HATCHBACKS WITH STUFFING
Digby Anderson wades through
Motor Show brochures in search of a car he wants
PEUGEOT have a hatchback at the Birm- ingham Motor Show which is 'definitive'. That appears to be the thing with hatch- backs while superminis are 'ultimate'. Fiat's Uno is 'the ultimate Supermini'. Not any hatchback or superrnini, however: the definitive and ultimate are the ones with most initials after, their name and they sport longer lists of 'specifications': in the Peugeot the steering wheel is 'leather- rimmed' and 'a transparent insert is fitted to the car lever over the gate indicator. A two-tone compressed air horn is fitted as standard.' All cars, large and small, with or without transparent inserts, whether two- tone horns are standard or optional, are 'new' and 'exciting'.
The manufacturers all have a 'range'. Renault, for example, has 28 vehicles including 'latest newcomers' and, presum- ably, slightly older newcomers. Increasing- ly the range is described by the more 'exciting' term, line-up'. Line-ups are 'new' and 'exciting' as well but, more important, they are 'comprehensive' and 'trend-setting'.
All, but all the cars have achieved (sorry, Lancia, 'notched up') 'significant success'. Though they do not all have as many initials and numbers after them as the ultimate and definitive cars, all self- respecting cars have at least a G, often an X, L or S (V and E and D are also popular), sometimes an i, which must be lower case, and numbers, lots of them with a decimal point. Much emphasis is given to their wheels. Not the wheels themselves but the wheel covers. There are 'new, stylish aerodynamic wheel trims' (on mod- els with enough initials) and 'alloy sports wheels' (you have to have certain initials for this). 'Aerodynamic' is generally good: 'Drag' is bad. It goes without saying that the 'line-ups' and the 'ranges' have 'flagships'. These usually have initials and numbers before as well as after their names. They have ECT and ABS and are bound to have interiors which provide 'luxurious accommodation with state-of- the-art instrumentation' and an EMV dis- play.
Top marks, though, to Daihatsu. Under- standing that cars only have so many parts which can be called exciting or have initials, they have developed the 'Big bang Fourtrak' which is an 'estate, customised and fitted with the ultimate in luxury and high technology to create a fully operation- al office [with] facilities for executive, client and secretary . . . computer with word-processing, printer, cellular tele- phones, data transmission modem, Topic machine . . . direct access to Air Call's paging network and a visual pager with printing facility'. The 'specifications' for that should exhaust the alphabet: I wonder what sort of wheel covers it has.
But I am not going to buy one. In fact none of this business of line-ups, cruise controls, remote control door mirrors, initials and digital clocks, let alone the business of whether the car 'develops' as one might a cold, so many hs and ps, has anything to do with the depressing ordeal of buying a car, at least of someone like me buying a car. It is not going to settle things one way or the other whether this one does and that one doesn't have 'door panels. . . finished in Alcantara, a washable material with all the qualities of suede'. The real battle is not between this and that make or model but between customer and car salesman.
Now some contributors to the Spectator affect a rather sneering tone when talking of people like car salesmen — or indeed their cousins the estate agents. And it has been said that this is not fair: our country facing a highly competitive world economy cannot afford to have arty intellectuals, Who may well have had a private educa- tion, sneering at the striving arrivist classes and unkindly dismissing them as Smart Alecs, let alone laughing at their addiction to initials. Let me tell you, as a sneerer who has just bought a motor-car from a salesman, that if there is any sympathy going, it is we sneerers who should have it not the smarties. We may occasionally make the odd weak joke at their expense, but once every four years when we change the car, they have their revenge. In any battle between the snobs and smarties, it is the latter who win hands down.
The battle starts at home. The current car must be replaced. We would like another one the same. Already the other Side are ahead of us: the model has been discontinued. What new model to buy? Acquire brochures. Much talk of `defini- lives' and 'ultimates', many initials, puz- zling details about torques and the like. Seek advice. The advice boils down to this, that most modern cars are really quite good, the differences between different makes of the same type quite small. The advisor, having been worse than useless, cannot resist adding that 'it all depends on What we want from a car'.
Thank God for prejudice. Somehow we have to eliminate at least some of these brochures and makes. Mrs Anderson re- vives her dislike of things Japanese. I counter with a suggestion that we also eliminate all their Axis allies and the neutral countries. Out go Toyota, Volks- wagen, Saab, Volvo and the mobile office. We'd like to make an exception of the Italians but the Fiat we hired there in the summer not only broke down but did so at Margherita di Savoia, the biggest salt- works in Europe and not much else. Out goes the 'ultimate' in superminis. We tried British cars twice in the Sixties and they did not work, which leaves the French. Things are now looking simpler. One tries to affect a casual air in the garage but one has secretly done a certain amount of terminological homework. 'I'm thinking of buying a used GTX, something which has done about 10,000 miles, some- time in the next couple of months, nothing to trade in.' Now at this point, according to legend, the salesman should swing into excited action keen to secure his sale.
'We haven't got any.'
Will you have any in soon?' 'I shouldn't think so,' he says, picking up the phone to speak to someone else.
Perhaps it was rash to rule out British cars. The next garage is Ford's. There the salesman is sitting on the table swinging his legs. I suggest one car. He immediately suggests another costing £2,000 more. I explain that it is too much. He corrects me: the car is very cheap; it is 'a lot of motor-car for the money'. He has 'knocked all the stuffing out of it'. This is not one you will find in the brochures. 'Sorry, stuffing?' He looks scornful. 'Stuffing' apparently is profit. He wants to clear it. Something to do with 'plates'. Back to a much bigger garage. Here they have what I might want but since I'm not sure there is still plenty of scope for him to tell me what that is. He doesn't seem very interested. Nowhere do I encounter the supposed high-pressure business. Even the banter is half-hearted. It is as if he knows customers, particularly my sort, expect salesman to banter so he does a bit to prove he is genuine, but there isn't a flood of it like there is in the brochures. Real banter is a language between car people not, as often suggested, to cajole the ignorant. He just throws out tokens. This model has the in-car entertainment system (wireless) with satellite. 'Pardon?' He looks very tired and points to a knob whereby the driver can alter the radio without stretching. 'Satellite'. We find a car with special wheel covers (he does brighten a little at this). We wander round more or less identical cars. Eventually I choose one which, I suspect, he had chosen for me to choose. We look at it. It's clear I'm expected to do something. What? As I ask to see under the bonnet, I realise it is a mistake. What am I expected to do when it is opened? I bend and say `Mmm', I hope, knowingly and non-committally. It's no use, he's gone off to answer the telephone. I wait ten minutes by it, staring at the open bonnet.
Now comes die bit they all warn about. 'Don't forget to get a sizable discount, particularly if you have nothing to sell.' I try to get a tiny one. It's no contest really. Not only do I leave knowing I have paid too much but I know he was so sure of winning with someone like me that he did not even have to make an effort. I don't think he even used one initial. Smarties can sneer too, you know, and make money at the same time.
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