Alan Judd

Bond had no need for thought. He’d seen it as a concept in Detroit and Geneva in 2006. Now that it existed, he wanted it. He spoke once more, ‘Get it.’ Then added, very quietly, ‘Please.’ Bond was right to insist. When I first saw designer Marek Reichman’s concept Rapide in Geneva, I thought it possibly the most beautiful four-door car on the planet. We weren’t allowed to touch it, let alone drive it, and if Ford still owned Aston Martin we’d probably still be waiting for it. But the marque’s new owners gave it the green light and the result is — well, possibly the most beautiful four-door car on the planet, as well as one of the fastest (188mph, 0–60 in 5.1).

A weekly airdrop of Exchange & Mart was the luxury I used to think I’d choose when the producers of Desert Island Discs realised who they’d been missing all these years. A weekly airdrop of Exchange & Mart was the luxury I used to think I’d choose when the producers of Desert Island Discs realised who they’d been missing all these years. But now, I fear, it would be access to eBay, that wonderful source of 24-hour auto-porn, plus everything else. Just to browse — I’d have nothing to bid with, of course, though that needn’t stop me. Wonderful though eBay is, it should be negotiated with care.

Seven hundred miles now in the borrowed Bristol 410 and I’ve loved every yard of it. Seven hundred miles now in the borrowed Bristol 410 and I’ve loved every yard of it. It’s poised, tolerant, powerful and very comfortable, now that I’ve removed the sunroof windshield that was threatening to scalp me. The elegantly understated lines make you feel you’re driving your club, appreciated by those who know, unrecognised by those who don’t (fortunately it handles rather better than the club would). In fact, the handling continues to surprise, partly because the wide, old-fashioned wheel makes you more conscious of steering, while the naturally aspirated 5.2 Chrysler V8 burbles and hums with unstressed power.

Two visitors this month. One, the latest iteration of the VW Polo, now in its fifth generation and with ten million Polo ancestors. The other, a 1968 Bristol 410 whose ancestors can probably be numbered in the hundreds and siblings in scores, maybe dozens. The first was for a week, courtesy of VW, the second is for a few months, courtesy of a friend who wants to sell but wants it used while he’s away. Think Polo and you think smaller Golf, runabout, district nurses, retired primary- school teachers, reliable, sensible choice for modest budgets.

If Milton had owned a Land Rover he’d never have vanquished Satan and his fallen angels to nether regions of rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens and shades of death. If Milton had owned a Land Rover he’d never have vanquished Satan and his fallen angels to nether regions of rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens and shades of death. He’d have known that they could have had too much fun with the right wheels, as I did recently among the rocks, lakes, fens etc. of the 54,000 acre Roxburgh estate. Along with, I should add, 679 other motoring hacks, between 60 to 80 Land Rover staff and 80 vehicles.

The Golf GTI was unveiled in Frankfurt 34 years ago this month. If the ordinary Golf saved VW — ailing because Beetle sales were in long-term decline — then the GTI was the icing that made millions more want the cake. Planned as a limited edition of 5,000, it has gone on to sell 1.7 million worldwide (217,214 in the UK). Its effects spread well beyond itself. It wasn’t only that there were numerous buyers for the fashionable sporty version of what might otherwise have been seen as a humdrum hatchback (unpromisingly called ‘Rabbit’ in the US), but that the existence of this fashionable extra cast a glow of desire across the entire range. Celebrities such as the late Douglas Adams were given them on extended loan so that they could be seen in them.

Our monsoon season brings not only cricket delays but also a flowering of local classic-car shows. Testimony to nostalgic enthusiasm, they prompt the reflection that man is never more innocently engaged than when he values something for what it is, rather than for what he can get out of it. Not that the classic-car world has ever been immune to investors seeking to translate value in the usual way. Indeed, now may be a good time if you’ve a few thousand earning no interest somewhere. Judging by record auction prices at Brightwells, Leominster, classic cars have held up pretty well during the recession, especially at the top end (though Rolls and Bentley are harder to shift).

Driving means manipulating a dangerous piece of machinery at speeds beyond anything for which evolution has prepared you, reacting to a multitude of visual signals and warnings, calibrating and recalibrating velocity, distance, direction and stability, all the time guessing the intentions and anticipating the possible actions of unnumbered others performing the same tasks in the same places at the same times. And this while talking, listening, daydreaming, trying to work out where you are and where you should be. Yet we know that as we get older we get worse at most things. Surely age affects this too?

The elderly lady in the little Skoda reversed cautiously in the supermarket car park, then sharply accelerated into the car behind. Next she accelerated sharply forwards into the car adjacent to the space she had left. She repeated her reverse manoeuvre into a third car, then her forward manoeuvre — this time while trying to turn — into a fourth. Bouncing off that, she maintained forward momentum until finally halted by collision with a passing Discovery. The Discovery was mine, under temporary command of my wife who, hearing bangs and seeing people running for cover, slowed and looked round in time to see the Skoda torpedo streaking towards her port beam. Damage to the Discovery was slight — a bent rear panel and cracked bumper — to the Skoda, significant.

I’m no sharpshooter but molehills aren’t mountains, and at 100 yards over open sights, when you’re standing unsupported, a slither of white plastic stuck into one looks vanishingly small along the barrel of a Winchester 30-30. I’m no sharpshooter but molehills aren’t mountains, and at 100 yards over open sights, when you’re standing unsupported, a slither of white plastic stuck into one looks vanishingly small along the barrel of a Winchester 30-30. That’s the sort of rifle — almost a carbine — you might have seen John Wayne twiddling around his finger in ancient westerns, though I wouldn’t fancy firing with one hand.

I tested the old Freelander when it first came out, taking it up the M6 into the Shropshire hills and returning with backache. That apart, I thought it a good car in four-door form, as did plenty of others — it became Europe’s best-selling smallish 4x4. But I and they were wrong: a component that would have cost a few pence to improve in manufacture meant that the majority of petrol versions had coolant problems requiring new engines at some stage (one dealer I know replaced 60), while build quality of petrols and diesels alike meant that the trim disintegrated around you. For Land Rover lovers such as me, they were an embarrassment. Will I be as wrong about the new version, Freelander 2, tested last week?

With Ford posting losses of over $10 billion, Honda shutting its Swindon factory until June and fields full of unsold cars, we might be excused for thinking that doom and gloom is here to stay. But we shouldn’t, and we can start changing it now. Probably you’re not thinking of buying a new car today, but what could change your mind? Price. If Ford or Honda were to offer 50 per cent reductions on cars bought in February, more of us would dare to spend. And if they offered 0 per cent finance for the same period (like Citroën and Toyota, on selected models), that would help. Most people, after all, are still employed and will remain so, particularly those in our huge public sector.