I’ve managed to completely forget how to drive. And since that was a split
infinitive, it seems I’ve forgotten completely how to write as well. The
driving thing is more of a worry. In the past couple of days, I’ve pulled
out onto roundabouts even though I could see perfectly well that a car was
coming. I’ve jumped red lights. I’ve parallel-parked like I was using the
force and then yesterday, while reversing up a one-way street to shout at a
bus driver, I backed, with a sickening crunch, into some poor chap’s Volvo.
My progress from the wilds of Huddersfield to the confines of Sloane Square
has been set against a tuneless cacophony of blaring horns, furious parking
sensor alerts, squealing tyres, rending metal and hurled abuse.
We see this kind of thing in sportsmen. They train, reach a peak of physical
fitness and then, one day, for no obvious reason, they’re unable to perform
properly. Of course, this doesn’t matter. It means only that they’ll lose
the game. But on the road, the consequences can be far more serious. So why
does it happen?
I’ve checked my horoscopes and none warns me to stay off the roads until the
moon rises up out of Venus. I have no money or family worries. The job
trundles on. And yet I can’t drive. So I’ve been forced to revisit an issue
that last reared its head about 20 years ago. Biorhythms.
It is said that the ancient Greeks first attempted to explain mood swings
3,000 years ago but it wasn’t until around 1900 that a psychologist and a
doctor worked out why people in perfect physical health with no worries
could sometimes feel unhappy. They reckoned that from birth we go though
intellectual, physical and emotional cycles. Each works on a different time
frame but there are occasions when all three are at a low ebb. This makes us
muddle-headed and depressed and unable to park a Range Rover properly.
Back in the early 1980s the Daily Mail got hold of the story and for a
while everyone was talking about it. Except me. I thought it was just
another load of ley line, tarot card, Area 51, weird beard twaddle. And I
uncovered further evidence to support this scepticism the other day when I
consulted an internet biorhythm planner to find that my ideal partners —
people with exactly the same “waves” — are Uma Thurman (good) and Kim
Jong-il (not so good).
However, I fed my birth date into the system and, bugger me, for the past
three days all three of my charts have been bumping along the bottom. In
essence, I’ve been driving up and down the M1 in a two-ton Range Rover even
though I have been a weeping, slobbering wreck with the co-ordination of a
half-set jelly.
I was, at this point, going to bring up Carole Caplin and some conjecture on
what she might do to solve the problem. On an ordinary day, it would have
been shrewd and incisive, but today, with my head full of wallpaper paste, I
can’t seem to make any worthwhile link.
So I shall move on to the practical and cheap Ford Ka. Even though it looks
like a teapot, it’s been a huge success in Britain, taking nearly half of
all the sales in its class.
Recently, it was improved with the fitting of an electronic milometer, a
low-fuel warning light, and, on luxury models, a rev counter and a wash wipe
facility for the windscreen. This does beg a question. What the hell did it
come with before?
There’s a similar issue under the bonnet. The new engine will get you from
0-62mph in 13.7sec, which is so slow you could start off on a biorhythm high
and by the time you were going past 40, be convinced you are no good at your
job and that everyone hates you. Also, if this is the best the new engine
can do, how gutless was the old one?
You might think that a solution to these shortfalls can be found with the
Sportka (pronounced Sport Ka), but I’m afraid not. Despite the big alloy
wheels, the fat 195 tyres and sports suspension, this comes with nothing
more groovy than a 1.6 that has eight valves, just like a Triumph Herald,
and a single overhead camshaft, just like your grandad’s old Hoover.
The result is 0-62mph in 9.7sec and a cheek-rippling top speed of 108. In
other words, it’s noticeably slower than the old 1.6 litre Golf GTi from
nearly 30 years ago.
The Sportka has been around for a few months now but I really couldn’t see the
point of driving one. I mean who wants a tweaked teapot? Who wants a hot
hatch that isn’t even lukewarm? And what about that name: Sportka? If they
wanted something that sounds like a fast fish, why not go for a Turbo T?
I changed my mind because of Ford’s new viral advertising campaign. Every day,
millions of people send millions of other people e-pictures of people
sitting on the lavatory. They take half an hour to download and are never
funny. But it doesn’t stop the recipients sending them on to millions of
other people until, by the end of the day, everyone from the Falkland
Islands to Falkirk is looking at the same picture of the same man on the
bog.
Ford tapped into this, making a film that got onto the web. Bingo. An ad
everyone would see, because downloading something from a friend is always
more interesting than doing some work. What made the Ford ad stand out was
that it was funny. What made it memorable was Ford’s insistence that it
reached the internet by accident. What? You went to all the trouble of
filming a cat having its head chopped off by the electric sunroof in a
Sportka . . . for fun? Yeah, right.
The ad really is worth a watch and can be found by typing Ford, Sport, Ka and
cat into your Google. Then, when you’ve done that you will see the car in a
different light. I did, so a couple of weeks ago, before I forgot how to
drive, I borrowed one and went for a spin.
It’s not fast, but for £11,120, the SE version is well equipped with
air-conditioning, and antilock brakes provided as standard. There are lots
of extras available, too, including a “smokers’ pack” for £15. I wonder what
that is. Seems a lot for a packet of fags. Maybe they throw in a nice
lighter and an onyx ashtray as well.
I doubt it, though, because the interior is not what you’d call luxurious. The
glovebox is like a £4.99 swing-top bin from Argos and there are acres of
painted metal.
But boy oh boy is it fun. Because you have to work the gearbox like you’re
beating eggs to get any sort of go from the strangulated 1950s engine, you
feel like you’re part of the performance package, like you’re the organic
part of a machine. That means you feel involved.
And you are. This car has fabulous, wheel-at-each-corner unflappability, which
makes spirited progress an absolute hoot. The steering is weighted just so,
and the handling is truly joyful.
Remember the old Mini and how it could always put a smile on your face, even
if you were used to a Ferrari or a Bentley? Well the little Ka is just the
same. It’s like a Pitts biplane compared with a jumbo jet. And I know which
most 747 pilots would prefer to fly. More importantly, it can defeat the
black dog. For 3,000 years man has been trying to explain the reason we have
bad moods. Now, Ford has come up with a way to make them go away.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model: Ford Sportka SE
Engine type: Four-cylinder, 1597cc
Power: 94bhp @ 5500rpm
Torque: 99 lb ft @ 4250rpm
Acceleration: 0-62mph: 9.7sec
Fuel: 37.2mpg (combined)
CO2: 182g/km
Transmission: Five-speed manual, front-wheel drive
Suspension: (front) MacPherson struts and anti-roll bar (rear)
coil springs and torsion beam axle
Top speed: 108mph
Price: £11,120
Verdict: Not fast, not fancy, but lots of fun
