Cars maketh the family?

I have the automotive version of ADD.

I am one of those people who simply hate having the same car longer than a year. I get very bored very quickly.

In the past 3 years I have gone from a Mini to an Astra. A Jeep Wrangler to Audi A4. Each one had its own personality – barring the Astra, which had non. In fact the Astra is the Al Gore of cars...it makes a great back up but don’t expect to lead the pack.

The Mini was sporty and fun – it looked like it was a blast to drive and it was. It lived up to its reputation as a car that would put a smile on your face. Dressed it up in sexy alloys and a few go-faster stripes, the Mini looked a cut above the rest, turned heads and as a friend of mine succinctly put it, “ cornered like it was on rails”.

The Mini’s problem was that it was a 2-door.It wasn’t exactly J Lo when it came to boot space and when you’re 6 foot 3, getting in and out looked a bit daft…and if I am completely honest a bit gay. There is no way to “alight” from a mini and look manly…trust me I have tried every combination.

On practical level, it was safe to say the Mini had to go.

It was replaced by a more respectable and more manly Astra. While the Opel lacked the class and culture of the Mini, it did make up for its lack of personality with four-doors, boot space that, by comparison, rivaled the Kimberly hole and a multi-functional steering wheel. Granted the Mini had the multifunctional wheel, but it was like pressing buttons on one of those very small Casio keyboards…without the “Bossanova” drum beat option.

The Astra’s steering wheel was thick to the grip and had the sturdy feel of a ships tiller. Sadly it drove the same.

“Thick” and “ship” were words that related well to the Astra. While I didn’t expect much performance from the 1600 engine, I did expect some stickiness when throwing the car into a corner. Driving the Capes’ coastal roads saw the same “negotiation” skills as delivered in a Cosatu strike. I literally had to plead and beg the car around the bends. Grovel to eject it from a corner at pace. And then Genuflect and pray to gain speed again, as I lollopped into the next curve.

True the car had boot space and fuel economy that would make a rickshaw blush, but that was as far as it went. It was a blunt instrument with room for a golf bag, a wife and three kids. Nothing more.

Besides that I missed my car been an extension of my personality…and before you say it, no, the Mini didn’t say “small and tight”.
I needed something that spoke to the world. Something that didn’t say “I work in IT and own a spaniel”; that didn’t give off overwhelming wiff’s of “it’s my mums car but she said I could borrow it if I was careful”.

This is where the Jeep comes in. It’s the Sly Stallone of cars. Impractical, devastating on the Earths eco-system and simply hideous to drive but everyone at some stage of their lives wants to own one.

A four-liter brute, with an American made automatic box and a ride height that made you feel as though you were hunting invading Pygmy tribes.

The front literally lurches when you floor the engine from a standing start. The engine block made the entire chassis sway from violently from side to side simply by turning the ignition. It was great. Totally impractical. But great.

When it rained you could play in puddles with the equivalent glee of a 3 year old in Wellington boots. When the sun was out, simply hoist the top off (with the help of 2 or 8 of your closest mates) and cruise Camps bay main road with a Cheshire cat grin.

Yes it had its small, niggly points. Like the lack of storage space…anywhere. The boot was slightly larger than a Coleman’s cooler box. There was “bucket” storage in between the front seats – it was deep and very useful…if you could get anything past the insanely small opening at the top – it was like inverted funnel.

The petrol consumption was ugly too. One road trip to Arniston would single handedly fund OPEC for a month. The back passenger seat was more like a church pew with cushioning and it handled like a whale on roller-skates.

Like Anna Nicole Smith, the Wrangler was sexy and fun, but at the end of the day nobody wants to be in a long relationship with it. There was just too much baggage to enjoying it. Too many trips to the gas station. At the very best it made a great weekend vehicle…it just doesn’t do “trips” to the mall obligingly.

The Audi is a perfect blend of big V6 motoring with the creature comforts. It’s like driving a very fast leather couch. Like an expensive Swiss chocolate, it’s classy, luxurious and smooth. It eats up the road with a refined blend of speed and brute confidence. It’s understated. It’s the Superman of cars. By day it’s a mild manner sedan, with boot space, family legroom and a cup-holders but beneath its veneer exterior its 3.0 liter engine does 0 to 100 in just over 6.7 seconds…that’s a lot of Vorsprung shifted very quickly for a family car.

So what you may ask is my problem? I seem to have found a perfect blend of luxury and performance. The surf-and-turf of rides. Smart enough to rock up at a black tie event and yet edgy enough to throw the surfboards on the roof and not think twice

My problem is this. I need a change. I am craving the unorthodox once more. I need something that is impractical – overbearing and downright over rated.

My eyes have strayed across the new 4-door Wrangler, Alfas’s beast of a GT or perhaps, to keep it in the family the new TT.

All are great vehicles – all equally impractical and needlessly more than they need to be as transport. All great choices in my mind. Except things have changed. I am married now and although that, in its self, would not stop either of us from buying any of the above, the thought using any one of them as a “family car” is insane.

Both the GT and the TT are 2-doors and don’t have very big back seats for baby’s and boots for prams. The Wrangler wouldn’t work. The kids would need a climbing harness just to get in and out.

I am stuck between a rock and hard place. If and when we start having kids, do we just use the wife’s more practical 4-door for transporting tots and use my “mid-life crisis” car for weekend getaway’s and tootling to the office.

Do I trade mine in for a Volvo estate? An Audi Avant or a perhaps a Toyota Camry just to fit in with the Constantia-set at the school gates?

I realize that we are not pregnant yet. I realize I am planning my next automotive move, around an unborn, yet-to-be conceived egg; however I am desperately worried that once the nappies are out of the bag and the breast-pumps are doing whatever they do, that I will be too focused on being safety conscious and Swedish in my approach to buying a new car.

I need to act now before my biggest want and desire from a car is enough room for a pram and more airbags than a jumpy castle.

I need big tires, oversized engines and no rear legroom! It’s imperative.









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