Tag: Motor

7 Reasons to buy an Austin Seven

What’s this? You’re doubtless thinking. A 7 Reasons post on a Sunday? That’s never happened before. And you’d be right (probably). But today, history has provided us with one, in the form of an Austin Seven advert from 1933. And it’s brilliant; I’m so convinced by the arguments contained within it that I want one. So here, for your entertainment, amusement and personal betterment, is the amazing advert and also a bit of an analysis.

1. “It provides the cheapest form of road travel-a penny a mile for four, all in.” This is astonishing. If you (or I) were to purchase one of these and operate it as a taxi the profits would be so vast that we’d soon be richer than Croesus. And conveniently, less dead. Less than a penny a mile!

2. “It is extremely easy to drive, easy to park.” That’s brilliant. That will save me spending ten minutes reversing and going forward in a car before saying “fuck it” and abandoning it in the middle of the road. It will also make it easy to train others to drive it (of which more later).

3. “It needs no mechanical knowledge; it is trouble-free.” It’s an everlasting car that never needs to be tinkered with. Fantastic.

4. “It is good for five, six or even more years of hard use.” Oh, so it isn’t then. Still, that’s quite a lot of use. Especially hard use. After all, it’s hard for cars to float on the sea, so for it to last five, six or even more years when being used to drive to and from France would be a good performance.

5. “It is as fully equipped and finely finished as cars three times its size.” Superb. It’s every bit as good as the Austin Twenty-One then.

6. “It is free from superfluous weight, being the lightest saloon car made-hence its unburdened power and light running costs.” Unburdened power: I like the sound of that and, even if there are costs involved in running the lights, I don’t care. I’m sold on it. I want one.

7. “It is the only baby car proved by the public for over twelve years. No other car can give you equal results.” Wait! Baby car? That’s amazing. I have a baby. I won’t even have to drive it myself! I’m going train him to drive (it’s easy to drive, remember) and put him to work as a taxi driver. Then I can sit back and wait for all of the money to come flooding in. This is going to be amazing.

*7 Reasons will return tomorrow, probably in diamond-encrusted form, with gold taps.

July 31, 2011
7 Reasons to Buy a Popemobile

It’s the last day of the papal visit to the United Kingdom and, somewhat to my surprise, I’ve been inspired by it. I used to believe that the bicycle was the correct vehicle for the urban environment, or that a tank would be practical, but I now realise that I’ve been a fool. The correct vehicle for the urban environment is, in fact, a popemobile. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Performance. A popemobile might outwardly appear a little too sedate for the urban environment. You might wonder how your popemobile will keep pace with modern traffic. But it will. Because the popemobile isn’t the top-heavy, lumbering vehicle that it appears to be. The popemobile that we’ve seen in the UK recently has a top speed of 160mph, and a 0-60 time of six seconds (never let it be said that we don’t do research here). Why they haven’t demonstrated this by spinning the wheels and performing doughnuts to delight the assembled crowds, I don’t know (unless they think that the smoking tyres might signify the election of a new pontiff). But the popemobile is faster than you think. And it’s also bullet-proof, which is handy if you live in Nottingham. Or near a Wetherspoons.

2. Running Costs. Now you might imagine that your popemobile will be expensive to run. And you’re right, it will be. But you can offset that cost by moonlighting as a taxi driver. You’ll make a fortune. Consider it for a moment. Imagine that you’re having a great evening out, but the time has come to return home. You might be a girl with impractical shoes, or married to a girl with impractical shoes and you’ll need to call a taxi. Or you can choose the new premium option, the popemobile taxi. Who wouldn’t pay through the nose to ride home in the popemobile? I’d be dialling MCMXIVIII to order a Vaticab like a shot.

3. View. Finding somewhere to park is one of the trickiest aspects of urban driving. Ever seen a pope struggling to find a parking space? Of course not, just look at the visibility they get in the back. You’ll be able to find a space easily. And laugh at balding people at the same time.

4. Income. The back of the popemobile is, essentially, a large glass jar. Now traditionally, in fairgrounds and confectioners, people fill large glass jars with sweets and charge customers money to guess how many are in there. And you can do that with your popemobile. You can’t just fill it with any sweet, obviously. You’ll need something (ahem) appoperiate. Werther’s Original?. You can charge people to guess how many are in there, and your vehicle will pay for itself really quickly. And you’ll meet lots of men in comfortable knitwear, which is..er…well. There must be a plus side to that somewhere.

5. Visibility. Ever lost your bland silver box of a car in the car park? Of course you have. I once spent almost an hour searching for a Volkswagen Passat I’d parked at B & Q. But with a popemobile that problem will disappear. A popemobile is visible from quite a distance. Even when there isn’t a pope in it.

6. Self-Sufficiency. We’re all looking for ways to stretch our budgets further these days, and everyone’s come over a bit Tom and Barbara from The Good Life recently. In fact, there probably hasn’t been a time since the second world war when people are growing so many of their own fruit and vegetables. In the urban environment that most of us live in though, there isn’t much space to do this. But look at the back of the popemobile. It’s glazed. You can use it as a greenhouse when you’re not cruising in it. And it’s bulletproof. So no one can off your cucumbers with an uzi. It’s an all-round win.

7. Resale Value. It’s unlikely that you’ll tire of your popemobile, but if you should, remember this. Second hand car dealers often try to attribute religious credentials to the former owners of the vehicles they’re trying to sell. “It was owned by a nun”, or “it was used by a vicar to travel around his small country parish” are oft-heard pieces of sales-patter. But imagine that you’re selling a vehicle that’s been owned by the pope? “One papal owner”? You’ll make a fortune.

September 20, 2010
7 Reasons The Sinclair C5 Was Destined To Fail

The Sinclair C5 was relentlessly ridiculed. And quite rightly so, it was rubbish. Any Industrial Design & Technology graduate/person will tell you that. But if they had just made a few small changes, it could have sold at least 500 more units.

1. Women. Quite why Sir Clive Sinclair thought his bucket-on-wheels was going to appeal to a market that needs to check make-up upon arrival at destination, is anyone’s guess. But he did. And he was wrong. If only he had doubled one of the wheels up as a mirror. Sure, it may have looked a bit ‘bling’, but it would probably have appealed to the ever growing pimping community.

2. Date. Unfortunately for Sir Clive, he decided to launch the Sinclair C5 on 10th January 1985. It just so happened that the Viennese zither player, Anton Karas, passed away that day. And as we all know, a zither is much more powerful than a Sinclair C5. The 11th January 1985 was a very slow news day. If only Clive had waited 24 hours.

3. Hills. Always a bit annoying having to get out of your vehicle and push it up a hill isn’t it? Which is why the Sinclair C5 should have come with a tow rope. Or a map that just showed hills that went down.

4. Stirling Job. Getting Sir Stirling Moss to promote the Sinclair C5 may have seemed like a stroke of genius, but they really should have prepped him first. “Just treat it as if you are riding a bicycle,” probably wasn’t quite the ringing endorsement Clive was after.

5. Washing Machines Live Longer With Sinclair. There is an urban myth that says the Sinclair C5 was powered by a washing machine motor. It’s a myth because although the motor manufacturers, Polymotor, do supply to the washing machine industry, they also manufacture torpedo motors. Unfortunately, it is true that the body work of the Sinclair C5 was manufactured by Hoover. Clive should have waited for Dyson. Then maybe I wouldn’t be trying to think of witicisms that involve ‘Sinclair C5’ and ‘cleaning up’.

6. Britain. Sir Clive’s biggest mistake was probably that he tried to sell the Sinclair C5 in Britain. Not only did Britain already have things called cars, it also had weather. And sadly it was never very good. If Sir Clive had been any good at geography, he would have realised that the Sahara desert would be a much better place for his bits of plastic. If it had come with a spade too, the owners could have made sandcastles.

7. Elephants. There is a joke about elephants and minis that I have never really understood. It goes something like this. Q: How many elephants can you fit in a Mini? A: Four. Two in the front, two in the back. Hilarious it may not be, but it does at least make you think of four elephants. In a Mini. Now that’s a terrific endorsement for both Minis and elephant dieting tips if ever I have heard one. So now let’s try it with the Sinclair C5. Q: How many elephants can you fit in a Sinclair C5? A:

August 18, 2010