Posts Tagged ‘recession’

Is there anybody out there…?

July 2, 2010

xxxx

Does anyone else, I wonder, feel that this recession has been just a little too easy? That might seem an odd thing for me to say considering that it cost me my job of twenty years, but hasn’t it been? For sure house prices have dropped a bit but my next door neighbour, keen to sell (was it something I said?) dropped his price fifteen thousand and got it gone pretty darn quick. That’s not much of a drop compared to the six figure rises that took place over the last ten to fifteen years. The dole queue went up a bit (this I know, having been on it) and then came down a bit. And sales of big ticket items (cars and holidays and whatnot) stalled quite badly and then got back into gear again.

This was the big one, this was the Great Depression of the 21st century. It brought banks to their knees and exposed trillions upon trillions of ill-advised lending, most of which was unlikely to ever come back. The country was in debt crisis, personal finances were in debt crisis, the balloon had well and truly gone up. Lots of scary graphs on the news, big red arrows pointing south, and worried small businessmen discussing cash-flow and debt restructuring.

And then… Nothing. A new government, a lot of stern talk about tightening of belts, new austerity, and then it was carry on chaps, nothing more to see here. Can it really be that easy?

It’s a question I ponder as I gaze out over the sea of polished metal on the other side of the plate glass windows of our modest showroom. Car sales has been quite good to me. The final quarter of last year spent trapped in the blind panic of needing to know everything instantly, and then I emerged into the new year finally getting some traction and powering forward. And I’ve shifted some cars I can tell you. Shifted some cars and earned some fairly decent money in the process.

Not now though. For the last couple of months it’s been scarily quiet. Not dead. But not far off. Like not seeing a soul all morning quiet. Not so good when you’re on a commission based income. I’m very lucky, I can live on my basic (and it is basic I can assure you), but there are one or two worried faces at work right now.

All of which makes me wonder, did we get off lightly last year? Or was the real recession simply postponed, put off like a debt addled household that managed to obtain another credit card in order to keep the plates spinning just that little bit longer.

Maybe the challenging times ahead we’ve been forewarned of for so long are finally upon us…

Modern technology

June 17, 2010

Snuggles...

Cruising to The Blonde’s in my almost but not quite top spec Fiesta Zetec I decide to give her a quick call, let her know I’m on my way. Maybe she’ll put the dinner on. Time to employ a little technology, Ford style. I extend a digit and touch the voice control button on the indicator stalk that controls the radio, CD player, and the in-built hands-free car phone that links via Bluetooth to my mobile phone. This is properly trick kit. The radio mutes and the car emits a polite “bleep”.

“Phone” I intone, solemnly.

The current format does not support the command “track”.

What!? I said phone, not track! I press the voice control button again.

Bleep.

“Phone”

Phone

That’s better.

“Dial name”

Store name

“No not store, dial!”

Name please?

G’aahh!! “Cancel”

Command cancelled.

Bleep.

“Phone”.

Command please.

“PHONE!”

Phone.

“Dial name”

Store name.

“CANCEL!!”

Command cancelled.

Deep breaths. Calm, calm… Press button again. Bleep.

“Phone”

Phone.

“Dial name”

“Store name. Name please?”

No no no no NO! “CANCEL!!!”

Command cancelled.

Count to ten. Breath in through nose, and exhale.

Bleep.

“Phone”.

Phone

“Dial. Name.”

Dial name. Name please?

Yes, yes, YES! Now we’re cooking.

“Blonde home” (yes I really do have her as that on my voice dial).

Blonde mobile

Nooooooo….!

“CANCEL!!” You stupid stupid thing!

Command cancelled.

Unclench fingers from steering wheel and flex them gently. Control breathing. Press button.

Bleep.

“Phone”.

Phone

“Dial. Name.”

Dial name. Name please?

“Blonde home”

Tom home

AAAAARRRRRGGHH!!!!!!!!!!!

Bleep.

“P H O N E !”

Phone

D I A L. N A M E.

Dial name, name please.

B L O N D E. H O M E.

Blonde home. Confirm yes to dial?

Yes. Yes yes a thousand times yes!!

Dialling.

Brr brrr… brr.. brrr… click.

Hello The Blonde speaking (No she doesn’t really say that but you know, client confidentiality, Hippocratic oath, Date Protection, all that nonsense).

“Err, hi, it’s Charlie, just ringing from the car to let you know I’m on my way.”

“Hmmm… but you’re on my drive, I can see you.”

“Yes I know that, but I wasn’t when I started dialling you!!”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, look, never mind never mind.”

“You seem rather flustered and you appear to be phoning me from my drive, is everything ok?”

“Yes yes, it’s fine, absolutely fine.”

“Riiiiight. So are you coming in?”

“Yes yes, I’ll be right there.”

“Oooakay. I’ll put dinner on then shall I?”

“Good plan, see you in a sec.”

“Rightio, bye then.”

“Goodbye.”

The Blonde looks at me quizzically through the window as she hangs up and I climb out of my car.

Bloody technology, I’m calling from home before I leave next time!

A happy anniversary

April 21, 2010

Zoom zoom... xxxxx

I sat in the cool quiet reception area of the spa and healthclub in a contemplative mood. The Blonde was still getting changed after our early morning swim to work up an appetite for a big cooked breakfast after a night of unmitigated luxury at the Devere Grand Harbour Hotel in Southampton. We’d escaped for a couple of days break, well earned after a frankly manic March of car sales (March being the first month of the new registrations, this year 10 plate). The Blonde, on the other hand, is always flat out busy so deserves a break any time of year. I reclined slightly in the comfy chair as I considered the fact that, coincidently, our five star getaway came almost exactly a year after I was made redundant.

Those that have been with The Blog from the very beginning will appreciate the gulf between job centres and job seeking that began at that time, and the sumptuous surroundings I now found myself in. It’s funny how life twists and turns, and it feels very much to me that one enjoys the up’s far more as a result of experiencing the downs.

The previous evening had been spent in the exemplary company of good friends at the Jolly Sailor, scene of the eighties-tastic Howards Way, and we had a clear day ahead of us before joining more good friends that night in Dorset. A tour of nearby Ikea beckoned, before we headed off to Portsmouth and Port Solent, a wonderful complex of shops, restaurants and houses set around a large marina. A sad reminder of the economic times awaited us however, as probably a third or more of the units of this once bustling oasis of leisure and retail stand silent and empty. We’re a long way from the edge of the financial woods yet, despite politicians and estate agents desperate efforts to talk up the market. All the talk in the world doesn’t create hard cash or financial liquidity, the lifeblood of the world of commerce.

Leaving Port Silent behind us we headed back along the M27 and up into the beautiful picture postcard countryside of Dorset, complete with achingly pretty villages and chocolate box cottages. Another evening of good food and great company, a comfortable night in their wonderful old farmhouse, and we were off again the following morning, stopping off at Shaftesbury to walk down Gold Hill, scene of the famous Hovis “Bike” advert, “T’was like taking bread to the top of the world, t’was a grand ride back though”.

Clarks retail outlet village in Somerset was the next stop, where I made out like the proverbial bandit, The Blonde finding it somewhat less fruitful unfortunately, coming away only with an admittedly fetching summer hat.

Then it was the long run home and a quiet night in before back to the reality of work and the real world the following day.

T’was a grand break though, and a world and a half away from life just twelve short months ago.

Scribe

April 4, 2010

Silky xx

Great news. You may recall the article that I’d been working on some little while ago for The Editor. Well after a lot of work it’s finally been accepted for publication and is going to be a six page spread in the magazine. Very exciting!

Not only that, we’re already discussing my next assignment!

It’s still very early days on the writing front and I’m far from counting any chickens, but this feels like a little progress at last and I’m desperate to get stuck into another article to try and keep the momentum going. The way I figure it, it’s potentially much easier to further a writing career as a published writer, rather than just an aspiring writer. If I can get a few decent articles published I may just be able to refer to myself as the former, which I hope will help.

I’m not sure yet when the article is set to be published, but I can’t wait to see it in print!

Managing expectations

March 22, 2010

xxALxx

My new manager has pulled a bit of a blinder on my company car front. Well aware of my displeasure in recent Fusion motoring he was gently “encouraged” to steer acquisition of my new steed firmly in the direction of a Fiesta, ideally with a decent (read Zetec) spec, bigger engine if poss, and the Bluetooth handsfree phone connection would be a bonus. Wrap it up in a nice shade and he can colour me happy.

It took a few weeks but he did it. It sat outside, dark smokey metallic grey, the more powerful (that’s more powerful, not actually powerful) 1.4 engine, Zetec spec giving air con, alloys, computer thingummy, interior lighting pack (footwells, submarine lighting and so forth), bits of chrome trim and whatnot. And it came fitted with the all important Bluetooth, which automatically adds a much nicer central dash display, rear stereo speakers, and voice activation and dialling (touch the button on the indicator stalk and say “phone”, “dial number”, “Blonde” and I’m talking to herself in moments). Seems recent sales success hasn’t gone unnoticed, or unrewarded (quite apart from the increased commission payments).

The irony of it all is that barely two years ago I was cruising a beautiful Audi A4 convertible, midnight blue, Bose hi fi, heated seats, the works. Had anyone suggested then that a Ford Mondeo would be the order of the day I’d have been distraught. Now I’m eying up my new Fiesta and it feels ok.

Partly it’s down to changed circumstances. Back then I was using my car to go places for work, and had to look the part when I got there. Now I use the Fiesta to drive ten minutes to work in the morning and it sits round the back till it’s time to drive ten minutes home again, or fifteen minutes to Blonde Towers.

But it’s more than that, it’s all to do with expectations. Back then I was dealing with some financial heavyweights, most of those customers drove cars four times the price of that Audi, and often had something even more expensive tucked away for high days and holidays. It’s funny how the cars of those around you go toward setting levels of aspiration. Now I’m surrounded by new and used Fords and have customers rolling up in £200 scrappers in the forlorn hope of cashing in on the end of the scrappage scheme (now ended). Against that backdrop a new mid range Fiesta feels a perfectly reasonable steer.

It’s not just a matter of prestige however. That Audi was a seriously high quality piece of kit and, all questions of value, worth, or prestige aside, it was something I took great pleasure in running. It was a car I’d drive when I had no where to go just for the sake of enjoying the drive, and trips became as much about the journey as the destination.

But times have changed as have, for the moment, aspirations and expectations. And to that end the Fiesta is fine. It’s a looker (far nicer than any mainstream shopping trolley has any right to be), it’s a decent drive, goes ok, and has just about enough toys to keep my interest. In these new times of austerity it more than does the job, and to my own surprise I’m happier with it that I ever thought I could be.

Hidden talents.

March 3, 2010

I can offer a servicing plan of my own... ;-) xxxx

You may recall my mention of a Focus ST on a track in the hands of a professional racing driver recently, an experience that left me stirred, but not shaken.

So when a bright red second-hand (used Fords are always second-hand, it’s only Bentley’s that are “previously cherished”) example rocked up at the dealership for a customer to try I had to borrow the keys and take it for a sprint up the road.

Now the Focus generally is a perfectly reasonable car. It does what it does, is comfortable, handles neatly, is reasonably equipped and looks nice enough. It may lack the obsessional surprise and delight tactility of some of its German rivals, but it inevitably sells for a bit less used or new (ignore the list price, there are deals) so everyone is happy. It’s not the second-best selling car in Britain (behind the Ford Fiesta) for nothing. I’ve been running one for a few days whilst I wait for my new company car to be delivered (ordered but not yet arrived) and it’s a pleasant and comfortable if unremarkable way of getting around. But it’s not the sort of thing you can obsess over, it doesn’t impart a warm glow (unlike the Polite Hatchback, especially with those heated seats), it simply does the job neatly and efficiently.

The ST, however, is something else. Driving the ST is like watching an old lady break dance well, there’s a delicious unfeasibility to it, a sense that it just shouldn’t be possible.

On the outside the car is a fairly standard if slightly Barry’d Focus. There’s some wings and big wheels and whatnot, but nothing Baz and Daz wouldn’t buy from Halfords and bolt to their 1.6 base model. Inside the only giveaways are a pair of deeply bolstered and supremely comfortable Recaro seats and a set of auxiliary gauges atop the dash (just like Ford used to fit on hot Cortina MK2′s back in the seventies, albeit there were no turbo boost guages in them days). Under the bonnet is where the big news lies, in the shape of a five cylinder two and a half litre turbo charged petrol engine imported from Volvo. This is the Red Bull that gives the Focus ST its wings, this is the hub, the powerhouse, the heart and soul.

Slip into the Recaro and you’re in a world of ordinariness. Sure, the seats are fab (and orange in the car I drove) but you’re sat on them so you can’t see ‘em. The extra dials give a nod to the performance cred, but that’s about all. Fire it up and it’s smoother than a normal Focus, but it doesn’t shout, you can barely hear the engine. Slot into gear and toddle off down the road and if you’ve driven a lot of Foci you’ll notice a slightly firmer ride bit it’s not hard, and never crashy. All in all it feels like a nice normal Focus with better seats, a bit smoother engine, and a fractionally firmer ride.

Right up until the point where you hit a fast road and nail it!

Big engines give you torque. Turbochargers give you torque. And torque is twist action, pull, grunt. It’s what gives you that unrelenting neck straining never ending catapult of acceleration that you feel in a fast jet aircraft on takeoff. The ST has a big engine and a turbo charger, hence there’s 236lb/ft of the stuff available from just 1,600rpm, giving great big velvety unburstable effortless wallop, any gear, any speed. Drop the hammer and the car just lunges, no lag, no waiting for the revs to build, floor it and the car charges like Ocean Finance. And all to the accompaniment of a fabulous sonorous warble that segues into a hard edged yowl as the tacho sweeps round the dial as smoothly as the second hand of a Rolex watch. It’s just epic! We’re talking proper junior supercar performance here, sixty miles an hour from a standing start takes just over six seconds (think about that, each 10mph increment takes about a second), and it’s a full fat 150mph flat out.

And the good news doesn’t end there. The Focus has always been best in class for ride and handling and the ST is no exception. The ride quality at speed is excellent, smooth and planted, steering precise and accurate, and cornering without wallow or roll.

It’s a car that urges you on, each snick snick gearchange bringing a fresh double cream slug of noise and power. It’s addictive.

But best of all is the sheer unlikeliness of what lies beneath the surface. It’s like buying an Amstrad hi fi and discovering the innards are Bang and Olufsen, like buying a ticket with Ryan Air and finding yourself in First Class, like ordering a Maccie D and finding a Goucho Grill steak between the buns. It just shouldn’t be this good.

For sure, there will always be a whiff of Essex about any fast Ford, a touch of Burberry, a dab of Addidas. But you can buy these things at three years old with sensible mileage for about ten grand. That has to make it the performance bargain of the century.

I’d de-Barry mine and stick a 1.6 Zetec badge on the back. And go BMW hunting…

Fusgon

February 28, 2010

Need you... xxxx

Text time: 15:32
Text recipient: The Blonde
Text content:

Hahaha, just sold the dreaded Fusion.
HAHAHAHA!!!
xxxxx

Message ends.

I disposed of the Fusion within 48 hours of being told that the only way out of it was to sell it. Its new owners a young couple with a new baby who just want simple cheap reliable transportation. Perfect. I even demonstrated the fold flat front seat as an ideal baby changing table. I have no shame when it comes to the politics of company cardom.

I drove off the forecourt that evening in a pale metallic blue Fiesta 1.4 Zetec with Bluetooth and voice activation. It felt like a result. My last comments to the sales manager were to the effect that I would be seriously unimpressed if its replacement was a similarly utilitarian box on wheels. He joked that he was going to find the car we’d had longest in stock and give me that from now on as clearly this was the secret weapon in terms of shifting undesirable metal. I laughed, nervously, and quickly changed the subject.

New company car Monday, fingers crossed…!

Fused.

February 26, 2010

TGI Friday... xxxxx

Approaching the sales managers office I catch mention of my name, and enter to find him head bowed, talking softly into the phone. He looks up and motions me to a chair as the conversation continues. It’s bad news, I can hear it in the final few sentences, the set of his shoulders and the look in his eye. He replaces the receiver, looks at me sorrowfully and begins to unload his burden. “Look Charlie, you realise this is out of my hands don’t you, if it were up to me…” His voice tails off and I slump in my chair. “I’m sorry mate, it’s from on high, there’s no way of ducking it”.

They’ve discovered my surreptitious company car switch, I’m back in the diesel Fusion…

Now, let me make this absolutely clear, there is nothing, nothing at all actually wrong with the Ford Fusion. It’s not cramped, not uncomfortable, not ugly, starts and stops, steers left and right, does everything you could possibly want from a car. Provided you have no actual interest in cars. It is the white goods of the automotive world, the Bic Biro, the Casio digital watch. It works. And that’s all it does. It will get you from A to B with exactly the same anonymous anodyne functionality that your fridge displays whilst keeping your food cold. It does the job. But if you’ve any notion that a car should have a little chutzpa, a touch of soul, a smidgen of interest or intent, a hint of surprise or delight, steer well clear (unless that folding passenger chair/table arrangement does it for you).

I leave the office and kick the coffee machine, this is bad news. I try to cheer myself up with the thought that at least the 1.4 litre diesel engine will cut the fuel costs. And fail. I text The Blonde the news and receive a sympathetic reply. Even The Blonde, who operates on a slightly higher ethereal plane than my rather more materialistic approach to life, understands the blight of the Fusion (or perhaps is just being her usual kind and sympathetic self) and responds with condolences.

That evening I transfer my CD’s and bits and pieces out of the Fiesta and into the fusty Fusion. My sales manager has mentioned that the best way out of it is to simply try and sell it and I’ve already put a price board in the boot ready to hang in the windscreen the minute I arrive for work each morning. A colleague who’s also had his company car changed, rather more successfully, moves his gear across to his shiny new Fiesta Zetec. As I donka donka home in the OAPmobile I ruminate ruefully that I never thought I’d find myself mildly envious of someone getting a new company Fiesta..!

Fast learner.

February 23, 2010

Keep smiling xxx

We were doing well over 100mph in a dark blue Focus ST when we came across the brow and met the obstruction…

Yup, I’m back at the Henry Ford College for more Ford Motor Company indoctrination, I mean product knowledge, and after a classroom based morning learning about Ford finance, latest technology, Internet selling and showroom etiquette we’re onto the practical stuff, learning about Ford and their competition, plus a couple of items of entertainment, hot laps in a high performance Ford being one of them.

The racing driver sat next to me in the driving seat went from full throttle in fourth to hard braking with a delicious crackle from the twin pipes. A beautifully smooth shift into third, flick flack through the coned chicane and back onto the power to a hard warble from those twin exhausts. More firm braking and the car is tipped into a tightening right-hander at a frankly unfeasible speed, and I’m pressed hard into the left-hand bolster of the Recaro passenger seat, weight of my crash helmet pulled toward the window as the power goes back on and the car dances through the apex of the curve in a perfect four wheel slide. My very own personal Stig apologised that it wasn’t a Focus RS this session, but from where I sat, grimly hanging onto the grab handle, it felt plenty quick enough.

Two minutes later we’re back in the pits and I’m getting my breath back as the next victim climbs in. I stand and watch as the car moves gently out of the pit lane onto the track and the back end dips slightly as full throttle is applied once more. The car rockets off up the straight, banshee howl punctuated by a fast change into third at the red line and then fourth followed by a stab of brake light as it disappears over the crest toward that coned chicane. Awesome!

Prior to that I’d been driving the track myself in fast convoy with about twenty other cars, half of them Ford Fiesta’s, half VW Polos. The idea was to highlight to us the superb driving dynamics and superiority of the Fiesta over the competition, and the Polos had been drafted in to make the point. The Fiesta is a really great car on the road, and so it proved on the track, instructors at each end of the convoy were the racing drivers piloting the Focus ST’s that were to provide the hot laps later, and they weren’t hanging about. I drove a Fiesta first and just as on the road it sits on tip toe, steered by the fingertips and instantly responsive to input. It would be interesting to see how the Volkswagon compared. After a spirited lap we trailed back into the pits and all swapped cars, Fiesta drivers piloting Polo’s and vice versa.

But as I sat in the Polo waiting for the off I noticed something interesting. The Fiesta’s were all Zetec S’s, the sports model with the biggest engine (1.6 turbo diesels in the cars provided), bigger wheels with wide low profile tyres for enhanced grip, and lowered stiffened sport suspension for flatter keener cornering. Just the job for track work. But what were these Polos? Plastic wheel trims were the first clue, asthmatic engines the second, they’d pitched the sporty Fiestas against Billy Basic bottom of the range Polo’s, narrow of tyre, soft of suspension and three cylinder petrol of engine. Not that far off half the price of those top spec Fiesta’s then, so hardly a shock that they didn’t compare out on the track. Come on Uncle Henry, have the courage of your convictions, if you’re going to sell us on the Fiesta’s superiority at least go like for like. Would a base model Fiesta Studio with the equivalent 1.25 60hp petrol engine have put up quite as convincing a case? We’ll never know.

I did smile to myself as I spotted the ESP button in the little VW though, that much trumpeted safety feature of my last Ford experience, standard in the most basic of Polo’s, and, err, optional extra on even the top end performance Fiesta… (In fairness they are going to be bringing this in to the standard specification shortly, and rightly so).

Car football was a welcome and fun diversion. Intended to demonstrate the nippiness of a Ka we were given a target time of 40 seconds to punt a huge inflatable football down a course, 360 degrees around an inflatable Fiesta, and then punt it into an inflatable goal. My time of forty one seconds had to be unassailable. Three people got it in dead on forty…

Other highlights were a road drive comparison test of a Focus against key competition. I tried a Peugeot of some sort, pleasant enough car but fair enough, the Focus bests it. Then a similar set up with the Ka against small car competition. A Vauxhall Agila was my steed for this event, and the Ka does feel and drive better, but it’s hard to argue against the back doors and extra space in the Vaux. Tiny bit cheaper than our Ka too (and interesting, incidentally, to see that Vauxhall offer a “price guide” to download from their site, not a price list. Doesn’t smack of confidence).

All in all an interesting visit, albeit with a degree of overlap to my last course (which was intended purely for newcomers to the marque, this one an update for all Ford sales employees).

That should be about it for training in the short term, back to the showroom now to put into practice my newly generated enthusiasm for all that is Blue Oval.

Quite fancy a Focus ST though, wonder how many cars I’d need to sell before I could negotiate one of those as my company car..!

Condition stable.

February 9, 2010

Flippin' Fusion.. mutter mutter...

I was doing probably close to 50mph in the dark grey Ford Focus estate when I came upon the obstruction maybe four or five car lengths in front of me. Even if the surface had been dry (it wasn’t) I knew I had absolutely no chance of stopping within the distance. I hit the brake pedal with everything I had and with the car virtually standing on its nose, anti lock braking system pulsing furiously, I wrenched the wheel hard to the right, missing it by what felt like millimetres. With no time to think I hurled the car back to the left, tyres screaming in protest, in a bid to avoid another impact. The whole thing was over in moments, car stationary, a sudden quiet descending.

Quiet apart from the uproarious laughter of my colleague and I, “go round again” he urged, wiping the tears of mirth from his cheeks, “faster this time!”.

It was the culmination of a two day introduction to Ford course for all new employees and we were in the midst of a hands on session to demonstrate some of the technology in the cars. We’d done a road drive in various models and were now at Donnington racetrack to learn about the benefits of Electronic Stability Program. Finally it was getting interesting.

How Electronic Stability Program works is basically this. A series of sensors monitor things like road speed, tyre rotation, steering angle, lateral forces and yaw forces. They determine from this what you’re trying to achieve, and what the car is actually doing. And if they sense the car getting out of shape it can reduce engine power and apply the brakes to any given wheel to keep the car pointing the way you want it to go and reduce or even stop a slide or spin. So, imagine you’re coming off a motorway at speed, down a slip road and round a left-hand bend. You’re doing 50mph when you hit a patch of oil that causes the car to start to slide. If (for example) the car starts to understeer (where the front tyres are losing grip and the car is sliding forwards toward the outside of the curve) the system will reduce power and brake the nearside (left) rear wheel in order to gently pivot the car back on course. It cannot overcome the ultimate laws of physics (try turning sharp right at traffic lights whilst doing ninety and you’ll crash regardless) but it will provide an excellent safety net that will help to keep the car stable and on line, and you out of hospital.

And it works, it really does work. The course they set us was on a wide open tarmac session with plenty of room to get it wrong or lose control. It started with a series of cones to slalom through which suddenly narrowed toward the end. Normally this would de-stabilise the car but ESP stops that happening with gentle tweaks to the brakes of individual wheels. Then a long right-hand bend to attack, another slalom and then a set of cones to create a roundabout. The advice here was to tip the car into the roundabout at speed and then simply floor the accelerator. Yup, give it everything. This is where the system really proves its mettle. As the car starts to slide the system simply backs off the power and refuses to let you go faster and you simply circle the roundabout at a faintly sickening speed with the car completely smooth and balanced. Out of the roundabout, a straight and then the section where we came in, a set of cones designed to simulate a sudden obstruction (such as someone pulling out of a side turning straight in front of you), with another offset section of cones to avoid immediately afterward.

Now imagine a group of car sales guys, all going round one after the other, all trying to outdo one another, and all getting faster and more confident with every try. On a wet surface. At a temperature just above freezing.

The fact that (despite our best, or maybe worst, efforts) not one of us spun a car says it all.

Brilliant system, and one that should be standard fit on every car sold (and I believe there are moves to make this so in the future).


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