“Neck-snapping acceleration” and “eyeball-popping brakes” are two of the more popular - and ridiculous – phrases used to describe a car’s performance. Now, if we’re talking 400bhp supercars which weigh about a tonne, well, I’ll give them that. 90-odd bhp booted boxes however, are a recipe for rubbish. The “most-est” car I’ve driven, yet, is the 453bhp Rolls Royce Phantom. A portly 2.3 tonnes she may be, but she possesses a swiftness and stateliness that belies her size. It will be the most expensive car I’ve driven to date, and I don’t think I’ll come around to topping the price factor for a long-long time, but it is the most powerful car I’ve driven till date. I hope to change that soon.
But I digress. This is not a “I’ve driven ABC” story. No, this is a rant against the sheer paucity of anything worth driving here, at home, in India. Yes, we have Porsches, and yes we have Ferrari coming soon, and Bentley’s been around for a bit and blah blah blah. But, we have nothing which is “affordable”. Nothing which is “fun”. We content ourselves with performance hatchbacks which promise neck-snapping acceleration and eyeball-popping brakes. Ooh.
Why can’t we drive Nissan 350Zs and GT-Rs and Mitsu Evos and Scoobies and Mustangs and Chargers for the 15-20 lakh rupees they cost in the developed world? Why, pray, must we drive rubbish econoboxes for god-earthly sums of money? The recently-launched Fabia costs nine lakhs, for example. And has 72 or 73 or 75 bhp or whatever. Yes, it has fine handling, and a nice gearbox. For a hatch. But it’s no sportscar, for crying out loud. It’s not even a sporty car.
But let me get back to the hot hatches. The ones with the neck-snapping acceleration and eyeball-popping brakes. The Palio Stile 1.6 boasts one hundred bee aitch pee. And weighs over a tonne. And accelerates to 100kph in 11 seconds. And returns 8 kilometres to a litre of fuel in the process. Are you serious? Why would you buy this shit? It’s not fast, it’s not fuel-efficient. Which means it’s a rubbish car.
Then there’s the Swift. Very nice to look at, but then you’ll go and paint the mirrors white and plaster the union jack on the roof. And – this phrase is a personal favourite – you’ll bolt on a fruity exhaust. And wring that ancient Suzuki four-pot to get some semblance of a move on. And fry the clutch in the process, coz that’s what all Swifts do. “Why can’t Maruti get the Swift Sport to India?” goes the average coffee-time whine. So you can have 300 cee cee more and maybe another 20 bhp. Well, they have the now-dead Baleno’s 1.6 lying around, don’t they? And while you’re at it, Maruti, how ‘bout a better clutch?
No, we’re confined to a range of rubbish cars. We have choice, sure, but nothing that’s worth buying. Or owning. Or driving. While I’m at it, let me unleash another left-hook. Buy a bike. For thrills, nothing comes close. No power-to-weight computations matter when you have in excess of 150 bhp and a single tyre to put it to the ground. Even if you weigh a 120 kilos yourself. Sure it’s scary, and hell yeah it’s dangerous, but what the fuck, you die only once. At least you’ll die happy. God bless you, Yamaha.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
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