Welcome to the bumper Christmas, Hanukkah, Diwali, Kwanzaa, Las Posadas and Clog beating Soap Dodger edition of Weekend Australian Motoring in the business section.
(Truth in advertising warning: it’s actually the same old stuff you read all year but the new boss, who doesn’t even own a car, said calling it bumper will get us over the 20-reader mark.)
First up the worst car name of all time up until December 2021. The contenders are: the Great Wall Wingle, Mitsubishi Minica Lettuce, Mitsubishi Toppo Big Joy Guppy, Ford Probe, FSO Polonez and Lamborghini Urus.
However, as Sir Lou knows, there can only be one winner and it’s the Lambo Urus Pearl Capsule. I bet there’s three words you thought you never hear in the same sentence. Despite what you think, the extinct Urus was a shaggy long-horned wild ox, much like many of its drivers. A pearl is a smooth, rounded bead composed of the mineral aragonite or calcite in a matrix, deposited in concentric layers as a protective coating around an irritating foreign object such as a clog in an F1 car. A capsule is a tough sheath or membrane that encloses an organ or other structure in the body such as the Urus.
Second up: what is the most unreliable car you can buy (in the UK)? London’s Telegraph teamed up with warranty provider MotorEasy to tell us the top seven contenders are: the Volvo S80, Mercedes SL, BMWi8, Nissan Pathfinder, Kia Sorento, Hyundai i40, and Range Rover. And it’s a three-way tie for gold with the Volvo, Merc and Beemer all on the top spot on the podium. Ironically the same three top the list of most expensive cars to fix.
I know many of you are manning, womaning or othering up, ignoring all viruses and planning a trip to the sacred land to see the site of the birth that changed the course of history. Yes, the spacious restaurant and alfresco dining area at the Kensi is knocking back bookings from foreigners quicker than Dunc Gay got the NSW government to put warning signs back on mobile speed cameras. (We need Dunc in charge of all roads across all states, territories and islands to stop pollies turning car and truck owners into mobile cash machines. I suggest at the federal election in May we ignore the names provided and write with a Texta ‘I want Dunc!’).
Reader Rick (No.14) recently made this rookie error.
“Because I am such a fan of the old bloke, when in Adelaide for the cricket Test last week, two friends and I decided to visit the Kensi that you wax so lyrically about each week. We caught a black Camry Uber to this esteemed establishment for a couple of Coopers and lunch before play on the Friday.
“We were surprised to see such a salubrious establishment and quickly ordered some Coopers while I set off to explore the corner bar etc. During this interesting circuit, I asked three staff in the general area, two staff in the corner bar and two restaurant staff about the famous John Connolly and Michael McMichael.
Naturally I sent Rick back a strong note: “Rick, surely you wouldn’t go into the Vatican and say ‘where’s Franky?’ and expect them to tell you the location of the Supreme Pontiff? Or the White House and say: Where’s Joe?’ No, to protect the Sultan from getting mobbed/shot at or, what we have seen many times before, persons of the male disposition turning up with not many clothes on demanding a portrait, the location of his atelier within the Corner Bar is subject to strict security on a strictly need-to-know basis. The Kensi staff are highly trained in the security caper to protect the old bloke and his very valuable works of art.
“However, we are pleased you enjoyed the Coopers, I hope the Shiraz was from Jim Barry and that you were in the sort of condition that only a few rounds in the corner bar and a few bottles in the spacious restaurant and alfresco dining area, followed by a few shots of the world award-winning Bundy Solera Rum (40 per cent proof or your money back if you remember paying for it), could put you in to see the soap dodgers trounced in Adelaide.”
You’re going to have to wait till next month for the real Xmas (or whatever you celebrate). Yup, January 22-30 is Scottsdale Auction week. Six auction houses, thousands of keen millionaires and hundreds of the kind of cars that wake you up at night murmuring “drive me”.
Let me describe a few of the supper sellers over the years to rub in just what a disappointment today really is and why the new bottle of Old Spice, set of Shapewear, Sweat-Absorbing Armpit Pads and a Nose and Ear Hair Trimmer is never going to make up for the white Jaguar XKE Lightweight Competition car, the 10th of only 12 ever built with Australian history you could have had for $10m. You could have had the 1964 Ferrari 250LM. Red of course and built for racing with the V12 sitting just ahead of the rear axle and delivered new to Swiss racing team Scuderia Filipinetti. Santa could have built it at the North Pole near Monza for $13m.
Just to help the turkey/ham/challah/gulab jamun stick in your throat you could have had the 1937 Mercedes-Benz 540k Spezial Roadster. It was first owned by Reginald Sinclaire, son of one of the founders of Corning Glass Works. Red and restored but with all original parts. Only $14m driveaway no more to pay.