Top 5 ... most unusual car doors ever

Why put a normal set of practical and reliable car doors on your innovative sports car when it could grab all the attention with a pair of these. They don’t just open, they…

SCISSOR… Alfa Romeo Carabo The iconic Lamborghini Countach might have made these famous, but the 1968 Alfa concept car was actually the first to show doors that scissored upwards. Designed for the Bertone design studio by Marcello Gandini (he designed the Countach too), the Carabo’s name is derived from the “Carabidae” ground beetle. Don't you just love the showgirl. And her helmet.

FLAP… Mercedes SLS AMG In homage to the magnificent, 300SL “Gullwing” of the ‘50s, the latest Merc supercar also features a pair of doors that hinge upwards from the roof. V cool… unless of course your garage is narrow and low ceilinged.

BUTTERFLY… Alfa Romeo Stradale A bit like the Lambo’s doors except these so-called dihedral doors don’t just move up, but slightly outwards too. The Alfa – an extremely rare and beautiful road car based on T33 race car – was the first production car to feature them in 1967.

LIFT… Ferrari Modulo Why have doors when you can make the entire roof lift up? Paolo Martin of design studio Pininfarina was thinking waaaay out the box when he came up with this futuristic concept car for the 1970 Geneva Motor Show. Based on a Ferrari 512S chassis, the car won a number of international design awards. The Buck Rogers of Ferraris....

DISAPPEAR… BMW Z1 This was a bit of a surprise. By 1987 we’d thought we’d seen just about every door permutation possible…until those clever lads in Munich turned up at the Frankfurt Motorshow with a new roadster with doors that simply disappeared. Push a small button... and Wolfgang's your uncle... the small doors retracted into the car’s body. It went on sale in 1989.

Achtung!… it’s Kapt Jakob Spärrow

On test… VW Golf R & VW Scirocco R

With their two new R models, Veedub have swooped in on the current flotilla of high performance cars. Just like pirates… German ones. Everybody say Rrrrrrrrrrr!

They don’t make pirates like they used to. Once they had flowing locks, full beards and wore thigh-high leather boots into which were tucked small-but-vicious knives and some eyeliner. These days though they’re just skinny Somali blokes with an inflatable dinghy and a rocket launcher.

It’s just not the same.

Neither is the hatchback market now that these two Germans have come sailing in cannons blazing. It’s the classic guerilla pirate tactic… move in quickly from different directions, sow panic and confusion among the fleet, and then disappear over the horizon with the booty.

As a potential car buyer the main confusion is which one of the two R’s to buy. And as most thing things do, it all boils down to a matter of personal taste. The R’s have already plundered their shared 188kW 2.0 turbo engine from the Audi S3, but that’s where the similarity ends.

Golf Rrrrr!

The Golf R is the slightly safer option. Its 4Motion all-wheel drive train means it tracks through corners as if on rails. Acceleration times too are marginally quicker than the Scirocco’s and if you compared lap times, the Golf R would probably shade it’s sibling as well. As with many modern turbo’s the EA113 mill is wonderfully tractable – whether you’re using the 6-speed manual or optional DSG paddle-shift auto, there ‘s bags of lowdown grunt (350Nm of torque between 2 500 and 5 000 r/min). Both test cars also came with VW’s (rather pricey) Adaptive Chassis Control system that allows one to flip between “comfort”, “normal” and “ sport” suspension settings. But frankly, it’s hard to tell the difference between them, and even “comfort” is plenty stiff.

The Golf is of course a more practical vehicle with four doors and a bigger hatch, but that doesn’t detract from an air of menace the car exudes. A stance 10mm lower than the GTi’s, standard 19-inch alloys and darkened light clusters see to that. The effect is one of subtle menace.

Scirocco Rrrrr!
Then again there’s nothing subtle about the Scirocco R. The standard two-door, coupe-like Scirocco is low, wide and aggressive enough, but the R’s body kit with its bigger rear wing, sill extensions and new bumpers takes it up a notch or three. It sits on the same 19-inch alloys at the Golf, but it’s the way the Scirocco’s rubber handles the tarmac that really sets these two cars apart.

The Scirocco feels more engaging. It requires more of you as a driver. Unlike the all-wheel drive Golf, the Scirocco delivers its power through the front wheels only, which in turn requires more precise throttle control in the corners. Get on it too early and the car pushes toward the outside, but get it right – set the corner up with the wonderfully precise steering and unspool the wheel, feeding in the gas – and the Scirocco feels incredibly planted.

Both are brilliant sports hatchbacks and it must be mentioned that the Scirocco is a shade under R12k cheaper than the Golf. However, in the end it comes down to your sword of choice… the precise and deadly rapier, or the more swashbuckling sabre. Personally, I’m more the swashbuckling type.

The Golf R starts at R419 300 and the Scirocco R at R407 400

As appeared in the October 2011 issue of the Kulula in-flight magtazine

Boxing Progress Report No. 11: The Well Has Been Capped

Looks like my nose is on the mend. I got through 4 rounds of sparring on Saturday without any actual blood dribbling out of it. High fives all round. That’s not to say I didn’t get popped a couple of times. A few jabs got through my defences to test the elasticity of my nasal cartilage, but I’m please to report it sprung back to its original shape without having to reach for the hanky.

Along with my stock-in-trade left jab, very encouragingly, I also managed to land a couple of pretty good straight rights and... wait for it... an actual left hook. Aghast, The Armoury came to a standstill. The only noise heard being the dying slaps of the speedball.

"Yoh," said Clever.

On the down side, my neck’s not happy. I slipped a disc about 10 years ago, trapping a nerve. Cue eye-watering pain. Contrary to the scalpel-sharpened advice of “Cape Town’s leading neurologist” I opted for Ayurvedic acupuncture and 6 months recovery over a trip to the operating theatre and neck vertebrae fusion. It worked. Since then my neck’s always been a weak point, but at least I avoided very invasive surgery.

Any way, a couple of weeks ago during a boxing fitness class, we did some rather odd sit-up/squat/shoulder-raise combo exercise with a medicine ball... bad idea. The muscles in my neck went into a spasm which usually indicates the disc is unhappy. More uncomfortable than painful, but it’s hasn’t gone away.

My Auyurvedic guru has since passed away, but chiropractor/physio/acupuncturist Rob Beffa is my go-to guy these days. Time for another visit…

Boxing Progress Report No. 10: The Black Eyed Steve

Blood in the ring again during Saturday arvie’s sparring session. This time mine.

It was Left Hook Guy again and that damn difficult-to-block punch of his. I had ducked under a straight left-right combo but committed to cardinal sin of coming up without my right glove positioned next to the side of my face. He didn’t even hit me that hard either, but the hook landed flush on the side of my schnozz. There was a small chiropractic crackle between my eyes and I felt a warm flood in my nose. This is despite wearing head protection… which now needs a bit of a clean.

And all in my very first round of sparring.

“Madala,” said Clever clicking his tongue and stepping into the ring with a roll of toilet paper (he calls me Madala… ‘old man’), “you’ve got to keep that right up.”

Left Hook Guy was mortified that he’s conked another one of Clever’s Army – his own team – on the nose and drawn blood, but we all know that’s part-and-parcel of the deal. It’s good prep. Bloody noses aren’t uncommon at the white-collar boxing fight nights.

After both swallowing a few cc’s of my own blood and being swabbed up by Clever, I boxed another 3 more rounds getting hit one more time on the nose. It wasn’t much more than a jab, but again more blood. And more swabbing…and then one final round. For me. I needed to climb back on the horse and finish properly.

Touch-glove respect and manly hugs all round.

Woke up on Sunday morning looking like this…

Steve's Boxing Progress Report No. 9: "Lightbulbs in the ring"

A cerebral lightbulb went off during sparring yesterday. One of the guys in Clever’s Army has a pretty damn good left jab. He also has a pretty damn good left hook… which often follows the jab. It’s a lefty double-up. Jab-hook. Bam-bam. Very quick. I’d been “catching” the jab with my right glove as one should, then bringing said right glove back to my head to protect against the hook. Sometimes I’m quick enough. Sometimes I’m not. It’s not so much sore, as it is bladdy annoying.

Clever takes me aside.

“When he throws the jab, don’t just block it, knock it away with your right. It’s not just a block or a deflection, but you actually hit it down with your glove and forearm. As you do this, counter with your own left jab. As his left arm is now down in front of him, there’s no way he can throw the left hook and you can throw you own counter without worrying about it.”

Jab-Hook Guy kindly throws a few slowish jabs that allow me to get the hang of it. I do. It works. Now I’m not just blocking his jab, I’m telling it it’s no longer welcome ‘round these parts.

Lightbulbs ping on like the end of an Eskom power-failure.

Steve's Boxing Progress Report No. 8: "There Will Be Blood"

A neck recovery bodering on the miraculous meant I sparred again on Saturday arvie. Clever is training 4 guys for Fight Night. "My soldiers" he calls us and we all spar together once a week. One of us bled for the first time on Saturday. Not me, which is always nice. A sharp left hook evaded both the big 16oz gloves we train with and the head guard to land flush on the one guy's nose. The punch wasn't thrown by me either in case you're thinking "nice one Steve"... I'm still manufacturing my left hook. Any way, it results in a bloody nose which Clever swiftly mops up. "Blood and sweat," says Clever without batting an eyelid. "If you want to box, you will always find those two in the ring."

We carry on sparring and the guy's nose continues to dribble a little blood. For the rest of the session you can smell the salty rust in the ring...

17 October

Steve's Boxing Progress Report No. 7: We can label this one "Sometimes You Just Can't Win"... or... "Feck, I'm Getting Old".
My lower back's been acting up lately. Once warmed up it's ok, but after training it gets stiff and sore. Each morning it takes about 15 minutes and at least two cups of tongue-curlingly strong coffee before I feel anything approaching limber. So yesterday morning I go off to Rob Beffa for some treatment. Rob's a chiropractor/physio/acupuncture person with very thick eyebrows and an amazing ability to put bones and muscles back where they should be. Some tweaks, pulls, cracks, and a few well-placed needles later and I can actually tie my shoelaces again. With this new found elasticity, at lunch time I go off to do a boxing class... and in the first 5 minutes pull a muscle in neck. I hold my head in my hands, not only in despair, but also because my neck muscles can no longer support it.
On the upside, I'm getting really good at that snotty-nose noise you're supposed to make every time you throw a punch.

14 October

Steve's Boxing Progress Report No.6: The Spar... more than a shop

I had my first full-on sparring session on Wednesday. I learned this: 1. Sparring for an hour is bladdy tiring. Even if it’s a “2 minutes, sparring, 4 minutes” rest vibe. 2. Big guys hit really, really hard. Little guys... not so much. I got hit really, really hard a few times by a big guy. 3. I had my first real doubts about this boxing thing. Maybe I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. I’m 45 in a couple months…20 years older than most of these guys. 4. It still hurts when you wake up the next morning. 5. At today’s session with Clever I was the sharpest I’ve ever been.

30 September

Steve's Boxing Progress Report No.5: My kingdom for a hook

Last night I sparred with my trainer Clever. Actual boxing sparring as opposed to the verbal type I'm far more used. I learned this... my left hook is terrible. Not so much a hook as a friendly tap on the shoulder. My jab, however, is pretty good. Fast and accurate. A lot like my typing. My aerobic fitness is very good... my punching stamina not so much. I have a helluva lot still to learn.

22 September

Steve's Boxing Progress Report No.4: Boxing Clever

I'm now the proud owner of my own boxing protective head gear. I think it works. My trainer - his name is Clever - gave it a thorough test, repeatedly hitting me on the head during sparring. I only needed two Panados afterwards.

20 August

The Constant Gardener

On test… Honda Jazz Hybrid

As much as the chaps over at Honda might hate it, I’m afraid their cars have something of a, shall we say, “mature” reputation. I’ll show you what I mean...

I say “Honda”.

And do you think: “Ah yes, blue/grey tyre smoke and bullet-train acceleration?” No. Exactly. You’re thinking blue/grey hair and strict adherence to the speed limit.

Yes indeed, Hondas are the sensible shoes of the automobile world. Sure, they’re a little pricey, but they’re very well put together. And like all quality goods, if treated well, a Honda will serve you well for the longest time. The odd Type R or S2000 convertible might get the youngsters going, but on the whole Hondas are the inevitable the car of choice for those of retirement age.

Which is why the new Jazz Hybrid is going to get these folks particularly excited. You see this new car allows to you to do a spot of gardening while you drive… and we all know how much senior citizens like a spot of gardening.

The Jazz Hybrid has a similar drive train as found in its Insight sibling, which is to say it’s powered by a 65 kW, 1.3 litre four-cylinder petrol engine with a supplemental electric motor adding another 10 kW in the mix, all governed by a CVT auto transmission. And this is where the gardening bit comes in. Striving for life on the car’s multi-hued dashboard display are five little tree-shaped lights. Drive with a restrained, sensible-shoe-ensconced right foot and, thanks to the clever piggy-back battery that gets re-charged every time you brake, the little trees will grow. Drive enthusiastically, however, and they slowly die.

It’s senior citizen heaven. And it’s a heaven that’s also had something of a make-over. The new Hybrid features the Jazz range’s mid-life face-lift with a revised front and rear bumpers that improve aerodynamics and a new grill for the Hybrid meant to convey its techy roots. Inside, there have been minor improvements to the Jazz’s somewhat miraculous interior space with its space-saver seats and huge 300-litre boot.

While the senior citizens will love this car, labeling it as only suitable for this niche would be selling the whole Jazz range woefully short. While it may well be perfect for those looking for sensible, hassle free, motoring, the Jazz is also the perfect car for the modern motorist. It’s small, economical, nippy (the CVT auto box is surprisingly good), and has the kind of interior space that borders on the miraculous. It may not be the sexiest small car out there, and certainly not the cheapest, but it is the best.

Which is why you could, if the mood took you, stand up, and in your best JFK voice declare… “Ich bin ein pensioner.”

The Hybrid Jazz Hybrid goes for R244 698 & comes with a 3-year 100,000km warranty and a 4-year 60 000km service plan

As published in the September issue of Kulula's in-flight mag, Khuluma