As a lifetime member of Urbanites Anonymous and a general supporter of public transit and green technologies, I’m supposed to hate cars. They pollute, they’re wildly inefficient at getting people where they need to go, and they cause major traffic snarls that impede everything using the road, including many forms of transit and bikes. Urban planning has ben car-centric for so long that we’re only starting to move away from the idea that massive highway interchanges in the middle of a city are a bad idea. And then there’s the whole SUV phenomenon.
So, adamantly not a fan of cars. Except that I love cars.
It probably all goes back to the huge stack of Road & Track issues my dad used to have, but even today I can point out most of the models on North American roads today (although Buick seems to have completely changed the names of all their models, if the latest ads are to be believed). I only recently stopped making the yearly pilgrimmage to the Canadian International Auto Show. And while I don’t get a huge kick out of amped-up Camaros and cool ground effects like some friends I know, I can still appreciate the beauty of a slick stealth Golf GTI.
If you really want to be a car nut, though, the right way to do it is to follow the lead of the British. There’s a fundamental difference in the way cars are treated here versus in Europe; just look at the car enthusiast media in North America and in the UK. Watching Motorweek (whether it’s the Speed Channel version or the good ol’ PBS edition) is downright depressing these days. It’s obvious the formula hasn’t changed very much in the past two decades: take one bland review of a car, throw in some good ol’ timey advice from Pat Goss, maybe throw a crappy Craig Singhaus nostalgia-fest, and then top it all off with “this week’s Motor News,” the show’s excuse to trot out the token female reporter of the month to recite Honda’s latest press release.
It’s a dreary experience if you don’t care about the 0-60 times for the Ford Exploderation or don’t feel like sitting through yet another segment on Route 66. And Motorweek isn’t the only show to make these cardinal mistakes. Everything from Autoweek in the U.S. to Motoring 2005 (or whatever year it happens to be when the show airs) in Canada is just as boring and lightweight. What’s more, there’s a distinct lack of enthusiasm and joy. Maybe these guys really do enjoy their cars, but you’d be hard-pressed to tell from the presenters.
Contrast this with two of Britain’s biggest car shows, Top Gear on the BBC and Fifth Gear on Channel Five. Having seen some episodes of Fifth Gear, I can only comment on Channel Five’s offering, but the team behind Fifth Gear used to work on Top Gear’s previous incarnation. The two shows are linked by a common pihlosophy, even if the two are very different beasts.
The first thing you notice is the team of presenters. These people love cars, and it shows. Everyone’s got a CV as long as a Maybach on the show, from Tiff Needell’s long Formula 1 career to Vicki Butler-Henderson’s many writing and racing stints. Oh, right, there’s another thing—if you’re looking for equal representation in automobile shows, the British are a lot better at it than the Americans are. Hell, Vicki can drive circles around anyone on the American shows.
But it’s not just the fact that these people know how to drive properly. It’s also the enthusiasm they bring to the job. Tom Ford is truly a catch; he’ll make you care about how that SUV handles on the road, even if you’ve no interest in ever driving one yourself. He’s funny yet informative, free to concentrate on how the car drives and fits into your life versus wondering how fast the stupid thing accelerates on a test course. What’s more, he actually gives you a sense not only of things like how much legroom’s in the car and other practical concerns, but he’ll also give you an impression of what it’ll be like to truly drive it. Does it handle well? Do you feel like you’re in control, or does the car feel sluggish and unresponsive? How does the real-wheel-drive pan out? Is the traction control a help or a hinderance? And most importantly, is it an enjoyable drive?
The entire show has an emphasis on whether a car is a joy or a downer, and it speaks to a whole different way of looking at cars. It’s also a perspective you’d think would be an American one, since Americans probably spend more time in their cars and would thus be a little more concerned about enjoying their time in them. But the British shows value a car’s ability to handle the back roads of the Isles, and yet still gives attention to whether the back seat folds down completely or not. The act of driving is a more holistic experience for the Brits, and I can’t say they’re really wrong to think that way.
And this philosophy doesn’t just apply to the Ferraris and Porsches they drive, either. Top Gear’s car of the year was the new Golf GTI, a vehicle that is practical yet exciting to drive. And while Motor Trend arguably has a better choice in the Toyota Prius, I’ll bet Top Gear made the better case. Car Magazine did a feature article on the new Ford Focus to see if it lived up to its predecessor. But here’s the thing—to North Americans, the Focus is a compact car of little consequence. Sure, it’s nice and (now) decently built, but what’s so exciting about a little hatchback that you can use to pick up the kids? Well, the Brits don’t see it that way—instead, they see a car that embodies some of the same driving principles Ford puts into its Focus rally car. Yeah, you heard me—the Focus rally car. To Europeans, the Focus isn’t a bog-standard midsize saloon like the Mondeo was (remember that car? It was the Contour here in the U.S.). It’s a vehicle on par with the Subaru Impreza, complete with its own racing heritage. And Car treats it as such.
It speaks volumes to me when magazines and television shows argue over the driving qualities of a tiny car like the Smart, or a mini-MPV like the Vauxhall Zafira. Driving for pleasure isn’t just something you do when you’ve got miles of country roads to cruise on a Sunday afternoon; it’s part and parcel of the car-owning experience. And while Fifth Gear’s review of the BMW 1-series claimed most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the BMW’s rear-drive capabilities and the standard front-drive chassis, they eventually gave the vehicle a thumbs-up. After all, there are people out there that wouldn’t mind being able to let the back out a little on those UK B-roads once in a while.