Opening soon – the fun bypass

by Simon Handby in Your car on 23.06.08

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but cars have been getting cleverer these last few years. It’s a good thing, in the most part, because my impression of drivers is that they’re getting more stupid. The ever-growing pulsating brain in the modern automobile has helped make it faster, more comfortable and safer, but do cars get better with every new development? I’m not so sure.

One of the beauties of no longer having your own car is that you get to drive a lot that belong to other people, and most of these are newer and better looked after than yours would be, if you had one.

And cars are changing. The titchy little motors in great big British Leyland engine bays that I remember from my youth have been supplanted by plastic-clad, hermetically sealed ‘power units’ shoehorned under the modern bonnet. While you won’t find many modern cars that creak mid-corner like my old Peugeot 306, you won’t find many with its go-kart steering, either.

Modern brakes are different, too, with servos to help you use them, anti-lock to stop you using them too much, and sometimes even a mind of their own to put the dampers on wheelspin.

A few years ago now, Mercedes started fitting cars with Brake Assist, which detects when you start to brake in an emergency and makes sure that maximum braking force is applied as soon as possible. It doesn’t actually apply the brakes until you do, but the other week Volvo announced a system that does. If a low speed collision is imminent, City Safety decides that you can’t be trusted with the stopping pedal and uses it for you.

Open the pod bay doors, HAL

Now I’m all in favour of safety features, but something about a car that’s smarter than me doesn’t seem right. I’m sure Volvo’s engineers have weeded out any chance of an ‘I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that‘ moment on the M4, but I’ve driven a Seat Leon that seemed to have its own ideas about how doors, pod bay or otherwise, should behave. Frankly, it was annoying.

I came to think of the Leon - smart, efficient, reliable - as a one-car nanny state. Running low on petrol, failing to buckle up the instant you sat down, leaving the lights on, sometimes even looking at it funny were offences punishable by bleep. Speeding up prompted the CD to go too loud, slowing down made it inaudible. Meanwhile, the engine was so quiet that changing gear smoothly proved an unexpected challenge, and the steering seemed reluctant to tell me anything of interest about the front wheels.

I suppose my point is that, while I’ve no doubt that the Leon could whisk me safely the length of the country, I’d find it a soulless, charmless experience. Give me an entry-level Fiesta, though, and I’d probably have some fun, even if I ultimately got there less quickly.

For me, fun has always been a large part of driving, and in these days of emissions angst, fuel inflation, congestion charging and smart-arse cars, it’s under threat.