On my fridge I keep a test schedule. That is, a breakdown of the press vehicles I’m due to receive on test. Most cars are kept for a week and run consecutively. One goes back to whence it came and is promptly replaced by another.
The list stretches about two, sometimes three, months ahead and contains a mixed bag of luxo-mobiles, runabouts, double-cab pickups, SUVs and, very occasionally, a sportscar.
Working from home, as I do, I make frequent trips to the fridge, often in the futile hope that when I open it, some tempting snack that wasn’t there before an hour ago will have miraculously materialised. And every time I do, I glance at my test schedule.
There are so few irredeemably bad cars left in production that I almost never face the prospect of getting a vehicle that’s going to be a chore to drive for a week. But there are some vehicles that I, of course, look forward to more than others – and they are almost exclusively automatics.
Right now, for instance, I have in my driveway a new Volvo S60 2,0T Powershift. It’s the second S60 I’ve had on test of late – the first being a D5 – and I’m scheduled for another in a little over a week from writing.
It’s a good car – no, a great car.
In the compact executive segment it occupies, along with the likes of the BMW 3 Series and the Mercedes C-Class, it’s arguably my favourite. It’s less obvious than the dynamically brilliant BMW, and perhaps carries less status than the Mercedes, which is not a bad thing at all for advocates of inconspicuous consumption.
Were I shopping in this bracket, I think the Swede’s restrained elegance and it’s very slightly left-of-centre appeal would arrest me. It’s certainly stylish, spacious and very, very well made. Little wonder, then, that I’ve asked for one as a long-term car. I’ll let you know how that goes …
My only criticism is that doesn’t come with a spare wheel – not even a space-saver – but a can of sealant. Shred a low-profile Continental far from a tyre shop stocking the correct rubber and there are going to be tears.
But I digress. What I really like about the S60 I have at the moment is that it’s automatic.
Just as diesels – specifically turbodiesels – are light years ahead of the stodgy old oil-burners of yore, so today’s slush-boxes are infinitely ahead of the clunky, lumpy, power-sapping three-speed ‘boxes of yesteryear.
The S60 2,0T Powershift, for instance, has six ratios, which is not at all uncommon in an era of seven- and even eight-speed automatics, and according to the CAR Guide it’s actually a bit quicker to 100km/h than its manual sibling.
Most of all, it’s relaxing to drive. As with any good automatic, it doesn’t induce somnolence so much as calm. Driving to the dentist yesterday, for instance, I was stuck behind a slow-moving truck in foul weather. And I was late for my appointment.
Yet with one hand on the steering wheel, and one foot on the pedal, smoothly modulating my progress, I felt not a hint of the stress I would almost certainly have felt in a manual car.
And part of that stress would have been born of having to lend excessive input into the driving process, all the while knowing that manually mushing gears when auto ‘boxes exist is as stupid as rowing a boat when outboards proliferate.
Of course, with most automatics today you can switch to a sports mode for quicker gear-changes and even change gear manually and sequentially which, to me, does rather defeat the point of the object.
Of course, slush boxes normally carry a mild premium on price and fuel consumption. The sweetly balanced S60 2,0T is about 16 grand more than its manual counterpart, although according to CAR it bucks the trend and is actually more economical.
Indeed, two-pedal motoring seems so much more civilised and grown-up than the alternative – and the only stress in driving an automatic comes when ill-informed cretins speculate that they’re for “old men” …
