Report 2. Load-lugging skills

The Ford C-MAX has been looking after its nomadic keeper this month. Moving flats meant off-loading various boxes of accumulated ’stuff’ into the garages of beloved friends and family members across the UK.

First stop was chez Quirk Snr in the Lake District where opulent blue skies replaced London’s smoggy effort which, quite often, can only be described as the colour of a soiled shirt collar. Sadly no sooner had I dumped my contents than I was forced to head back down the M6 and M1 with another van load of stuff for two of my sisters.

When you fold the rear seats down (annoyingly, they don’t fold completely flat) the Ford C-MAX loading area expands from 666-litres to a pretty substantial 1723-litres. Litres mean nothing to me either, so as the photo demonstrates, the C-MAX can hold a mattress with accompanying wooden bed frame, Breville machine, Delonghi toaster, chopping board, carpet and wooden penguin ornament thingy with space to spare.

Unfortunately, the 113bhp 1.6 TDCi is proving less versatile. Yep, it emits just 119g/km of CO2 and has a claimed average fuel consumption figure of 61.4mpg, but I’m now more than 3,000 miles in and haven’t seen anything higher than 43mpg. On paper, the 0-62mph sprint time can also be achieved in 11.3 seconds, but that’s assuming Tony McCoy’s at the wheel. On most occasions, with people or stuff in the car, the engine can get bogged down if you don’t offer a bootful of revs. Starting to think I may have chosen the wrong diesel engine.

Next month, I’m going to focus on giving this C-MAX a bit more exterior flair. I’ve already lined up a conversation with vinyl wrap specialists Motor Mode UK to see what is achievable. You may think a matt khaki C-MAX with gloss black (or maybe brown?) roof should be condemned to the dustbin of bad ideas, but I want to hear it from the experts first. I think it could look pretty awesome. Well, certainly better than chrome…

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They say inspiration can hit you from all sorts of angles, so today I’ve been slapped in the face by a Jaguar short courtesy of a Hollywood director who should have tried harder.  Last year, Derrick Borte -- the Joneses, anybody? -- was hired by Journey9 PR to help Jaguar Manchester celebrate the Coventry Cat’s 75th anniversary.

After watching the two-minute result below, I have quickly concluded that:
(i) this was a rather expensive exercise.
(ii) it clearly came from Derrick’s ‘I don’t want to, but feel obliged to’ wellspring of creativity.

A short film featuring the Jaguar E-Type amongst others could have been bracingly restorative for both car and brand.

Few cars command the same assertion as an E-Type, so there was no need for the sentiments to be so cheesy and explicit. But the most annoying thing about the short for me is the narrative -- how can two minutes of film be full of so much cloying, unctuous language?! Not cool.

As I’m typing, I’m acutely aware of how easy it is for me to sit here and criticise. So in a rather stupid move, I’ve decided to have a go at creating a short film of the Jaguar E-Type myself.

The E-Type is 50 this year, so that’s all the excuse I need. I don’t confess to having big budgets, well none actually, but I do have friends and enthusiasm. Time, I feel, to make a few phonecalls…

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Here then, is the bike I dream of buying. Or might yet buy and to hell with the bank manager. [pending test ride]

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Sounds obvious, but motoring cliches are not worthy in any piece of elegant writing, even if they are spelt correctly. You’d hope that quality media wouldn’t make mistakes such as these, but alas, they do. Regularly. And I’m including myself in the finger-pointing here.

Back in the days of Sky Motoring, we introduced a cliche box that kind of worked like a swear box, only it proved more expensive. This foundation helped us kick out any extraneous prose that offered no real colour, fulfilment or improved knowledge about the car or feature in question and stopped us sounding like idiots. ‘Winding ribbon of tarmac?’ That’ll be £1, please. ‘It sounds like thunder.’ Really? What does thunder sound like? Shit off, £2 in the jar now.

Fortunately, you too can help call time on the motoring cliche and revolt, and it doesn’t mean having to stage a sit in around the kalamata olives aisle of Fortnum and Mason. Simply watch a fine selection of said vague modifiers from our beloved industry’s more trusted motoring writers and make every effort to red pen any further offerings that creep into your copy. Hopefully we can start feeling confident about using more simple, uncluttered language and concentrate on making our experiences feel more, you know, real.

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The Citroën DS3 Racing is very loud and very orange. It’s also very limited – just 200 units are coming to the UK – which could go some way to asserting your significance in the world and help ascribe you in the book of life from which the nameless masses are excluded. Or something.

The stock Citroën DS3 has a chic, city swagger that offers up some very strong, identifiable graphical elements, most noticeably that shark fin B-pillar. In a category bursting with nostalgic references, it’s refreshing to see that retro is not a road Citroën’s designers want to head down.

Unfortunately, the DS3 Racing smothers this metropolitan panache with a ham-fisted scattering of faux-military stickers and carbon fibre to create a £23,000 Jaffa Cake. Admittedly, it’s an incredibly entertaining Jaffa Cake but I do feel a little uncomfortable embracing this new hypertrophic dynamism. Citroëns work better when they’re quirky and sexy. This isn’t.

The 207bhp version of the turbocharged 1.6-litre engine that’s in the brilliant DS3 150THP (my pick of the range) suffers from a bit more axle tramp on quick getaways, despite the lowered ride height and wider track. It’s more to do with the power delivery, surging in with an almighty thump a la old skool Astra VXR, making the throttle quite difficult to modulate. The controls are nice and light though, just like the standard car.

Weirdly, what I appreciate more about the DS3 Racing and even the regular DS3 is, if I may be more prosaic, the build quality. I used to think impermanence was an accepted part of owning a French car, but the Citroën DS3 is proving me wrong. This is the only press car Citroën UK has, and given that it’s got 6,000 miles on the odometer courtesy of the Gas Station Podisode, Evo, Auto Express and Autocar to name but a few titles, I would have at least expected a hint of rattle, a squeek, maybe even a gearbox falling off? But, blow me down, there is nothing to report.

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