. With no direction home." Answer: It feels fine, you just switch on the gadget.
However, when he explained to BBC listeners what it would mean, he put it in much less poetic terms: "I think it would be good if you are looking for directions and hear my voice saying something like: 'Left at the next street, no a right — you know what? Just go straight'."
Dylan is famous for his exotic singing voice. The American writer Joyce Carol Oates said it was "as if sandpaper could sing".
His talking voice is even more peculiar. If you didn't know it was Bob Dylan speaking on the BBC, you would assume it was an actor giving an extremely bad imitation of Bob Dylan.
He rolls his Rs, places the emphasis in odd places, and spits out the letters G, P and S as though they were the cannon balls that fly in Blowin' In The Wind.
To hear him barking out orders at the steering wheel might be highly distracting, a hazard even. Dylan also flagged up another potential problem, saying he probably was unwise to get involved "because whichever way I go I always end up at one place — Lonely Avenue."
Citroën C3 Picasso 1.6HDI 110HP DPFS
Posted by: Gadget Boy in Technology on August 21st, 2009
Not exactly handsome or sleek, but it's sort of sexy, says Andrew Anthony
The great thing about MPVs, or multipurpose vehicles, is their versatility. They can do anything. Not only do they go forwards and backwards, they can also be used for all manner of other needs. That's the theory or sales pitch, anyway. But in reality, what purpose do MPVs serve? Do owners really spend their time ferrying their large families to their second homes, or are MPVs more often bought with the hopeful expectation that a crowded lifestyle comes, like the CD player, with the car?
For all its supposedly utilitarian appeal, an MPV can prove a chastening prospect to live up to. Instead of representing the rich diversity of a busy life, such a spacious car is easily transformed into a symbol of mundane emptiness. It's a syndrome we might call the impracticality of practicality. Or if that's too impractical, how about the futility of utility? Whichever, this is where the mini-MPV comes in handy. Smaller than a standard MPV, and therefore with less space and time to fill, it manages to suggest a host of activities without quite demanding them.
The C3 Picasso is a mini-MPV. What's more, it's a mini-MPV that tries hard not to look characteristic. Usually MPVs seem to pride themselves on their sameness. But the Picasso does away with the typical curved body shape and goes for something more cuboid, if not, despite the eponym, cubist. Whether this novelty achieves the quirkiness Citroën intends or is instead vaguely reminiscent of a hearse is, perhaps, a matter of individual taste.
Elsewhere, there are various other signifiers of quirk, including jazzy wheels and a chunky front that looks as if it was designed to appeal to a toddler – in an age of child power, such a detail could prove the deciding factor in the showroom. Naturally the back seats can be removed to enable the transportation of, say, a coffin. But that's your funeral. I opted to drive it with the seats all present and, in terms of performance, I might as well have gone with the sarcophagus.
It's a car that can shift things, but it's not a car that shifts. The 1.6HDi 110hp is the top of, and least slow, in the range. However, in terms of speed, it's one of the multipurposes in which it lacks purpose. No matter, because everything from the van-like position of the front seats to the excellent visibility points to a vehicle that wants to savour the surroundings rather than rush past them.
It's a compliment that deserves repaying. For the Picasso is a car that demands a second look. Like its namesake, it isn't handsome or sleek, but it's sort of sexy, in its own unconventional fashion. If it serves no other purpose than to be slightly unlike the rest, then it's in keeping with a noble Gallic tradition. Vive la différence!
Are manuals heading for extinction?
Posted by: Gadget Boy in Technology on August 19th, 2009
As products become easier to use we are in danger of losing our understanding of how they work – and how to fix them
When you give an expensive toy to a child it is not unusual to find that they are more interested in the packaging than the gadget inside.
This can be quite depressing, except if they are interested in one part of the packaging – the instruction manual. Then you feel a huge surge of pride: here is a child of discernment, a child that takes the time to find out who made this toy, how it works and what all the buttons do. A child who realises that instruction manuals are important.
Of course such behaviour is very rare, even in adults. These days no one reads instruction manuals, and if they do it is taken as proof that the particular technological gadget – whether it is a lawnmower, mobile phone or car – is badly designed.
It was not always so: in the early 20th century, new technology came into the domestic sphere for the first time in the form of radios, cars, washing machines, televisions and cameras.
It was claimed that each of these products would revolutionise family life and they came with instruction manuals that reflected that optimism. Camera manuals were glamorous brochures, offering to turn you into a star of your family, giving advice on how to take pictures, and telling you how to repair the camera.
By consulting the manual of your camera, washing machine or car, you could be sure you were as much part of culture as someone who uses Twitter these days.
Driving force
In the 1950s John Haynes realised that car manuals were not detailed enough to satisfy the public, so he founded a company publishing books with even more information than the manufacturers would divulge. They were so popular he made a fortune and helped create the cultural phenomenon of DIY. In those days, no home was complete without a garage, a tool set and a drill.
As products were distributed across the globe, companies were faced with the dilemma of how to write instruction manuals for different cultures. Translation was the obvious answer, but this led to enormously large instruction manuals.
Ikea chose to create a new global language based on pictures and icons. The problem was that this reduced communication between manufacturers and the public to a very basic level. It left little room for detail or tips on care and repair.
The pictorial language has also turned out not to be completely global; in some cultures stick figures are unacceptable, especially if they are seen pointing to things. In some countries only males are allowed to be depicted; in others it is imperative that both sexes should be represented as taking an equal part.
Other factors have eroded the content of the instruction manual. In an age when a TV would be designed to last 10-15 years, it made sense to accompany it with instructions on how to repair it.
However, with the increasing pace of change and increasingly complex technologies in our lives, we have demanded simpler ways of managing engineering. Now there is virtually no advice on how to repair products or how look after them because it is assumed that no one has the least interest in doing so, or because the machine has not been designed to be repaired in the first place.
The fact that we have lost our enthusiasm for repairing things at exactly the same time that global consumerism is at its height is hardly surprising. This is not a commercial conspiracy: it is a reflection of our culture, so much so that the government feels able to spend public money to encourage us to scrap our old cars and buy new ones.
We now live in an age in which we feel that technology should be intuitive, which relegates instruction manuals to literature for the stupid.
In truth, most modern instruction manuals are not worth reading in any case, since they have turned into catalogues of health and safety advice, and instructions on how to dispose of the product once it breaks. We are not expected to spend much time thinking about who made it and how.
Instead, there is inevitably a "quick start" guide which is supposed to get us up and running fast. We are not encouraged to ask how a product works, or figure out how to look after it – and whatever you do don't open the back, as it will invalidate the warranty.
We now live in a world in which curiosity and care are discouraged, and in which the instruction manual is slowly but inevitably becoming extinct.
Shiny future
Many people think this process is inevitable, and point to the products made by companies such as Apple as being the future. Apple makes machines that don't need instruction manuals because they "just work", and because they are well engineered their owners have time to develop a relationship with the technology. Online user forums and software upgrades now take the roles of repair and troubleshooting once covered by a proper instruction manual.
Although I can see the beauty of this, and admire well-engineered machines, I can't help but feel that we are heading in the wrong direction. If instruction manuals reflect society's attitude to technology then what it says is that technology should be like a Victorian child – seen but not heard, forever in the background.
No one would suggest doing that to literature, music, or even cooking. We are constantly being urged to learn more about these things, since they define our culture. Technology is no less part of our culture, but unlike musical instruments the number of practitioners is going down. The decline of the instruction manual reflects this.
The answer is perhaps a Victorian solution to a Victorian problem. In the 19th century there was a campaign to give everyone the opportunity to take part in the culture of literacy by establishing public libraries in every town and every village. This was immensely successful.
I think we should do the same for technology. Let's establish public workshops so everyone has the chance to investigate, repair and more deeply appreciate their mobile phone or any other of the growing family of machines in our lives.
Mark Miodownik is an engineer from King's College London. How to Write an Instruction Manual is on BBC Radio 4 on Friday 21 August at 11am
Audi TTS Coupé TFSI S tronic
Posted by: Gadget Boy in Technology on August 15th, 2009
A great little mover... but what's with the new orange colour?
Can a car be too orange? This is not just an idle consumer-choice question, along the lines of whether or not a rug comes in burgundy. Rather, it is a philosophical inquiry that seeks to determine the chromatic limits of human desire in relation to the automobile. Possibly.
Let me explain. Fans of Pulp Fiction will no doubt recall the scene in which Vincent Vega, played by John Travolta, suggests that if a pig had more personality, then Jules (Samuel L Jackson) would no longer consider it a filthy animal. To which Jules replies, "That would have to be one mutha****ing charming pig."
By the same principle, only reversed, such is the simple beauty and style of the Audi TTS that it would take one mutha****ing charmless colour to render it anything less than lovely. And that colour is "solar orange", a shade of such unremitting kitschness that it almost moved me to place a pair of sunglasses on top of the pair I was already wearing. In any case, I had to abandon the attempt to look cool. The best pose I could hope to strike against that eye-aching hue of an exterior was a sort of look-at-me irony. Which is ironic, because one of the great strengths of the TT has always been its understated classicism. In a marketplace full of pushy, gauche sports cars, it's retained a winning subtlety. Until now.
The TTS Coupé TFSI is part of the second generation of TTs, which are basically lighter, faster and more powerful. And in this case, unfortunately, also more orange. Even the interior has orange leather strips which look as if they've been modelled on early 70s caravan furnishings. It may seem churlish to obsess over the colour, but there's little else to think about because, with the s-tronic direct shift gear system (basically a manual gearbox with automatic control), a large part of the decision-making process is taken, literally, out of your hands.
In fact, given that this is the most pumped-up TT so far, it's a remarkably smooth, untroubled ride. So much so that it never quite feels like being in a sports car. Even though the acceleration borders on the savage, the experience lacks the sensation and drama of other speed machines such as the Porsche Cayman. There is something contained, dare I say repressed, about this latest feat of German engineering. The top speed is electronically restricted to 155mph (unlikely to prove a frustration on the M25), but it's a precaution that is perhaps emblematic of a car that is so thoroughly sensible in its sportiness that its most startling feature is its colour. Vorsprung durch Technik is a great tagline, but should Audi ever tire of it, they could always try, "The future is not orange."
Resistance is futile
Posted by: Gadget Boy in Technology on July 25th, 2009
Volvo's new C30 is the most aerodynamic in its class. Martin Love tests a smooth operator
VOLVO C30 1.6D Drive S
£15,745
Miles per gallon: 64.2
CO2 per KM: 115 GRAMS
Good for: Cross winds
Bad for: Cross drivers
When applied to politicians, former boyfriends or treacherous footpaths, the adjective "slippery" is a word loaded with negative connotations. When used about a car, however, it is praise indeed. And Volvo's new C30 DRIVe is the slipperiest car in its class. It's the ultimate draught dodger! By "slipperiness" manufacturers mean the ability a car has to slide through the air.
You might think there isn't much to a bit of air. But a wall of air presents a considerable obstacle to the forward movement of a car, and the faster you go the more force is required to break through that wall. Next time you are driving, put your hand out the window, palm facing forwards, and you'll soon see just how much backward force the wind creates. Now turn your hand palm down, fingers forward so you are cutting through the wind. If you want, you can now move your hand up and down like a dolphin... or maybe not. The point is that by increasing the aerodynamic shape of a car, makers can dramatically reduce the amount of energy wasted in forcing a vehicle through the air. Ergo, greater fuel economy, greater efficiency and fewer emissions. It's win, win, win.
All manufacturers these days - naturally - are keen to offer a "green" range of cars within their traditional line-ups. Among others, we've seen the arrival of Bluemotion at VW, BlueEfficiency at Mercedes, Ecoflex at Vauxhall, Econetic at Ford and now DRIVe at Volvo. It's pronounced Drive-ee. The high-mileage, low-emissions formula is available across the entire Volvo range - from the small and trendy C30 to the luxury S80 saloon and even the rugged XC70. The eco-savings are achieved through a raft of tweaks and modifications. There's low-friction transmission oil, an air-deflector buried in the grille and body panels as smooth as Alberto Contador's legs. But the three most important changes are the use of underbody "aero panels" to create an almost flat underside for the air to pass below. In the bad old days, no one thought twice about the state of a car's bottom, as it was hidden from view. The second area of attention is the alloys, which sit flush to the tyre to create the minimum turbulence as the wind slips across the wheels. And they look pretty cool, too - large, spinning silver disks which glint like fish lures in the sun. Finally, the tyres themselves are made of a firmer compound and have a different groove pattern so they create less resistance as they roll across the tarmac. In the Volvo C30 this all adds up to an astoundingly low drag-coefficient of 0.28, which translates into 64.2 miles to a gallon of diesel, and baby's-breath emissions.
Once you're inside, the car handles just like any other. The only reminder that you are driving a DRIVe being the catatonic fuel gauge and the strange sensation, when you coast endlessly to a stop, that you are gliding across ice. The ride is so silent and friction-free the car doesn't seem to slow down when you take your foot off the throttle. As Paul Simon said, you're just "slip slidin' away ... "
On the road: Lexus IS 220d
Posted by: Gadget Boy in Technology on July 24th, 2009
Smooth, comfortable, but nothing to write home about, says Andrew Anthony
For some years now Lexus has been American for luxury. It doesn't matter that the car is Japanese – part of Toyota – because it's a brand that has had a major cultural impact in the States. If you'd been an American novelist in the last decade or so and you'd wanted to create a character who was successful, materially comfortable and, perhaps, a little complacent, you'd probably have them drive a Lexus.
As Don DeLillo writes in Underworld, "I was driving a Lexus through a rustling wind. This is a car assembled in a work area that's completely free of human presence… The system flows forever onward, automated to priestly nuance… It's a culmination in a way, machines made and shaped outside the little splat of human speech. And this made my rented car a natural match for the landscape I was crossing."
If you say so, Don. No doubt wise to the literary significance, last year Lexus magazine commissioned a serial novella featuring a Lexus IS-F as a self-conscious character. "Dude," it says at one point, "you don't get a ride like me to be sensible."
However, in Europe, home of Mercedes, BMW and Audi, writers showed little curiosity in the Lexus. Perhaps more troublingly for the Lexus marketing department, it wasn't just British novelists who failed to embrace the car. Drivers weren't that bothered, either.
This was in spite of a whole load of product placement in such key cultural shop fronts as EastEnders, Waking The Dead and Spooks. Nevertheless, it remained the car without an identity, which is why Alan Partridge also drove one. It was Partridge, of course, who memorably suggested that the plural of Lexus is "Lexi", thus ensuring that Lexi could never be sexy.
What changed Lexus's British fortunes was the introduction of the IS 220d in 2005. The reviews were mixed but, back in those days of endless credit, sales were healthy.
This updated version boasts a sizeable drop in carbon emissions, sustained performance and frozen prices. The one I drove came with cream leather upholstery which, in its magnificent impracticality, represents to me the very essence of luxury. Whether that concept can be reconciled with my daughter, an apple juice and a yogurt bar remains open to question.
Still, it's a smooth ride, comfortable with a reassuring sense of power when called upon. It's solid and well put together without being particularly attractive. In short, it's another well-made executive saloon – and a slight improvement on its predecessor – which is perfectly nice to drive. But you wouldn't want to read a novel about one.
King of a shrinking world
Posted by: Gadget Boy in Technology on July 18th, 2009
Small, lovable, full of fun... Martin Love joins in the celebrations as the Mini hits its half century
Mini Cooper S
£18,995
Miles per gallon: 44.1
C02 per kilometre: 153 grams
Good for: city slickers
Bad for: salt lickers
It is 50 years since the very first Mini (finished in Old English White with the registration number 621 AOK and costing £496) rolled off the production line at Cowley, Oxford. Almost 5m classic Minis were built, before BMW took over in 2001, and just last week another milestone was reached with the arrival of the 1,500,000th new Mini. And it is a testament to BMW's clever redesign, and to Sir Alec Issigonis's original masterpiece, that there isn't a small car with a bigger following anywhere in the world.
Mind you, the original wasn't perfect. If you pressed the windscreen washer, water squirted all over your trousers, the door sills and window seals sprouted moss quicker than a tray of alfalfa, and if you switched the heater to "cold air" it meant keeping your fingers crossed that the radiator wouldn't explode. Keeping up the tradition, the new model also isn't perfect. The Convertible Cooper S, launched to coincide with the 50th celebrations, has back seats which are only comfortable if you've had an epidural, rear visibility bordering on zero, and a tacky grey dashboard which wouldn't look out of place on a Tonka toy - a bonus if you are under five, but not if you are 45.
But these are small grumbles. The technical gremlins that blighted the first-generation Mini have been ironed out and the car's dipsomania has been improved with a raft of clever economy measures, including a gear indicator, brake-energy recovery system, low-resistance tyres and emission-slashing stop/start technology. More importantly, the car is a hoot to drive. It is energetic and engaging and its tiny wheels make its handling of obstacles direct and immediate - John Prescott would approve.
But a great drive combined with the ability to fold itself into unpromising parking spaces does not turn a car into an icon. There are hundreds of vehicles on the road which are fit-for-purpose, but precious few have the vim, vigour and verve to see them through to 50. So what is it that makes Minis so special? One reason is that for all of us, they come loaded with memories - drive a Mini and the first turning is always down Memory Lane.
Everyone has their personal "Mini memories", but here are three of my own:
1) Creeping into an old barn while on a family holiday to watch the farm cat climb into an abandoned Mini to give birth to a litter of kittens on the back seat. It was white - the Mini, that is - and had a red-leather interior. I can't recall how many kittens she had, but we definitely named one Minnie.
2) My dad buying a car for my mum as a secret Christmas present before my five-year-old brother let it slip. When I told him he'd spoilt the surprise, he protested: "But I didn't tell her it was going to be a Mini!"
3) My wife learning to drive in her grandmother's turquoise-coloured Mini. As she struggled with the gears, Gran passed on a technical nugget of no-frills driving: "Don't bother with first, my dear - there isn't anything you can't do just as well in second!".
