On Yer Bike Mate

A few months back I found myself at Brooklands Motor Museum. Despite its name, I was in a room filled with all things pedal powered. As I made my way past Bone Shakers and Penny Farthings, a flash of yellow caught my eye and suddenly I was transported back to being 6 years old zipping along on my blue and yellow Raleigh Striker. It amazed me that already something from my childhood was a museum exhibit.

my Raleigh Striker (nice dress)

After the Striker, I had a BMX and then my Dad actually made me a bicycle, he shot blasted the frame and painted it with the bright yellow paint that was used for the inside of aeroplane engines, no surprise I turned out the way I did really. It was a sturdy thing, and was guaranteed never to rust; I think its still knocking around somewhere refusing to die. It would be an understatement to say bicycles remind me of my childhood, I spent most of the time on mine.

Fast forward 19 years and I think the last time I was on a bicycle was in the New Forest on holiday 5 years ago. I don’t even own one anymore. I almost bought a tandem last year, but that was meant for my Dad and stepmother, they’re tandem kind of people, I still might get them one. I’ve hankered after a Brompton folding bike for some time as I think this would be most useful for pootling around from outer city car parks, up to the shops or in the cycle routes through Burnham Beeches, the Thames pathway or Windsor Great Park. But yet they are astoundingly expensive for a tiny wheeled bike that would spend 90% of its life in the boot of my car. It’s a sad fact that the next bike I buy will involve an accelerator and clutch attached to its handlebars, and a pounding engine between my legs.

My bicycle repertoire has, however been widened slightly of late. My attention was drawn to a couple planning an epic cycle ride for charity, Nicolei Zuraw and Sedef Imer otherwise known as Nuts on Bents. They are planning to use recumbent bicycles to cycle from London to Sydney. That’s Sydney, Australia, land of Neighbours, odd manners, Rolf Harris and the Holden Monaro.

Recumbent bicycle for the uninitiated

“Recumbent bikes have a laid-back riding position, with you reclining in a padded seat instead of sitting on a saddle. Your feet are higher up as well. Recumbents are more comfortable than standard (“upright”) bikes, because there is no strain on you neck, back or wrists. You also have more of your body in contact with the bike, so painful pressure points are reduced. Recumbents are also faster - your legs are in front of you instead of below you, so the aerodynamics are better. Recumbents are at least 30% faster than standard bikes, and can be a lot more - the current speed record on the flat is over 80mph! (http://www.whycycle.co.uk/recumbents.htm)”

Nic & Sedef, they must be a few spokes short of a wheel surely? The distance to travel is a staggering 17,000miles, across 3 continents, 15 countries and through 11 time zones. The only other journey which inspired me as much as the Nuts on Bents trip was the recent ‘Long Way Round’ expedition undertaken by Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman (http://www.longwayround.com/) a trip by motorcycle from London to New York in aid of Unicef, CHAS and Macmillan Cancer Relief.

Charley & Ewan: they took the long way round

It’s truly mind altering, an amazing journey coupled with sheer generosity. I’d sincerely love to be able to undertake such a trip, but the trappings of suburban life and the fact I’m such a wuss prevail. Maybe a gentle car journey from London to Milan in a nice classic vehicle might be more my bag, I’m thinking of doing something like that for classic convertibles. However with the task in hand I can assist by pledging money to the cause, something I do without question, and I urge you to do the same. I find it beyond belief that some people needed gentle menacing for their money promised so readily (you know who you are, shame on you very naughty man). Without such exploits by the likes of Nuts on Bents and the Long Way Round, charities would go unnoticed and unsupported.

Nic & Sedef an inspriational couple

I met with Nicolei Zuraw, one half of the team for a coffee today, he’s not mad, in fact he’s a fellow petrolhead of sorts, drives a fabulously nutty TVR no less and has owned a whole host of Alfas, Land Rovers and such. It’s astonishing that he and his partner, Sedef are self-funding this trip, sure they’ve got some sponsorship, but giving their time, physical effort and teamwork is simply inspiring.

It’s an epic journey Nic and Sedef are about to undertake, they’re hoping to raise £50,000 for BBC Children in Need and Cancer Research UK.

There are a few things in life I’ve regretted, not finishing my pilots licence yet, not being forthright enough to ask someone out, wearing that orange miniskirt, but some of these things you can change. Go ahead, face that challenge, grab the bull by the horns and do something worthwhile. Nic and Sedaf are doing something worthwhile and I for one will watch their progress closely. Good luck chaps!

For more information about Nic & Sedef's trip and how to sponsor them visit:
http://www.nutsonbents.com

Sydney here they come!

What do you think?

Helping a friend choose a new car is a bit like commenting on her latest suitor. If all goes well and they get on famously, then you too are flavour of the month and your friend is indebted with gratitude. If you express disappointment and yet she still goes ahead and buys the car, but the thing turns out to be a complete jalopy then you also remain flavour of the month and your friend promises to listen to you in future as of course, you were completely right all along. However if you express dismay at her choice and infer all the wheels will fall off and her warranty is fit only for lining the cat litter box and the car transpires to be the most reliable versatile mode of transport your friend has ever owned. Then you’re in trouble.

I often try to avoid helping a friend choose a car for this very reason, but it's difficult to say no, "it’s good practice for when someone wants to pay you for your opinion" they argue, so inevitably my good nature and curiosity prevail and it’s off to the showroom.

The job of providing a friend with a sounding board for a new car purchase is made considerably easier if said mate is a bit of a petrolhead. By far one of the best decisions I ever made was to persuade a procrastinating Technology Manager friend to buy an Alfa 147. He agonised over it for more than three weeks, taking numerous trips to the showroom, taking digital photos from every conceivable angle, reading every single roadtest he could find. All the while I kept the pressure on "you know you want it". He succumbed and they’ve been together for two very happy years. He was, of course always going to buy it, he only really needed ‘approval’. I even think it might have improved his image with the ladies.

Some friends can enjoy cars but don’t really see them as essential. One of my friends is a very successful finance manager, she’s been driving a 1993 Nissan Micra slowly for 5 years and she’s only just flirting with the idea of a new car. She’s looking at a Toyota Prius for the environmental benefits or a Mazda 6 because she likes the look of it as she doesn’t like German or French cars she wouldn’t even entertain going to see any. Her husband on the other hand has three cars, one of which is a Ferrari. Takes all sorts.

The task of helping a friend buy a new car can be substantially more difficult if your friend really doesn’t care what the car looks like or how it performs, they don’t even care what manufacturer, country of origin or colour. This is like trying to power London with a bicycle and a dynamo.

My mate Nat is a doctor, she is American, and one of my oldest friends, we’ve shared exam results, stories of first kisses and she was there to provide chocolate, tea and probably something like Tia Maria when I had my first heartbreak. I can go months without seeing her and yet we are so familiar with one another’s company we will still pick up the same conversation as if it were yesterday. Despite all this history, when Nat called me to say she wanted to buy a car as she was moving jobs from London to Manchester, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and the colour drain from my face.

My memory drifted and I remembered when Nat called me one winter’s night several years’ back to help her find Great Fosters Hotel in Surrey to sample the restaurant. She was driving an ancient white and rust Ford Fiesta, which had the Stars and Stripes fluttering from one of the air vents. It was also the first time I’d ever been a passenger in the car with Nat - it was also the last. The darkened Surrey lanes became akin to driving the Nurburgring blindfold when Nat was at the wheel. Unfortunately she wasn’t the greatest driver but did get 10/10 for effort and enthused in-car commentary. Following that I heard tales of Nat trying to change station on a shower radio she had placed on the passenger seat whilst smoking a Marlboro Light driving in a contraflow in the snow; because her radio in the Fiesta had given up hope. I am sure she has improved since then. No I’m certain she has.

I knew Nat wanted a small, economical car that wasn’t too fussy, so began to do my homework. I presented a shortlist of candidates, the Toyota Yaris, Fiat Panda, Renault Clio, Honda Jazz (it came in pink). Nat had other ideas and went off with another friend of hers, stopping at the first dealership they saw that had small city cars. I was beginning to fall even at the first hurdle. I pleaded with her that the car she was looking at was whiney and had poor road handling and would take 800 years to get to 60mph, but she retorted it had free insurance, a warranty and easy finance, it was an uphill struggle.

We decided to battle it out the only way we knew how, an age old tried and tested method, I made Italian food, and Nat brought the wine. Several glasses of white burgundy later the criteria had been defined. Cheap to run, small enough for city use but decent enough for the occasional motorway jaunt, free insurance, easy finance, decent warranty and the option to give it back after 3 years. Simple enough. By the third bottle of wine, the discussion had changed. Did Nat really need a car? She worked long hours, her new job was within walking distance and near very good tram links in Manchester, if she was visiting friends she’d take the train so she could travel with a hangover or write notes without worrying about fellow travellers. She was also a cheap taxi ride or train journey away from Manchester airport for when she travelled home. We finished the wine, switched to whisky and made our conclusion.

Nat didn’t really need a car and we’re still friends.

Shrewd...or Prude?

The weather is glorious, there are hosepipe bans, Mr Whippy is making a killing with his 99 Flake cones, the sound of flip flops and subsequent tripping over fills the air, sales of band-aids to ease ailing blistered feet are at fever pitch. It's a British Summer and my summer loving latin car is STILL in the workshop.

But as I drive along, enviously coveting Porsche Boxsters, Saab 93's, Mazda MX5's, and Morris Minor convertibles; I find myself getting increasingly irate. What is happening to open top driving in this country?

It would appear that the majority of these cars have obviously come out of the factory with malfunctioning hoods, possibly electrickery gremlins, stiff manual hood catches perhaps? A sudden demise in upper body strength? Maybe not, but this is what I'm being led to believe. 90% of all convertibles I saw today and each and every day HAVE GOT THEIR HOODS UP!

Come on you prudish Brits - get your tops off! Show a bit of flesh, be proud of your bald patches, blonde tresses or greying hair and flaunt that middle aged spread, play your stereo as loud as you like and sing along to ELO. Don't hide it beneath your canvas and mohair automotive parasols.

Hold on a second, what sort of brainwashed car nut am I? Not all convertibles are driven by middle aged blokes or blonde totty. They're being increasingly driven by, well people like me actually. Fairly normal folk who enjoy the wind in their hair, the sound of their engine, and you never really appreciate it until you've experienced it; the smell of the surrounding countryside. I know what you're thinking, the smell of catalytic converters on the M4, well no, you'd be surprised but there's one spot as I'm heading out of London where I get the most amazing floral aroma, it could be the expellations of a perfume factory for all I know, but it's wonderful. And I don't give two hoots about the upper echelons of motoring journalism wittering on about scuttle shake, floppy handling and losing some of the car's stability - it's had it's roof cut off for Pete's sake! Or in my case, it just is like that, it's a convertible, I like driving it and I've made my bed, I intend to lie in it (when it gets out of the garage).

So returning to my shielded black-top riding companions, why on earth do they buy cars with convertible roofs? Even the latest trend for folding 'tin-tops', they're just as bad, preferring to switch on the a/c than reach for the SPF.

Is it self consciousness? Hardly, I know that sometimes as I drive along I look as if I'm lodging some blackbirds in my barnet from the wind whipping and my face like a smacked bottom, but hey that's my choice, I bought the car, I pay the hair styling consequences and the face thing? Why it's a healthy outdoors English Rose glow. Who needs MAC or Clinique when you have wind-rouge?

Maybe it's snobbery? The fact that they have the choice, is that it? Half of them have wind breaks to prevent un-flattering un-willing automotive barnet restyling anyway. Frankly I'm not impressed with weekend only hair flappers.

Therefore I propose my first Motor Muppet campaign. The Great British Get your Top Off Campaign.

When you see a convertible in decent weather with it's roof up, I emplore that you politely enquire as to the wellbeing of the roof functionality, and if it's fine, then sternly advise they get their top off, assisting if they obviously are unsure of how it works, I'm sure some may even be shocked to discover that the material actually retracts (this is another theory I have - they think the roof is static and meant to look like that).

The future of British open-top motoring is in your hands my reader, good luck chaps.

Let it all hang out, some things look so much better topless

Motor Muppet....also seen on

Is it wise to want to be on tv?

For me it was an easy decision, who wouldn't?! It was more a question of whether someone would actually let me. Unfortunately I am one of those people who are a little, well clumsy. Case in point, just recently I found myself wandering across the street between my office buildings when I was stopped by two young ladies. They'd helpfully come over to inform me that I had my ever so stylish gypsy skirt tucked into my knickers. If I can hardly dress myself how could I compose a coherent sentence with a camera lens stuck in my mush?

Cast your mind back to December last year, when the snow was so bad that a 20 minute car journey took 3 hours and because as we're British, we were completely unprepared for such prevailing weather systems. Because of this I was spending more time than usual with my nose in the automotive presses and my eyes fell upon an article about an independent production company looking for people who liked cars to film. I responded and was told more about the project.

Car Nation, a series of three, one hour long documentaries about car culture in Britain. Each episode was to be themed and compiled by a different Director. An application form and screen test later and I was somewhat surprisingly in the filming schedule.

I'm fairly familiar with what goes on in programme making, so knew a little of what to expect. I didn't however expect a camera with a lens the size of my head, which is what I got.

Filming took place sporadically over a period of four months. In that time I sold a car, for the knock down price of £75 which was so rusty, as the purchaser came to take it away, the towing hook broke away. Made for excellent filming material, as did the evening I spent searching for a replacement on eBay. Several spelling mistakes and completely inappropriate vehicles later and I bought my fairly tidy, dependable Saab 900 for the princely sum of £750.

Sure enough the subsequent Saab collection was also 'good tv' as I discovered that the car was actually pretty good and not a complete basket case. The highlight for me however, was two in-car sessions as I drove my daily commute into London, my little Spider rigged up with more cameras than the M4 elevated section, I was interviewed along the route and discussed a variety of motoring issues. It'll probably be the closest I get to fulfilling my career ambitions and it gave me the bug even more.

As with most television much of what was filmed ended up on the cutting room floor. On reflection I'm pretty glad it did, my multi coloured winter jumpers remain a embarrassment only to those unfortunate enough to catch me out walking the Buckinghamshire countryside on a chilly Sunday morning

The first episode of Car Nation was shown on BBC 2 two weeks ago. I looked at my watch and found only twenty minutes had passed. The programme was dragging, it was not what I had been expecting. The resultant reviews from friends were somewhat disheartening and I found myself dreading Sunday 10th July as this would be when the second episode aired and my contributions would be viewed.

I settled to watch on Sunday, ten minutes passed and I was laughing, time was moving on, the people were engaging, oddball and amusing with some interesting points to make. I was also surprised at my own contributions. Pleasantly surprised.

I am very pleased with the way in which I was portrayed, Kevin and Steve who I worked with were fantastic, and I would almost certainly do it again given the opportunity, what a great way to make a living, Jeremy Clarkson et al have the right idea.

The final episode of Car Nation airs this Sunday and I for one will be watching. It was never meant to be a series about cars, but more an insight into the people behind the wheel, people we can nod knowingly at and say 'my mate Phil is just like that'. Everyday people.

And yes, my muppet clumsiness reared it's head once again. Mid way through my monologue about the benefits of commuting by car in preference to public transport, I made a statement that 'my car only smells of me' and I can listen to what I like on my stereo rather than 'a tinny rendition of Morning has broken on someone's iPod'. Morning has broken? Who on earth listens to that on their iPod?

Some things will never change.

Subaru's in the Park

Life has been a tad stressful of late for Muppet, so when a friend called me last weekend with an invitation of a picnic in the countryside and a Sunday drive, I jumped at the chance. Idyllic scenery, fine food and a biff about the country lanes. Well, no, actually, that was not quite what he had in mind. I found myself en route in a tastefully modified Subaru Impreza WRX to the interestingly titled ‘Southern Big One’ the Subaru Impreza Drivers’ Club’s first show in the southern counties. The venue was Beale Park, near Reading.

every woman should have a little black number

Impreza-ive

not quite my idea of a picnic

There are roughly 6 different models of Impreza. Some bought direct from main dealers, others being lovingly imported. In unmodified form, the Impreza varies from the 2.0 GX model, which kicks out 125bhp, with 136 lb/ft of torque, it has a maximum speed of 119 mph and finds 0-60 in 9.8 secs. Compared with the top of the range turbo powered Impreza 2.0 WRX STi which has an impressive 265bhp with 253 lb/ft torque, a top speed of 151mph and 0-60 time of 5.2 secs. STi are Subaru Tecnica International (the motor sports division of Subaru), and it does occur to me that at times motor manufacturers really don’t think too much when they add acronym badges to their cars…

think before you acroynm

The modified Impreza’s in their myriad of varied specifications squeeze out more power and higher top speeds be they for road, track or as nature intended, rally use. And the owners are like the possessed in their mission to tweak these 4 door saloon cars within in an inch of their lives.

can you tell what it is yet?

The name Subaru is not the name of the owner of the company; disappointingly there is no Mr Subaru. It is in fact a direct translation of the name of a 7 star cluster Pleiades which is found in the Taurus constellation, as seen on the marque’s badge. Ah but there’s only 6 stars madame muppet I hear you cry, and you’d be perfectly correct. There are only 6 because it is said that the 7th star is barely visible to the naked eye, so quite rightly Subaru don’t show it on their cars.

So, the Southern Big One. The aim, I was told, was to beat the Northern equivalent’s attendance figures of 500 Scooby’s. This is another Subaru ‘thing’ , the nickname for the cars, “Scooby”, as in the cartoon character Scooby Doo, which is why you’ll see many of these cars sporting Scooby Doo plush cuddlies of various size. It’s thought to have emerged via rhyming slang ‘Subaru – Scooby Doo’. On the other side of the coin in Australia the nickname is Rex as the turbo is called WRX, which figures I suppose.

Scooby and er Scooby

Picture the scene, a balmy English summer’s day, a meadow filled with Impreza’s of their various shapes and sizes.

have any one you like, so long as it's blue

I honestly had to look very very hard because other than colour it was increasingly difficult to tell them apart. Granted the majority of modifications was probably lurking hidden under the bonnet or in the tell-tale ride height indicating lowered suspension.

spot the difference

After a couple of hours intensive study and with the aid of my friends’ extensive knowledge, I actually began to notice the differences between models. The original ‘classic’ style, the ‘new age’ controversial ‘bug eyed’ models, which some had had changed before they even left the showrooms and the latest models with smoother looking headlamps. Add to that the trends I noticed. Bonnet air intakes of various designs, rear spoilers of varying sizes, surely there’s a joke in there somewhere? Some of them were so large I expected to be taking tea off them later in the day. But the thing for me were the exhausts. Shiny, varying in note, but most of all diameter. There were some of the hugest exhaust pipes I had ever seen. Small children and family pets could be lost in there and no one would know until they shot out when the car was started.

a cookie cutter? or an exhaust?

Many in attendance at the Southern Big One were from the Essex chapter of the SIDC, which to me seems a fitting habitat for some of these modified Japanese motors. The camaraderie of these members was quite impressive, particularly when visitors were told that one car which I was really quite eager on seeing in action, was ‘not quite working, come back later’. It was alleged that this car belched flames from it’s arse, something I would be very impressed with, I’d even given serious thought to buying some Cumberland’s especially for the occasion. I was saddened, however when the sign was reversed and alas I would not be witness to the flame throwing car today.

but it doesn't

To lighten the mood my friends took me to the nearby wildlife centre which is housed at Beale Park, home to some fascinating playful Meerkats and it did really cheer me up, as in true Muppet fashion I found a miniature steam engine to play with.

it got me hot, it got me steamy

On return to the WRX, the day took a turn for the better; a man from Southern Scoobies who looked as if he’d stepped out of an all-nighter came to inform my friend that his car had been judged ‘best new age’ in that section of the show. Given that he hadn’t really polished the car, nor was it a show car, the resultant smile on his face made me glad that I’d been there to witness the event.

These cars may not quite be my idea of beautiful, they may have hard suspension and give me slight whiplash on acceleration, but are big real Gran Tourismo toys on the road. When in the driver’s seat the high speed cornering ability is colossal, these things really stick to the tarmac.

With the sheer pleasure they give their owners and the dedication they get in return it is hugely admirable and definitely gets my seal of approval.

a proud owner

The word Subaru, if read backwards states "u r a bus". For more information about the Subaru Impreza Driver's Club events visit http://www.sidc.co.uk

essential Subaru equipment

Just one Bugatti...give it to me...

If I had a mansion house surrounded by acres of the finest of England's green and pleasant land I think I would invite to the grounds a few hundred people with fantastic cars and motorcycles to race up my driveway. And I'd even open it up to the public to come along and see for themselves this bevvy of automotive beauty.

This 250 Ferrari GTO is valued at 7 million pounds!

That's exactly what Charles March, the current Earl of March has done every single year since 1993. His house is Goodwood House, synonymous with motor racing since 1936 when a private hill climb was staged through the park by the 9th Duke of Richmond who then opened the infamous Goodwood Motor Circuit in 1948. Racing continued at Goodwood well into the 1960s only halting because of the increasing burdens of safety. The Festival of Speed and it's sister event the Goodwood Revival are a must for anyone who adores the sound of an engine, the smells of wax polish, oil and fuel.

Couple of gorgeous Italian 'disco' dollies

I attended my first Festival of Speed last year. I was like a blind man being given back his sight, it was heaven. I saw cars that I had only ever read about and never thought I would ever see in my lifetime. From the most modern of Le Mans racers and F1 cars to the Bugattis of the 1930s, each and every one is paraded before you, like a motoring sushi bar and you're completely spoiled for choice. The Festival of Speed is much more than a mere hill climb, it is the biggest and most diverse celebration of the history of motor sport in it's various forms. Maddened crazed wildebeeste couldn't prevent me from going back this year.

Magnificent Mercedes

How clean is your engine?

You wouldn't see this in Sainsbury's car park

However wonderful it is to see these vehicles in action with the vast array of well known personalities behind the wheel. Far and beyond this and what makes the Festival of Speed the best motoring event in the country for me is the fact that you can get unrestricted access to get up close to the cars and see them for yourself. This year I spent a good 15 minutes with my head in various orifices of the Bugatti T35, one of my all time favourite vehicles, something that I never thought I'd have the opportunity to do. I now have an ambitious daydream to take a T35 up the hill at the Festival of Speed, so Nick Mason if you ever find yourself reading this; I really like your Bugatti and I'd look after her.

Just one Bugatti, give it to me....

There is only thing I would change about the Fesitval next year and that is to ensure I go for the weekend instead of just one day, oh and remember to take my picnic out of the boot of the car!

Penelope Pit Stop's car attracted lots of little girls...