driving | Diesel is for tractors

Soon driving won’t be

You obviously, like myself, enjoy driving. From the regular spin to the shop or the daily commute to work, to the random drive just for the hell of it. For many its a key factor in their lives, the machine that they use the most. To some of those people, it becomes almost an extension of themselves. From the initial decision to buy a car, to the research, test drives and ultimately purchase, it’s all exciting stuff. When you start to work on the car, topping up the windscreen washer bottle, then changing oil and filter, progressing to suspension changes and performance tuning, it’s all a bonding experience.

Manufacturers are slowly taking away the chance for you to work on the car yourself. Engines hidden behind molded panels, special dealer only tools to remove certain parts etc. But at least we can enjoy the driving part….. but for how long?

Cars are rapidly gaining new tech. Much of this is welcome, but some is removing the driver from the equation. It started with things like automatic gearboxes and oil warning lights. I knew a guy who insisted on driving a rental car, an automatic one, full of a group of friends. He managed to throw everyone out of their seats with violent braking, as he sank his “clutch foot” to the floor, on the brake pedal. Twice. Before leaving the rental car park. Minutes later he asked what the P position was on the gear lever. Presuming he was kidding, I joked it was a “Power mode” for high speed driving. Thankfully I was able to stop him as he went to engage P while doing 70mph. The same guy called me, having broken down on the motorway. “I don’t know what happened, it started making a strange noise, then the power just went”. On arrival at the scene, I was greeted by a large pool of oil under the car and a piston trying to escape through the side of the block. “Did you have any warning lights on the dash?” I asked. “Yes, the oil light was on for a while. A few days maybe”. “When did you last dip it for oil?” – “I don’t know…. is that not something the garage have to do when they service it?”. Yes, really.

Soon came self levelling lights. Then auto wipers, auto lights, parking sensors and reversing cameras. To most they seem like a great thing to have in your car, and fair enough, to many they are. But they don’t stop there. Lane departure warning, blind spot warning, self parking cars, hill start assist, auto braking….. the list goes on.

Why am I so against all this you ask? Well, its all heading toward fully autonomous cars. And it’ll be with us sooner than you think. The idea has been around for decades. What started out as pure sci-fi stuff, is already happening, in many countries around the world. They claim it’s about safety, and to be fair, it mostly is. Many people just shouldn’t be allowed to ride a bicycle, never mind drive a car. They are a potentially lethal machine after all.

But where will that leave us petrolheads? Imagine you want to go to work. You go outside your door and a car is waiting for you at the roadside. It’s not yours, its owned by the manufacturer. Its arrives when you need it and goes back to a storage unit when you don’t. As you approach, the door opens, the seat slides out to meet you and cossets you into the car. A voice asks “do you need to stop by the grocery shop today?” to which you reply “No, just straight to work thank you”. The car moves away, silently and soon joins a convoy of other similar machines on the road. You sit back and stare at the back of the car ahead, remembering what it was like when you had to concentrate and actual drive to work. You realise that if the car broke down now, you wouldn’t have a clue what to do to fix it. Good thing the car itself would organise a replacement to come collect you immediately.

After work, you say to your friend, I remember when I looked forward to taking the long way home. He points out to you that you still can. But whats the point? Nowadays, you just want to get home. The joy of engaging with the car, feeling the road beneath you, sensing the changing grip levels and enjoying the sound of the engine as the revs rise and fall, those days have passed. A distant memory. The government won’t allow people to own a vehicle that doesn’t drive itself as it’s too dangerous. Petrol engines? Long gone. Hearing the musical V12 approach the Cars & Coffee meeting, replaced with the faint hum of the electric motor. La Passione – no more.

When did all this happen? When did cars start to change in a way that no longer was a help to the real drivers out there? A long time ago.

My advice…. buy that sporty car you always dreamed of or the vintage car you want to restore. Enjoy it while you can, as the future may be one where you are just a passenger.

The disease you may not know you have

What? another new illness? Yes, well, maybe.

Tell me more!

Its something that plagues a huge number of the worlds population, in a variety of guises. Its been around a long time, but I’ve yet to find its true name, so let me discribe it to you and ask yourself if you possibly have it too.

It probably started for me when I was about 6 years old. My father allowed me to steer the car on a private road. I don’t know if it was an airborne illness or something that resulted after touching the cars controls, but that was when it began.

The next batch of symptoms were not noticed by family as anything abnormal. Posters began to appear on the walls of my room, mostly of Italian exotica. Toys were replaced with scale models. The tv shows I watched began to change from regular cartoons to ones with cars, examples such as Transformers & MASK, to anything that featured an engine – Night Rider, Steet Hawk, Magnum P.I, Airwolf, Automan, Hardcastle & McCormick, Miami Vice(although the parents didn’t know!) Dukes of Hazzard and the A-Team. There were more but I can’t remember the names.

Then it got worse. I started to go to local Rally events. My parents must have simply not wanted to admit I had this sickness, because the signs had become obvious. The sound of the neighbour starting his Sierra Cosworth. It drove all the other locals crazy, but I couldn’t get enough. Lying in bed at night as the same car would return from a night out, I could hear it approach from miles away. Each downshift, the gentle increase and decrease of revs while cornering, to the roar on the straights.

Sunday sports tv was replaced with F1. The collection of mags left in the house by my uncle we raided. I hit the jackpot…. mountains of issues of CAR magazine.

I started to watch, actually study, my Dad as he drove. I wanted to as good as he was. I listened to any conversation that had the slightest hint of petrol, hoping for tips or just cool car stories.

I would identify the make and model of every car I would see, thankfully all this was kept in my mind as I’m sure those around me would have had me committed. Instead of being angry when I spotted a car I didn’t know, I was delighted. It meant I had to go researching! All this in the days before the interwebs, it meant visiting the library, the newsagent and actually talking to people, face to face.

But things took a turn for the worse when a certain red beast, with “2 roundy triangles” under the bonnet, arrived from the land of the rising sun. Then the sickness turned into its most destructive form. Financial stage 3 sickness. First it was the initial cost of the car. Then the shipping and freight insurance. Then the flights to the UK to collect it and ferry back. The duty, the VRT, the insurance, the fuel. The large bill for the rebuild, the various bits and pieces it needed along the way. Then came the mods.

Oh the mods…… its by now that if you aren’t nodding with me, you are probably safe and disease free. So go away. If on the other hand, your smiling, knowing what its like to suffer, read on.

I find myself turning on the pc and immediately checking car sales sites & parts sites. Not just in Ireland, no, that would be too easy and probably not cost enough. Nope, the internet is a global market place, so I must use it to the full, along with my ever dwindling bank account. But its ok, I have an understanding woman in my life. She knows I have inner demons, which torment me, daily, hourly. She can read my body language from the other side of the room. She knows, really knows, when I have located the NEXT car. Or worse, when I have located that rare part, for the rare car, that I DON’T own….yet. Oh yes, B, you are a truly understanding woman and I am blessed to have you in my life.

What she doesn’t realise, is that I have slowly, over many years, been trying to nuture this disease in her also. Wicked? Wrong? Disgusting? Evil? yes, probably. But I know that if we both suffer the same sickness that it will ultimately bring us even closer together. When will I stop? When the day comes that she wakes me up, saying “I’ve just changed the injectors on my car and fitted the uprated fuel pump. Want to go for a spin to test it out?”

Any day now!

Thank you Dad for this sickness, and to my Mum for understanding, it has come to define me and is a part of my soul now, I’ll forever be grateful.