I'm going to pretend I have some free time (I haven't) and indulge in a post. On this occasion, I'm going to talk about my most long standing passion: cars. I have adored cars since before I could talk. Engines and wheels appeal to me in the most primeval way possible. Much like Mr. Caveman would feel his blood being replaced with chemicals as he walked past a dormant Sabre-toothed tiger, the same feeling greets me as I tiptoe past the Aston Martin garage that protrudes from North Road, near my accommodation in Cardiff.
Not only are they lining the walls and dreams of young boys everywhere, cars are also the missing link between father and son. Mothers and their daughters have a close, other-worldly connection with each other. Bonding through the fate of womanhood, they learn of each other's trials and tribulations. They hold on to each other, with mother guiding her young daughter through the tests of life, of love, and teenage hormones. Fathers and sons, however, do not share this verbal and emotional bond. What holds seemingly estranged fathers with their sons is usually their boy's first car. This is a proud moment for Dad. This is where the fibres of the bond between father and son are woven. Whether it's changing the head gasket on a Metro for the third time that week, or changing corroded brake disks in the dark using nothing more than a Halford's jack and a MagLite torch. Words may not even be spoken, but the bond is held and held close. Just as Mum has to help her young daughter through her first breakup, Dad has to see his son through his first break down. This solid unity between father and son is what makes cars so special.
Anyway, with the soppy bit done, I can move on to cars. I was recently passed on the A470 by a brand new Ford Focus ST, and truth be told, it astounded me. I was moving at a steady 70mph, my 1 litre, 3-cylinder Corsa thrumming and vibrating like I was approaching light speed. As I passed some ambling traffic, I spotted a rather small, yellow dot in my rear view mirror. A couple of seconds later, the small yellow dot had become a much larger yellow blob, with slitty eyes and a gaping, all consuming mouth. I recognised it from the off, but was expecting a replica or a trick of the eye as I didn't realise they were available for sale. I sidled over to the slow lane, eyes very much glued to the mirror to look for the little 'ST' badge on the grill. Sure enough, there it was, briefly. The car didn't just pass me, it blew us backward. It was disillusioning, the speed at which it passed me. By the time I had taken my eyes out of the mirrors and into the windscreen, all I could see was a shrinking yellow blob, complete with a gaping exhaust and the raw induction wail of air being forced into turbo, only to be sped up and rammed into one of four cylinders. I estimate that it must've been doing at least 125-130mph. Doing 70 myself, it shot past to give the illusion I was stationary.
Having done my homework, I happened to know a few key facts about the new model Focus ST. It had a new engine, a brand new unit unrelated to the old, Volvo sourced 5-cylinder, 2.5 litre turbocharged engine that first found fame in the standard issue Motorway Police Volvo V70 estates. The old engine had many devoted followers, and an engine note that was so characterful in comparison to the sea of 4-cylinder hatchbacks that boy-racers thrash and burn in a hard nights work. In fact, the car has a dedicated following, with even Jeremy Clarkson singing its praises. The new engine, I just happened to know, has one less cylinder. It had has 20% less displacement, being only 2.0 litres. But, it was more powerful. Faster, cleaner and kinder to the environment as well. What stood out for me was the fact that all I had seen was numbers on a page. A man, who I have never met, reviewing a car I have never seen in the flesh, let alone driven, let alone be allowed to drive, told me facts and voiced a little of his own opinion, which didn't give me much to go by. What I do have to go by, however, is the moment this thing went by me. It honestly took my breath away. It made my day, seeing this little fiery-yellow, almost aquatic-looking machine steam past me with such poise and stability. This is a car that I may one day be able to own and feel the pleasure of owning, and that in itself is a very rewarding thing.
In an age where the car companies are given more and more strict boxes to tick before they can produce a car, I am happy to report that things are going well. Despite the tightening of the emissions belt, car manufacturers are bursting at the seams with tricks up their sleeves. Gone are the days where going fast required a large engine and large reserves of liquid fossil with which to feed it. Engines are becoming smaller and cleaner and yet not losing their masculinity. Smaller engines mean more affordable costs and more affordable costs mean more accessibility to the young person of the U.K. who, when the poverty of studenthood is paid off, can turn their attention to getting into a car that truly excites and rewards them. In as little as the last 6 years, car companies are coming out with 1 litre engines very similar to the one that nestles under the bonnet of my little Corsa that can produce double the horsepower of my car, and can do it reliably for 100,000 miles.
I do enjoy following car companies. When governments and committees decide that the rules are too loose and require a hideous amount of tension, the car companies step up to the mark with their trickery and technology and come through barriers that seemed impossible not that long ago. Viva la future. Keep men connected with their sons. Keep men connected with their cars.
