Cars

The best part of a decade elapsed between Land Rover's unveiling of the 'DC100' concept at the 2011 Frankfurt Motor Show and the first 'New Defenders' hitting the road two years ago just as Covid struck – prompting suggestions that the beefy SUV had arrived 'just in time for Armageddon'. During the interim, thousands of column inches and hours of video were dedicated to predicting what the production version might look like, how it would perform and debating whether or not it could ever truly match the rough-and-ready utilitarian charm of the time-served original.

Readers of a certain age might remember when some car marques were the butt of relentless derogatory jokes. Czech brand Skoda – which has since been brought up-market under VW ownership – was an especially popular victim (Q: 'What do you call a Skoda with a sunroof?' A. 'A skip..') as were Lada (Q. 'How do you avoid a speeding ticket?' A. 'Buy a Lada') and Malaysia's Proton (Q: 'How do you double the value of a Proton?' A. 'Just add petrol.'). But even makers of famously good, solid, reliable cars can be coy about their original brand names when they decide to up their game by trying to penetrate the luxury market – which is why Toyota created Lexus, Nissan invented Infiniti, Honda coined 'Acura' and, more than 100 years ago, Ford adopted the Lincoln nameplate.

Does the future of motoring really lie in electric cars? Battery powered motors are now commonplace, but a few intrepid British drivers have gone for hydrogen fuel cell models instead. They currently have two choices. The £69,495 Hyundai Nexo (28 sales) and the £55k plus Toyota Mirai (about 200 owners including James May), so they’re hardly cheap. Eventually there will be more, including a BMW X5 4x4 due to be launched later in 2022. Jaguar Land Rover is also said to be looking at the technology for its heftier offerings. These cars take minutes to re-fuel, go further between top ups and, unlike battery cars, aren’t adversely affected mileage-wise by cold weather. The only thing they emit is water vapour.

A friend told me recently that the only time she and her husband get passionate these days is when they are yelling abuse at each other across the cup-holders of their Renault Hybrid. He complains that she drives like an anxious old lady while she's convinced he's an entitled prat behind the wheel. During every mangled gear change, every junction missed, every failed three-point turn each reminds the other of his or her imbecility. It's all displacement of course – these disproportionate attacks are never really about whether one of you forgot to indicate. Outside the confines of their hybrid, the couple in question live a life of quiet, seething resentment just like the rest of us.

EVs have been easy to poke fun at over the years. Comedian Chris McCausland has a popular stand-up sketch about how Jaguar spent four years developing a space age noise for its electric i-Pace, only to silence it because people were looking skywards when they heard one coming towards them. And yet, despite their futuristic novelty, society has actually adjusted remarkably quickly to the advent of electric cars; they are fast becoming commonplace on British roads. Last year the Government’s EHVS home charging point grant scheme, which ends on 21 March, helped fund almost 61,480 charging units, and last November just under 19 per cent of Britain’s new car market was taken by electric models. These vehicles are no longer niche.

2030 is the deadline: the end of petrol cars in Britain. Because nothing lasts forever. 'This may be the last petrol car that I design,' said a British marque designer, sketching lines on a napkin wistfully. I threw the napkin in a trunk in the attic for memorial. I have become addicted to petrol cars in these last years because they are so conventionally masculine: driving them feels like theft, and it is mind-altering. If you don’t agree, drive an Aston Martin DB11 round a small bend. It will change you. I could write about the unspoken, unconscious joy of polluting – if you trash a planet it won’t forget you – but, like me, you are probably here for the car. So, electric. So far, I have only driven a Tesla model X.

The British have a long-standing reputation for coming up with great ideas, executing them quite well – and then leaving others to really run with them. Such is the history behind what is officially the best-selling two-seat convertible sports car of all time, the evergreen MX-5 made by Japanese marque Mazda. The story goes that the MX-5 was born out of a conversation held 45 years ago between Mazda's former head of research and development Gai Arai and US automotive journalist Bob Hall. The latter had been bemoaning the impending demise of the simple, open-top sports car after it had been threatened with extinction during the late '60s due to US safety legislation on sales of conventional convertibles.

My twin brother, who is much cooler than I am and lives in Washington, D.C., rolled into the Pennsylvania Wilds, our native land, for a visit recently. There, he offered me the chance to drive his brand-new BMW X1 — a luxury, subcompact, crossover “Sport Activity Vehicle.” The little thing was quick and responsive, so much so that forceful habits formed from driving less state-of-the-art vehicles (read: old) made my driving jerky at first. The front cabin felt wide open with barely-there window pillars. The seats were roomy and comfortable. And once I got used to the light-touch steering and ultra grippy brakes, driving the X1 was pleasant. But man, was this car annoying. For starters, I felt like a caveman trying to get the thing going.