Attention Early Adopters

On test… Honda CR-Z hybrid

Funny how quickly things change. Remember how a couple of years ago we were all pointing at Toyota Prius owners and laughing? Well now all of a sudden every car brand worth its pistons is talking about adding some kind of eco-friendly-mobile to its line-up. The latest of this new wave to hit SA shores are two new hybrids from Honda – the Prius-challenging Insight… and the "World’s First Hybrid Sports Car”, the CR-Z.

Ok, first things first, let’s set those inverted commas straight shall we. The CR-Z is not actually a sports car. It’s neither very light or fast, and nor does it display razor-sharp handling characteristics. Excellent, that’s settled then. Now we can get down to talking about what’s actually a cool little vehicle. And it’s the cool factor that really sells the CR-Z.

It certainly looks cool – the little Honda’s silhouette is a clear homage to the quirky CR-X imported here in limited numbers during the late 80s. Just like the cult status enjoyed by the X, the Z will should also appeal to young urban hipsters looking for a car to match their impeccable sense of fashion. It’s expertly tailored too. Honda’s Integrated Motor Assist technology means you have a small electric motor sitting snugly between the 1.5-litre VTEC petrol engine and the gearbox. Think of it as a kind of supercharger capable of adding an extra 10kW of power and 70Nm of torque at low revs. It’s very clever actually. Honda’s VTEC engines really come into their own at high revs, but now they also have some low-down grunt from 1500rpm. That of course all comes with a combined-cycle fuel consumption figure of a frugal 5.0 litres/100 km, and a CO2 emissions rating of at 117 g/km – below the new 120g/km emissions tax threshold.

Driving the CR-Z does take some getting used to. Firstly there’s the kind of annoying stop-start tech that switches the engine off when you stop, for example, at a robot. And then there are the three driving modes – which are not annoying at all. In fact they’re a lot of fun. Econ mode sees the dashboard change to a green hue and award you little neon trees should you drive economically. It also keeps telling you to change up a gear when it seems like the revs are way to low. You driving instincts shout “stall imminent!”, but thanks to the electric motor’s extra oomph, that never happens.

Normal mode is, well, normal, so not much to write home about there, but in Sport mode and accompanying racy red dashboard hue, you can actually give it a bit of welly. Look, 93kW is never going to be face-meltingly exciting and the handling is supple rather than sportscar-like, but you can still nip in and out of the traffic with an accompanying whoop. If you can deal with the eco-guilt, that is…

(as appeared in the Kulula in-flight magazine)

Don't Mention The War

On test… Peugeot RCZ

as appeared in the Kulula in-flight mag in Dec 2010

As international rivalries go, France and Germany’s is pretty sizey. Napoleon, you’ll remember, invaded Germany… and Otto von Bismarck returned the favour by inviting his okes to holiday in France during 1914. Provence being such a lovely place, the Germans promptly booked another all-expenses-paid package again for WWII.

These days, with full-scale invasions somewhat frowned upon, the battle has developed a more automotive flavour.Germany built the Audi TT… and in response, France has come up with the Peugeot RCZ. So much does this new Peugeot’s silhouette remind one of the TT that any denial is pretty much pointless. Publicly the French might say “What! Non!! What iz zis… ‘Owdi Titty of which you speak?”. But behind the scenes they’re leaning over the parapets, rifles aimed at the iconic Teutonic (da da dish) coupe.

So how does the challenger stack up? What is the calibre of its bullet? Does it have the firepower to take out the urbane German? Oui and nein would be the best answer. True to national characteristics, the RCZ is a sexy little thing. That double bubble roof should come with a thong and a set of garters, and the twin aluminum roofline pillars complete what really is a pretty 2+2 coupe.

Under the bonnet your get a choice of two engines. Well actually the same engine – a 1.6 turbo – but the one has the boost turned up to 11. The 115kW comes with an auto box and 18-inch alloys, while the 147kW gets bigger 19-inch shoes and a 6-speed manual. However even the grand formage RCZ lacks a little compared to the TT’s 2.0 turbo and its 155kW. Handling-wise the RCZ is pretty damn impressive with a stiff suspension set up dismissing any hint of body roll, yet still supple enough to make for a comfortable driving experience. Perhaps not as sharp as the German’s and its quattro system… but close.

Where the Peugeot does trump the Audi though, is both in the wallet and in the bootie… so to speak. The manual RCZ goes for R376 335, that’s just over R47k cheaper than the baseline TT. Plus the Frenchie comes standard with lux stuff like leather seats, dual-zone aircon, cruise control, a USB port, and an MP3-playing stereo. And for its party piece, pop the hatchback and you’ll discover a golf bag-devouring 384cm3 compared to the TT’s 292cm3.

So, ja, the RCZ is a the beautiful mademoiselle with the lovely bum, and the TT the square jawed blonde oke in the Hugo Boss suite. The Audi is definitely a more sophisticated car than the RCZ, but the Peugeot plays a very strong money card. All in all, an entertaining battle… needs more guns and tanks obviously, but entertaining none-the-less.

A Piece Of Cake. Not.

A "The Other Shape" column I wrote for Shape magazine, Oct 2010

I began to think I might be Bruce Willis. You know… like… dead. As in the Sixth Sense. People were walking past me, looking through me, not talking to me at all. And when I say people, I mean women. And not just women either– mothers. I was at my daughter’s prep school to help with the Grade 2 cake sale, and I was being completely and utterly ignored. More than ignored actually. Shunned.

I’m a man in his 40s now. I’ve been around – one might even use the term “worldly”. I’m normally not only very comfortable in the presence of women, but also comfortable in the spaces and situations that make some of my gender squirm. I can for, example, walk into a women’s boutique, lingerie shop, or make up counter and, on my own, head held high, buy my wife stuff without feeling even vaguely weird about it. Even popping down to the local café to buy nothing but a brightly-designed box of tampons no longer fazes me. Which is why I didn’t bat an eyelid when she asked me to stand in for her at the cake sale.

“You’ll probably be the only dad there,” said my wife, “but that shouldn’t be a problem for you, right my sweetheart?”

“Nah!” I replied. “Besides that one who drives the gold 4x4, the rest all seem like very nice people. Besides, gold 4x4 mum probably won’t even be there.”

“Great. All you have to do is take these cupcakes I’ve baked, lay them out nicely and stand behind the counter and help the other mums serve to the kids when they come out at break.”

“Pppht! Walk in the bladdy park. Can I have a cupcake?”

You know when you bend down to pat a strange, but really sweet looking dog on the head, but as you lower your hand it curls up its top lip a little to show it’s curved incisors? Well that’s what it felt like walking up towards the knot of moms busy organizing the cake stand. To think, I was even expecting a “ag sweet, look it’s a dad come to help us. … he must really love his daughter” kind of vibe.

Only one person said hello to me. And it was gold 4x4 mum. The rest of them totally ignored me. Someone whipped the tray of 15, ok14, cupcakes out my hand and I was left there trying to catch a friendly eye to find out what I should do. Eventually I went to the very end of the stand and sort of lurked on the side trying to look like I was there to help. At least when Holly came bursting out the classroom clutching her R5 coin I’d see a friendly face.

Wrong again. She ran right past me. And when I called her name and she turned and gave me a look like I’d just reversed over the family cat. “What are you doing here?!” she said and then ran off to join her friends. This is the same little girl who comes sprinting down the passage every night to jump into my arms when I get home.

What could I do. I left. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so defeated.

That evening, explaining my weird experience to my wife, she listened attentively and nodded occasionally as she chopped the onions. Oddly though, I didn’t get the gushing sympathy I needed. She may have even smiled at one point. It was then that it hit me. I had just been taught a lesson. Obviously me and my “I’m so comfortable in the company of women” attitude had finally become unbearable. Just to show me that there in fact spaces in this world where men are not welcome, I was sent to the cake sale. These spaces exist and are fiercely guarded because, to be frank, women actually need a break from us men. I get it now.

Obviously my wife is denying everything. But I saw some of those women at school drop off yesterday morning, and they all smiled and greeted me. Except gold 4x4 lady.

RS'ted Development

On Test: Ford Focus RS (as appeared on www.mg.co.za)

We had a difficult first few days, the Focus RS and me. Fear was the factor. Tootling around town and the 'burbs was easy enough, but stamp on the throttle and the RS had me pushing beads in a matter seconds. Ja. A sphincter-clenching first couple of days...

In my defence, this was hardly surprising given both the car's reputation as the most potent production front-wheel-drive hatch ever made, and the words spoken by The Ford Guy when he handed me the keys. "This one's properly quick mate. Be careful. Do your self a favour and before you bullet around the corners, test its acceleration abilities in a straight line first."

Now this is an unusual thing for The Ford Guy -- or any guy from any of the car brands, for that matter -- to say. These people never hand over a car with an attached warning. I've been given keys to Aston Martins, Maseratis, and Audi R8s with little more in the way of parting words than "have fun!" Suddenly The Ford Guy is telling me to watch it? This car must be something.

God, you see, originally planned for a car's front wheels to do one thing -- steer. Back then, when He created the universe, He obviously had a helluva lot to do and hence keeping it simple was a priority. So … rear wheels were for the power … and the front for steering. And it all worked well enough. Then, some smart-arse engineers in the 1930s decided to transmit power through the front wheels. Which was an OK idea from a safety point of view. Suddenly there was a whole lot less uncontrolled sideways action as cars were being pulled through corners rather than pushed.

There's always a "but" though, isn't there …

God, being God, saw this "but" coming from a long way off. In this case the "but" is "but you can't transmit too much power through those front wheels". Asking them to both steer and lay down a gazillion kWs at the same time is one physics lesson too far. We've all seen the Top Gear episodes with Jeremy Clarkson gleefully inducing some or other Opel/Vauxhall Astra OPC to understeer its way off the track in a weather system of rubber smoke.

Torque steer demon
And that was the root of my fear … what would happen if I attempted a little Sarel v/d Merwe action through the corners with the RS's 224kW under foot? One doesn't a) want to write off a R487 000 test car, and b) die. Having experienced powerful FWD cars like the Mini Cooper S and the Renault Megane Sport, I know them to be inhabited by the torque steer demon -- a little fella who likes to yank the steering wheel in random directions when you put foot. Ford, of course, claimed to have exorcised this naughty imp from the RS thanks to its race-developed RevoKnuckle front suspension system and a very trick limited-slip diff. But still. That Ford Guy …

So for the first day and a half I drove the Focus RS in a decidedly conservative manner. Only when the car was pointing straight did I accelerate with any conviction, allowing the 2,5-litre, five-cylinder turbo to red-line its way up the freeway. This, by the way is the same Volvo-sourced engine you'll find in the Volvo C30 T5 and Focus ST. Well … sort of the same. This one has new pistons, intercooler and turbo -- all of which will propel the RS to a 100km/h in 5,9 secs and to a top end of a little more than 260km/h.

One has to remember that the RS is a pretty big car too. The Focus bodyshell -- even in three-door form -- is sizey and it's not exactly light either, weighing in at 1 860kg. The weight is partly the result of Ford's desire to give the car an up-market speccing. Inside you'll find leather Recaro seats, a powerful sound system with steering-mounted controls, Bluetooth, trip computer, dual zone climate control, power windows, park aid sensors and, for added safety, side curtain airbags to compliment the standard driver and passenger ones. All fancy, but heavy, stuff.

Wizardry
Funny thing happened at the end of day two, though. By carefully exploring the limits, I discovered all the RevoKnuckle/limited-slip diff wizardry actually works. There is torque steer, sure, but it's nothing dramatic and completely handle-able. Not elbow-leaning-on-the-window, one-hand-on-the-steering stuff, but with both hands on the wheel, you hardly notice any untoward attempts at directional change. Thanks to those beautifully purposeful, multi-spoked 19-inch mags and ultra-low profile shoes, the RS is endowed with massive levels of grip. And crucially, when they do let go, it's in a progressive and fairly catch-able way.

By day three I was plugged in. Corners required an early-but-purposeful-turn-in to get the optimal front-wheel drive tow through the apex. It was a fine line though. Late-but-purposeful-turn-in, for example, was very bad and the portal to Understeer World, but get it right and the RS slingshots through the twisty like … well … a slingshot. There was the odd moment or two when the car nipped me on the arse to remind me my name was not, in fact, Sarel, but on the whole I discovered it to be an eminently drivable super-hatch. It's a hooligan, make no mistake, wearing the black roof spoiler like a hoodie, but learn its habits and the misunderstood youth persona dissipates. Turns out hooligans know how to have a good time.

Ja, nearly R500k is a lot for a hatch, and it pitches it right up against the sublime handling Scooby Impreza WRX STi, but in the automotive scheme of things, this fast, this lux, and this amount of fun normally costs a lot more.

"Lovely little car innit?" said The Ford Guy when I handed back the keys. Dead right. I was even beginning to like that pearlescent lime green paint job.

Vital stats: Ford Focus RS
Price R487 900
Engine 2500cc five-cylinder turbo
Power 224kW at 6500rpm
Gearbox 6-speed manual
Torque 440Nm from 2300-4500rpm
0-100km/h (claimed) 5,9 seconds
Top Speed (claimed) 263km/h
Fuel Consumption 9,4/100km (claimed combined)
Service Plan 5 year/90 000km
Roadside Assistance three year/unlimited km
Comprehensive Warranty four year/120 000km

WHO’S BEEN A BAD VOLVO?

On test… Volvo C30 T5 R-Design

Let's play the word-association game.

I say “Volvo”. You say......“safety!” Of course you did. It’s practically involuntary. And given their history of innovations in automotive safety, hardly surprising too. For decades now, Swedes in white lab coats have been beavering away inventing stuff like three-point safety belts and side-curtain airbags, not to mention providing long-term job security for a legion of crash-test dummies.

These days though, someone has clearly been adding a little Absolut the morning coffee. In a very un-Volvo frame of mind, Olav and his mates have thrown caution to the wind and created a genuine hot hatch. The car in question is part of Volvo’s new face-lifted C30 range of which the T5 R-Design heads up these svelte lookers. It’s not often a mid-life nip ‘n tuck alters a car as much as what’s been achieved with the C30. Thanks mainly to a re-profiled front end, the entire C30 range has been transformed from a pretty car into a far more macho beast. What before was a Cool In The City run around for young urban women, now looks a lot more like a street racer for the blokes.

Especially when you add the R-design body kit package. Lowered side sills, a rear spoiler, a lower front chin and racy 5-spoke, 19 inch alloys push the boat out even further, deep into “I kick yøur böttom at da røbot” territory.

The car has the chops to back all this up as well. The T5 still has the 5-pot turbo motor shared with the Ford Focus ST, and in the Volvo it pushes out 169Kw with 320Nm of torque. Forced induction is the vogue these days and as with most new-gen turbo engines, the T5’s is a wonderfully versatile motor that will provide sufficient low-down torque to go along with the impressive top end. It’s no deep throated V8, but there’s also something special about that high-pitched turbo whine – especially when exercising one’s rev limiter rights up and down the 6-speed manual gearbox.

What you’re going to like the most is the way this baby handles. Volvo have done a Volvo and basically created a car that feels taut and sharp, yet without the ability to bite you on the arse should you over cook it. Thanks to the R-Design’s tweaked “sports chassis” you can take it to the limit where, in a calm Scandi accent, the chassis’ feedback will then tell you to take it easy… unless of course you’re wearing a dark-visored, white, full-face crash helmet and are rumoured to carry an emergency koeksister in your cubby hole. Then it says nothing. Price: R335 600.

To The Point Jhb launch

... and here's the one in Jhb

22 November

Exclusive Books

Mandela Square

6pm for 6:30pm

If you're in Jhb and want a signed copy...

To The Point Book Launch

We'll be having exclusive launches at... ja... Exclusive Books.

The Cape Town Invite

8 November

Exclusive Books, Cavendish Square, Claremont

6pm for 6:30pm

Herschelle will be there

(and me)

Open to all so please feel free to pop by...

The Durban Invite

(looks a helluva lot like the CT invite)

15 November

Exclusive Books, The Pavillion, Westville

6pm for 6:30pm

Herschelle will be there

(and me)

Open to all, so please feel free to pop by.