Steve's Crap Car Of The Day

GENERAL MOTORS EV1.... 1996-1999


Conspiracy theories abound as to the demise of the world’s first mass-produced electric car. There was even a doccie about it called “Who Killed The Electric Car” I think it even made the movie circuit here.

Why? Because In 2002 General Motors terminated the leasing program and huffily took all their cars back.

And why did they do that? Because, say the conspiracists, General Motors knows who butters its bread. In this instance the holders of the blunt knife were the petroleum giants and, say the Conspiracists R Us, it was they who pressured GM into whipping the cars off the road.

Umm… ja… actually… no.

The real reason was that the car was totally crap.

And GM knew it too. Why else would they only lease the 800 or so cars they made to chosen citizens in California and not have the bollocks to actually sell them?

There were, in fact, several levels to its crapness.

1. It looked like a car wearing a balaclava.

2. It was first released with lead-acid batteries. Which basically gave it the carbon footprint the size of a small town when you consider what it takes to mine the battery’s contents… and then dispose of it when the car was scrapped

3. The second gen. nickel-metal hydride batteries were greener… but they took 8 hours to charge. And they only provided a marginally improved mileage…

4. ... which was the car’s biggest problem. With the gen 1 battery you could probably get 90km out it. Gen 2 would give you 120km. Woohoo.

Basically then you had a car with enough amps in the tank to get you to the shops and back… Plus it kinda looked like its pants were falling down.

The EV1's final Stamp Of Crapness came when GM reclaimed all their EV1s. As if to obliterate all traces of this useless automobile, they crushed most of them save for a couple donated to museums (with their drive-trains disabled).

The whole exercise cost GM $1-billion. One. Billion. Dollars. Seriously.

DA SMITHY CODE... decoding the sport soundbyte

Spanish coach Vicente Del Bosque on misfiring striker Fernando Torres

“Fernando has not been helped by the team not clicking at times, but we’re very happy with his work.”


What he actually means:
“Si, Fernando has been crap – he does play for Liverpool after all – but I have to justify his continued selection based solely on the chance he could re-reproduce a moment of that European Cup-winning magic. Who cares if, at the moment, it looks as though he couldn't score with just Robert Green to beat, at least it looks like he’s running around the field a lot.

Diego Forlan stole my wife… aka... Oh Christ, I’m 40

Saturday was my mate Paul’s 40th. Poor bastard. His face mirrored the conflict clearly tug-of-warring inside his head. “Christ, I’m turning 40… It’s OK, it’s not that old. You’re a man on top of your game…. Christ I’m turning 40…It’s OK, it’s not that old…etc”

I know this because I had the same look on my face when I turned 40. Look at the photies and it’s as clears as day. Actually most days it’s still on my face. Anyway, besides the fact that were both now in our 40s, Paul and I have few other things in common.

One, we’re both keen mountain bikers (except he’s really good), we both have an affinity for alt.country/new folk music (I remain for ever grateful for the introduction to Midlake and Fleet Foxes), and our spouses are both artists. In fact they share a studio.

So there we all were at Speedway Café celebrating Paul’s birthday. Even though I’m a sports writer by trade, I only had half an eye on the soccer (it was the Ghana-Uruguay quarterfinal). Mostly I was talking to my mates, many of whom I don’t see as often as I should.

When Diego Forlan scored his great free kick, us guys were like “wow, impressive goal… you know I still haven’t heard the new Wilco album, pass the peanuts.” Suddenly though, my attention was caught by the conversation behind me. It was a knot of woman – the wives and partners of us men folk. And they were talking animatedly about the football. And one of them was my wife.

Cue textbook double take.

In a more subtle kind of way, I leaned in closer. Was the FIFA World Cup’s influence so great that the majesty of football had finally become a topic of interest to these women? And remember, these women weren’t just any women. These women are the stylish, arty, highly intelligent types. The types who us blokes still can’t believe find us dufuses (dufi?) attractive. These are the same women who usually don’t give sport the time of day, and only allow us to watch so much of it as an act of benevolent indulgence.

And what were they talking about?

*Woman 1: “Another great goal by Diego.”
**Woman 2: “Yes, isn't he so talented... and so strangely attractive.”
***Woman 3: “Hmm yes. Strangely attractive.”

Suddenly I’m not enjoying the football so much any more. Nor feeling any better about being 40.


*, ** & *** In the interests of self preservation, not even North Korean noodle torture would make me divulge actual names.

Steve's Crap Car Of The Day

FERRARI 400 1976-1979

Proof that even Ferrari have made some clunkers... and further proof of the existence of that mysterious group, “The Mirror Image School of Design”. Another car that looks pretty much the same from the front as it does from the back.

For some weird reason someone at Ferrari stood up at the annual board members' picnic and, while nibbling on a toasted bruschetta (the ones drizzled in olive oil and rubbed with roasted garlic), bravely suggested they build an expensive two-door coupe that handles like coal barge and accelerates only marginally faster. Oh... and it should be designed by Luigi over there who’s been studying origami.

And for some even weirder reason they all said “Si!”. Those bruschettas were really delicious.

You’d think a 4.8-litre V12 would make a car fairly quick. You’d think. But muffled by a truly terrible auto gearbox and suspension geometry a 50s Cadillac would’ve been proud of, the 400 was painfully slow given its pedigree. "Slow and nice looking" most people can live with. "Slow and one degree removed from a Nissan Skyline"… erm. Nope.

The Art Of The Sports Psyche

Know this… whatever sports stars and their coaches/managers say at press conferences, it is never what they mean. What may seem like an honest assessment of the game or a little hint of their strategy always has another agenda.

Let me give a couple of recent examples….

Schweinsteiger on Veron
German midfielder Bastian Schweinsteiger singles out Juan Sebastian Veron for praise ahead of the big game tomorrow: “He has played very strongly here, I have been impressed.”

Bollocks. If the Germans were genuinely impressed with Veron, they would never say so. Schweinsteiger is really doing two things here: one, he’s slipping the Argies a little misinformation trying to get them to think they’ll be focusing their attention on Veron. They won’t. It’ll be Messi that they’ll mark into the middle of next week. And two, he’s psyching out Veron. Nothing like your opponent telling you how well you’re playing to put you off your game.

“Schweinsteiger” by the way, does not mean pig shagger as we all thought, but pig inspector. Which, arguably, is the same thing.

Gyan on soaking up pressure
Ghanaian sriker Asamoah Gyan had this to say before their quarterfinal against Uruguay tonight: “We know how to soak up pressure. I believe in my friends, the Black Stars.”

Ja, whatever. If your team couldn’t soak up pressure they wouldn’t be at the world cup. Neither is this a signal of Ghana’s intention to sit back and bravely grit their way through the Uruguayan onslaught. No team would give away it’s tactics that easily.

What Ghana are going to do is kick the living crap out of the Uruguayans in an attempt to intimidate and out muscle them. It’s their only chance to disrupt Uruguay’s well-oiled machine. Gyan’s comment is part of a pre-game strategy to make it look like their robust tactics would be a result of their “gritty and brave defence” rather than the more pro-active “kick ‘em until they cry” tactic it’s more likely to be.

Steve's Crap Car Of The Day

THE AUSTIN APACHE 1971-77

My granddad had one of these. In light blue. Not one of his finest moments.

A shining example of the little-known Mirror Image School Of Design, the front half of the Apache looks, in fact, exactly the same as the back half. A landmark achievement in economy of design. You could genuinely swap the front headlights with those at the rear and no-one would know the difference.

Based on the Austin Farina but re-styled “by the pen of Michelotti”, that claim could well be true… except it’s highly unlikely Michelotti himself was actually holding his pen at the time. “From the pen of Michelotti as borrowed by the janitor while the maestro was enjoying a late afternoon pick-me-up espresso” is a more of accurate descriptor.

Performance wasn’t exactly the Apache’s strong point – that despite a 1300cc engine taken from the Mini Clubman GT. It went from in 18.8 seconds (humans accelerate faster than that) and it topped out at 141km/h.

It’s biggest problem though was that it was made by British Leyland. And not just British Leyland, but British Leyland of the 1970s… which meant it had the build quality of Cornish pastie. The road handling too.

Obviously it now has an appreciation society. But, as we all know, that’s a therapy group in disguise helping its members soothe the pain and embarrassment of owning such a total lemon

Steve's Cool Car Of The Day

LANCIA STRATOS

Before the Lancia Stratos appeared, rally cars were no more than bog standard vehicles in flared trousers. The Fords, Minis, Saabs, and Fiats that won exotic events like the Rallye Automoble Monte-Carlo were your basic rep mobiles with beefy wheel arches.

This was all part of the plan of course. As a manufacturer, one embarked on a rallying program with one specific purpose in mind – to sell more cars. If one’s Ford Escort won a rally on Sunday, one could be sure the punters would be lining up outside one’s dealership on Monday.

Which is why the Stratos pissed everyone off. Lancia not only went and designed a supercar, but at the hands of Sandro Muntari and then Bjorn Waldegard, the bladdy thing won the World Rally Championship in 1974, 1975 and 1976. In fact it would probably have cleaned up for a few more years had FIAT’s (who owned Lancia) bean counters not intervened and insisted a FIAT 131 be rallied instead.

Too bad – at least the world witnessed three glorious years of this Ferrari V6-powered, Alitalia-liveried rocket ship sliding sideways around any bit of road that deviated from the dead straight

A modern take on the Stratos was shown at the 2005 Geneva motor show – sadly the concept never made it to production…