Having recently resumed my career after taking a year's sabbatical from motoring journalism, I can list 10 things that I dearly missed about the automotive world…
1) The freedom
Never mind what Robert Pirsig wrote in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. One can experience a sense of freedom at the wheels of the humblest of hatchbacks or clapped-out Corollas. Take a drive just for the sheer sake of it – explore back roads and byways, and be the master of your own direction.
Remember, it wasn't so much the Declaration of Independence or the Civil War that emancipated America, but the spindly old Model T certainly did the trick.
2) The smell
Call me a wannabe or lightweight petrolhead if you will, but it’s not so much the aromas of hot oil and scorching brake pads that transport me into an olfactory automotive wonderland… It's the whiff of leather.
Let me put it this way: When an a Mercedes-Benz C55-owning acquaintance recently visited me, the rich smell of his AMG's interior swept me along a tsunami of nostalgia to everything from the cosseting cabins of Bentleys to even the sub-grade leather trim of budget-beating Chinese entrants.
3) Playing fantasy garage
I once read once about a PoW who clung to his sanity and survived incarceration by mentally building his dream house brick by brick. In my darkest moments, I have sought solace in my dream garage – so strictly speaking that wasn’t something I missed so much as took refuge in.
Of course, every petrolhead plays “fantasy garage” occasionally, but what differentiated this game is that its total value couldn’t exceed an eminently reasonable million bucks, precluding more predictable inclusions such as new Ferraris or pre-war blower Bentleys.
First candidate? A pristine mid-1980s Mercedes 500 SL, in white or gunmetal. This is hardly a new infatuation. I’ve been taken with this shape – immortalised by any number of screen stars, including Bobby Ewing in Dallas – since my teens. I estimate it would cost R180 000 to get a decent low-mileage model dating close to the end of the shape’s extraordinarily long model life (nearly two decades).
Next, a 1970 Ford Mustang Grande. I know the precise car I want, too (resplendent in California Orange, if you please). It’s beautifully restored to original spec and the fact that it was born in the same year as I was is as appealing as its V8 rumble. Around R200 000 should do the trick.
Of course, I’ve wanted a Rolls-Royce or Bentley almost since I could say the word “car” and a Corniche DHC or Arnage T would be wonderful. But budgets are budgets, so it would very likely have to be a 1980s Bentley Turbo R, and I think R300 000 should secure a pristine one. In royal blue.
If not, I’d rather have an utterly immaculate Rolls Silver Spirit for the same money instead of a tatty Turbo. These things drink dipsomaniacally, however, so it would be used only for “posh” – as Wilbur Smith remarked of his own Spirit when I interviewed him a decade ago.
Sensibility hasn’t been forsaken. To transport my dogs and paddle-ski, canoe and bicycles, the Subaru Forester wins. The allocated R200 000 should buy a reasonable second-hand XS. White, please.
I'd spend another R110 000 on a really immaculate BMW R1200 GS – a machine that I’ve had a great attachment to ever since owning an earlier model almost two decades ago – and the remaining R10 000 will be invested on a mid-range mountain-bike.
Sorted, for a fleet likely to provide a lifetime of entertainment. Only the Forester and the BMW – by virtue of not being appreciating classics but daily workhorses – would be eligible for trade-in after a few years.
4) Harleys
I red-lined the budget playing “fantasy garage,” so I couldn’t include one of these Milwaukee monsters.
All the same, over the past few years I’ve sampled the model range extensively – and developed a deep affinity for Harley tourers that truly reach their apogee when ridden with Johnny Cash trickling over their on-board sound systems and those massive V-twins thudding away like leviathan heartbeats.
5) Open-top motoring
Perhaps I lack imagination, but there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, that compares to gliding along with the wind in your hair (if you have any). The last convertible I had on test, a Chrysler Sebring, was slated on many fronts, and I suppose it’s a rather flashy and lethargic beast. But on a twisting country road, on a pollen-spattered spring afternoon, it's sublime.
6) The hammer-song of a V8
The feline scream of a straight-six is glorious. And the thrum of a flat-four gripping, but few things beat the bellow of a V8, whether it’s an elderly Range Rover roaring in rage or the shriek of a Ferrari F355. Best of all, however, is the heavy-metal thud of a big block of Detroit iron, which explains why the Mustang made my list.
7) In-car entertainment
No, I’m not talking about mega-watt doef doef sound systems, but rather the soothing strains of Vivaldi, Verdi and company, especially as I’m convinced that there’s a close correlation between big, brash sound and road rage.
Meanwhile, one of the best mileage-munchers isn’t just a quality cruiser – but an audio book.
Last time I drove an extended distance, I listened to a recorded version of George Eliot’s Silas Marner. I’d never quite conquered the print version, but the audio one came alive. And at the end of the lengthy journey I actually stayed in the car to hear the end of it.
8) Car launches
It seems incredible, seeing that I once regarded new model launches as work. And anything that took me away from home for a night or more – never mind overseas – I regarded as onerous.
But I now sorely miss the camaraderie of car launches, the air travel, the smart hotels and, above all, the vehicles and the feeling of being on the cutting-edge of the automotive world.
9) Automatic transmissions
A while ago I went car shopping with a mate, who was considering everything from VW Tiguans to Volvo S40s. While testing an automatic model, he airily remarked to the rather confused salesman that he preferred to “outsource gear-changing.”
I concur. Manually mushing gears seems stupid in an age of high-tech, multi-ratio auto boxes to do your bidding, and I can’t really imagine why one'd voluntarily buy a manual model, unless of course it was a rare and collectable classic.
10) Racetracks
Call me cautious, but I’m possibly the only motoring writer in South Africa who’ll get something like a Maserati to test and then not exceed 120 km/h.
My automotive nirvana doesn't only consist of go-devil sportsters, tortured tyres and serpentine switchbacks. I also enjoy wafting along in luxo barges, which partly accounts for my captivation with the cars from Crewe.
Having said all that, I still hanker after the visceral thrill of hurtling around a racetrack, working in close harmony with a finely engineered piece of metal.
James Siddall is a freelance motoring writer, to contact him click here