C for Cack

Our steed for the week in Provence was a Mercedes C-class. The outgoing C-class seems to get good reviews, and I’m sure when equipped with 360-odd bhp of stonking V8 engine it’s a real hoot.

But when equipped with an asthmatic and growly 2.1 Diesel engine, it all goes a bit pear shaped. To say it lacked poke was an understatement, and the combination of reluctant manual gearbox and clumsy foot-operated parking brake was a major irritation. It refused to tackle corners with any verve or enthusiasm, wimping out with surprising amounts of body roll. The interior quality was nothing special, to boot.

It says much for badge snobbery when people are prepared to pay £23k for this when the Ford Mondeo is far more fun to drive.

White Vans Are So Fabulous, Darling!

Sometimes, all this metrosexual malarky can just get too much, and there comes a time when even the campest queen needs to re-focus and rediscover their core inner masculinity.

But forget spending thousands on therapy or going on ridiculous “male-bonding” camping trips, all you need to get back to basics is to drive a white van, as I did this weekend whilst helping a friend move house.

Maybe it’s the feeling of “get out of my way” invincibility, the springy suspension, the back to basics interior or the raucous Diesel engine clattering ahead of you, but there is something dead butch – and tremendously fun – about the whole escapade of driving a Transit.

At one point, I could be seen sat in my white van eating a Ginster’s sausage roll, drinking Coke Zero (Diet Coke for men) and listening to Radio 1. It was pure, non-metrosexual bliss. I almost felt the urge to stare at breasts as I careered through town, throwing the van into bends and laughing as even BMW 3-series drivers just got out of my way.

Obviously, this veneer of butchness was shattered every time I spotted a fit bloke on the pavement, but that’s not the point OK? So rediscover you inner White Van Man, hire a Transit today!

Diva Detox – with an an old motor

Feeling a bit pampered? Have an inflated sense of your own importance? Is your list of requirements everywhere you go longer than Mariah Carey’s? Why not have a Diva Detox – by driving something old and unfashionable.

Despite my better judgement, I offered to give the Chef and some friends who were cycling from London-Brighton in the name of charity a lift home. Four bikes won’t fit in a MINI, so I risked my street cred by driving to Brighton in a friend’s trusty Peugeot 306.

The drive took FOUR hours in the congestion, so I had plenty of time to think about the 306′s merits. The 306 was the state of the small car art back in 1993, and even now it handles, rides and steers much better than some far more modern machinery – the dismal Nissan Almera and “nice butt, shame about the rest” Renault Megane spring to mind.

The visibility in the 306 was literally, eye-opening. Modern cars these days for reasons of fashion have high waists, and huge pillars so the stiffer shell can pass modern crash tests. Only problem is that you are more likely to test your car’s crash safety because you could lose a speeding truck in the massive blind spots the pillars create.

One area where cars have come on leaps and bounds in the past 13 years is interior quality. It was something of a shock to drive a car with a loose feeling interior with a dashboard from the “thrown together” school of design made from shiny plastics. And the lack of air conditioning took me back to those sticky summer holiday drives in the back of my dad’s Cortina. So hooray for leather, solid soft feel plastics and chrome trim – because after all, you spend far more time looking at your car interior than you do the outside.

However, my 306-owning friend may be having the last laugh – he doesn’t have an eye-watering direct debit to BMW Financial Services every month.