Articles by Alan Jones

As Karla Pincott points out in her blog, 'tis the season for car awards ceremonies.

According to the Oxford University Press, even a highly-trained sprinter will take at least 10 hundredths of a second to react to a starter's pistol, and the best the rest of us can do is 14-16 hundredths of a second. So when Volkswagen says the DSG gearbox which is an option on its Golf GTI hot hatch can change gears in a mere 3-4 hundredths of a second, you have to wonder: why would I want to change gears more quickly than my brain can tell my muscles to push the button?Quite simply because it feels great!Since the first driving lesson in a manual car we've all tried to improve our gear changes from the early days kangaroo-hopping across an intersection to mid-life's journey home with the kids asleep in the back after dinner. For those of us who want to drive well, it doesn't stop there.If you're half-serious about your driving, you try to improve the speed and fluidity of 'transitions' - the way your car shifts its centre of balance forward under braking, backward under acceleration, and sideways under cornering. Performance driving instructors will tell you mastering smooth transitions will save you much more time around a racetrack than accelerating harder. Every hundredth of a second your gearbox spends in neutral leaves you less time to get the power on or off and get the car trimmed for the next corner.Car manufacturers know that a good automatic transmission can deliver better performance and economy than the manual equivalent, but they also know that many of us can't live with leaving the gearchange decisions to the car. So since the beginning of the 20th century they've been trying to build a better gearbox that combines the best of automatic and manual transmissions.There is now such a proliferation of 'flappy paddle' and 'sport shift' transmissions on the market that I've done some further research on the topic that you can read later (and probably disagree with me on definitions and technologies - feel free to add your opinion.)When Volkswagen were kind enough to loan me a Golf GTI fitted with DSG for a week, I fell so deeply in love with its gear changes, I emptied the petrol they'd filled it with and refilled it twice on my own dime. For someone who lives only 8km from the office, and considering I averaged 15-16L/100km that's a lot of driving in one week.With the exception of getting stuck behind a semi on the famously twisty bits of Buckety's Way - no fault of the Golf's - I had a big, stupid grin plastered to my face the whole week.  I'm no stranger to flappy paddles - my wife drives a Mini Cooper S fitted with Mini's 6-speed sequential transmission (because I like technology and my wife prefers not to have a clutch pedal.) Sadly, the DSG makes the Mini's changes seem clunky and slow. I miss DSG.DSG mates two sets of cogs and two wet multiplate clutches with a computer that is calculating which gear you'll select next. One clutch has your current gear, and the other clutch has your next gear ready and waiting, so the moment you flick the flappy paddle, you change gear. At three hundredths of a second it happens three times as fast as your brain can tell your hand to tap the paddle.Leave the gear lever in Drive and the DSG behaves like the kind of velvet transmission you'll find in a big Lexus. The smoothness comes from the sophisticated computer timing each shift to perfection and the handing over from one already-spinning cog to another instead of the engine spinning up for a moment while a single clutch finds the next gear.Push the GTI's gearshift over to the left from Drive and the DSG will now accept your input before its own. If you want to hold a gear a little longer, DSG will let you. If you forget to change yourself, DSG will still step in to keep things smooth, but it will wait for your input first. You have the choice of wheel-mounted paddles or pushing the gearshift forward and back, so you really have no excuse for forgetting.The fun really starts when you push the gearshift one slot further down, into Sport mode. Now DSG will assume that you're here to optimise your weight transfer and carry as much speed as is safe from one transition to the next. It lets you hold a gear up into the red zone, and skip as many gears as you need to under heavy braking. You'll automatically receive a satisfying 'blatt' from the sports exhaust too, without any of that fiddly heel-and-toe business you'd need to do with a manual car.All good sequential gearboxes provide this sort of functionality, but where DSG stands alone is in the smoothness and speed of its changes. There's really nothing like having the neutral moment of a transition over with in three hundredths of a second. Shuey's familiar with it, a Ferrari, Maserati or Lamborghini owner will know how it feels, but other than that the only way to experience this is in the $58,790 Golf R32 or $72,000 Audi TT Coupe.You might not beat any of them to the corner at the end of the main straight, but you will certainly look like a track star when you carve out of the last apex in a series of tight bends. DSG's computer-controlled double clutch will flatter and complement your input every time.What's the downside of DSG? The good news is that despite a 20kg weight difference, you're unlikely to notice any difference in driving dynamics over the manual. Considering all the extra technical gubbins under the hood to make it work and the fact you're essentially driving with two gearboxes connected at the waist, that's no small achievement. The DSG version lists at $2,300 more than the manual, but considering even a DSG-equipped GTI is still only $42,290 RRP, it's still the best-value European hot hatch in its class on a bang-for-buck basis. You could spend around $3,000 getting leather, or a sat nav, or a sunroof and metallic paint...Nah! If you're a real hot hatch driver, what you really want is the ability to change gears twice as fast as you can think.

Liz and Brad Soden's lives changed the day a tyre blew out on their car, causing a tragic accident that left Liz unable to walk.

I've returned from the Silly Season holidays to find the world has been getting sillier while I've been away - organisers have decided to cancel this year's 2008 Dakar rally for......"safety reasons."Safety reasons? Are we all talking about the same rally? The only reason I watch the TV coverage of the Dakar rally is because there's not nearly enough safety.Last year Australian households gathered together to watch Race to Dakar in huge numbers, all hoping that the intensely annoying Charley Boorman might smack into Ewan McGregor and take them both out, killing two birds with one stone-damaged BMW.We know from past Dakars that competitors killing themselves and each other is regrettable, but no reason to cancel the race. Since 1979 the race has killed 47 competitors and a great many officials, spectators and innocent bystanders. In the last 20 years Formula One has transformed itself into a sport no more dangerous than riding on a shopping trolley while your mum pushes it around Coles. Meanwhile, safety regulations imposed upon the Dakar have made little difference, with multiple fatalities again last year.Reading between the lines, it looks like the 'safety issues' are specific threats of terrorism against competitors and race officials.The exact nature of the threats isn't reported, but it must have been an action that threatened even more than the usual number of deaths.That would be some action!If that's really what's going on - would it be too paranoid to wonder if event sponsors have had enough of their brand being associated with reckless threats to life? That they might have threatened to withdraw sponsorship at the last moment? That organisers might be searching for an alibi to cancel this year's event while they put further safety regulations in place and placate sponsors?We'll probably never know what the terrorists had planned, but if instead of cancelling the race this year, the organisers detailed the risks, competitors were aware of the risks, and the media were prepared to cover it... would you all still watch?

Milemeter is a Dallas-based insurance company that plans to turn the motoring insurance industry upside down by changing the way insurance costs are calculated.In the US as well as Australia, car insurance is calculated according to risk factors such as age, sex, postcode, car make and model and prior driving record.  Those risk factors are then applied to the cost of insuring your car for a 12 month period.But what if your car, like mine, spends Monday to Friday in the garage? What if you're planning to go away for three months, during which the only risk to your car is someone backing into it while it's parked in the street? Do you really need insurance when your car isn't being driven?Milemeter says no, and the companys CEO Chris Gay, says, "We were frustrated as insurance consumers. We wanted to create an insurance company that was fair, affordable, and made sense."Admirable goals!Milemeter won't start selling insurance until May 2008, but when it opens for business, you'll be able to buy insurance in mileage increments, as low as USD100 for 2,000 miles (about $36 per $1,000km.)You'll register your odometer reading when you sign up, and if you try to make a claim once you're over your purchased miles, you're out of luck. Top up your mileage and your coverage continues.The only downside is that your insurance mileage does have an expiry date - you can't expect to garage your car a few years until insurance costs come down!As someone who cycles or catches the train to work all week, using the car mainly on the weekends, I can see a lot of benefits to this model.Premiums will still vary according to your driving record, where you keep your car, and what kind of car it is, but importantly, Milemeter has also done its sums and decided it won't discriminate according to sex: male and female customers insuring the same car in the same location with the same driving record will pay the same premium. Vive non difference!In a perfect world we'd also pay a different rate per kilometre depending on the speed we're driving, whether we're on a Victorian road or a NSW road (where roads are merely a line of potholes aligned between the painted lines.) Or how about  when we're talking on the mobile phone while we drive? Eating fatty foods and smoking... shouting at the kids in the back... driving with annoying bumper stickers... turning without indicating......perhaps variable rate insurance could discourage everything I hate about other drivers?CarsGuide does not operate under an Australian financial services licence and relies on the exemption available under section 911A(2)(eb) of the Corporations Act 2001 (Cth) in respect of any advice given. Any advice on this site is general in nature and does not take into consideration your objectives, financial situation or needs. Before making a decision please consider these and the relevant Product Disclosure Statement.

Carsguide.com.au reader Pat Reeves has emailed in with this question: Thanks Pat, good question. Despite the "medium" label, the Mondeo is essentially about the same size as the Falcon. A couple of millimetres here and there makes little practical difference. Ford calls it "medium-sized" in Australia to try and create some distance between the Falcon and Mondeo, to try and attract medium sedan buyers and avoid cannibalising Falcon sales.Ford Australia finds itself in this position because the Mondeo is a true 'world car' - a common platform from which large manufacturers try to meet the needs of very different consumers, in very different markets.The Ford Falcon has been amongst the biggest-selling car models of all time, but practically all of those sales have been in Australia and New Zealand, so the Falcon is a "large sedan" designed and built for the Australian market, where we like our family cars like we like our takeaway meals - supersized.The Mondeo, on the other hand, is a true 'world car.' It's based on a manufacturing platform used not just for building Mondeos but also Ford's S-MAX and Galaxy people-movers, several Volvos and even the Land Rover Freelander.The engineering ingenuity that allows several companies to spin out a variety of models from one set of underpinnings is impressive, but it can't hide the basic dimensions and weight of a platform used to build a Land Rover (even the softest one).Outside Australia and New Zealand, there's no such thing as a Ford Falcon. In Europe, with its narrow streets, heavy traffic and small families, a Mondeo is considered a big family sedan (a medium family is happy in a Focus, a small family in a Festiva with a roof box...) So outside the US and Australia, it doesn't really matter how big the Mondeo is - it's meant to be the biggest. It's only in Australia that Ford has a problem.Not such a big problem really. Big is generally better these days; newer technologies mean they can add interior space and even weight to a car and still have it return improved economy and performance.Big though it is, the Mondeo's a great car to drive, and a long way ahead of the current model Falcon on most criteria. Take one for a test drive (particularly the diesel) before you spend too much more time with the tape measure. As you slip neatly through another slippery roundabout without the body roll and rear-end slip of a Falcon you'll wonder how they could make a people-mover and a Land Rover out of something that handles so well. It boggles the mind.

I can't remember where I was when John Lennon died, but I'll remember forever that I was at my computer on the first of December 2007 when I first learned that one of my greatest childhood heroes, stuntman superstar Evel Knievel, had ridden that rocket-powered motorcycle across that big canyon into the Great Unknown.Who better to personify the hedonism, enthusiasm and downright recklessness of a crazy 1970s? Oil was cheap, lives were cheaper, and nothing quite said 'masculinity' like the act of dressing up like Elvis, strapping yourself to a powerful (preferrably rocket-assisted) vehicle, and driving it up a ramp and over something?The somethings themselves were, well, really something: Greyhound buses, live sharks and even Idaho's Snake River Canyon (I was sure it was the Grand Canyon, but I've checked Google and it appears that's just my childhood memory exaggerating. Still, I bet it was full of snakes.)Getting air was only half of the challenge. The difficult part was bringing yourself down safely on the other side - something that Knievel seemed far less concerned with than you or I. Over time there were several close calls, and many of Knievel's imitators bit the dust over the years, literally.Yet Knievel himself flew on, despite many bad landings and countless injuries. He spent amost a month in a coma after attempting to jump over the fountains at Caesar's Palace casino in Las Vegas (he cleared the fountains but blew the landing.) He finally retired from jumping after he broke both his arms and suffered concussion jumping over a tank of live sharks in Chicago.But if I were a betting man, I'd wager that greater than 99% of our male readers were inspired by Knievel as kids. Sure, kids have been thinking they could fly since the beginning of time, but in the 1970s we had Knievel doing it for real, and we worshipped the man as a hero. We added the same stars-and-stripes and Elvis impersonator touches to our own leaps of faith over a line of skateboards, boxes or neighbourhood kids, a plywood ramp and a three-speed chopper push-bike the only thing between heroic legend and a gravel-rash disaster. Evel Knievel was a hero to young boys everywhere; an inspiration to all of us who've at one time or another attempted to fly through the air on our bicycle, skateboard or billycart.The news reports say it was old-age and ill-health that got him in the end, and that's a damn shame. Great heroes like Evel should have gone out the way we'd all choose to go out - quickly, with a bang, a crowd of mostly spangly-halter-topped cheerleaders and little boys distraught at their loss......a closed casket parade through the city, the fly-past, the military salute, the presidential address......and then the flag-draped coffin secured to the flanks of a Saturn V rocket, pointed at the sun, and LIFT OFF!Did you attempt any Evel Knievel-style stunts as a kid? Share your memories in the comments section below... Five fun facts about Evel KnievelDid you know that at least three movies of Evel Knievel's life story were made?Time Magazine's obituaryTime Magazine's colourful coverage of Knievel's attempt to jump Snake River Canyon

If you leave Sydney early enough to miss the soccer mums and tennis dads, you can enjoy some of the best views of the Great Diving Range, some great Southern Highlands farming country, some wild, windswept gorges, and still have time for a ploughman's lunch and a beer in a country pub. I've added the major way points in the route to the Google Map below, but the main idea is to circle the NSW highlands just north of Canberra before heading north to cross the mountains and come home via Nowra and the Princes Highway. We did this trip in Volkswagen's Touareg FSI V6. The V6 is not as powerful as the larger-displacement engines in the range and we certainly felt this when trying to overtake up the large hills before Goulburn. There was more cabin noise than I'd expect from a premium european car, mostly from the large wing mirrors and the offroad-capable tyres. The cabin is a very comfortable place to be for the front seat passengers, with two electrically-adjustable seats including lumbar rests that adjust electrically for height as well as depth. There was less leg-room in the back seats than a couple of teenagers would like, but enough room for young children, and the seats are deep and comfortable. The boot is large, flat and at a comfortable height for loading and unloading. When it began to rain in Nerriga we found the deep tailgate door was an ideal height and breadth to shelter under - it was easy to stay dry while loading and unloading, and in our case, taking off some muddy hiking boots. Off the tarmac on the Little River Road and the Nerriga Sassafras Road, the Touareg actually felt more composed than it had on the highway, with the sometimes too-sensitive steering settling right down and the suspension easily swallowing pot-holes and corrugations up to medium size at up to 80km/hr. My co-driver said that it was almost as if the Touareg had been set-up specifically for dirt highway cruising at the expense of motorway use. Pulling into Nerriga in the late afternoon, we noticed an old Victorian-era iron rock crushing machine being used as playground equipment in the yard of the Nerriga Public School, dating back to the late 19th century when this area was the centre of an alluvial gold rush. I don't think you could call the Touareg a "rock crusher" exactly but it was definitely a pot-hole smoother. The Nerriga Hotel is well worth a stop, with a classic single-story weatherboard premises dating back to the same gold rush period and a lovely front verandah where the locals gather, sipping a schooner while the sheepdogs lie on the warm tarmac in between the working utes. Despite appearances, it's a family pub, with bad language strictly forbidden and a brightly-decorated kid's playroom out the back with TV and VCR for a mid-trip break from the parents. There are also quite a few walls of memorabilia and historical record on the walls of the pub, so it's quite worth having a walk around. We were even able to buy a few bars of the locally-made hand-made soaps. On the road again, you'll climb through some spectacular eroded sandstone spires and glimpse some wild hidden valleys to the north as you pass the Ettrema Wildnerness east of Nerriga. It's almost literally all downhill once you pass Sassafrass, but you should take a few minutes to pull over at the scenic Tianjara Falls, which has a magnificent lookout over a gorge worn away over millions of years by the patient waters of Tianjara Creek. Push on now, and turn left onto Braidwood Road towards Nowra Airport, as this will save you quite a bit of time on the approach to Nowra and the Princes Highway. Once back with the main flow of traffic stop in at the South Coast's most eccentric pub, the Berry Pub, for a gourmet pub dinner before making your way home. Watch out for the many fixed speed cameras, both before and after Berry, but particularly the one as you enter Berry, where it goes quite rapidly from 100km/hr to 60km/hr.

Today I'm carrying the keys to a Holden Commodore Omega in my front trouser pocket, and if I'm not careful about how I position them when I sit down, I'm afraid I might puncture my femoral artery and bleed to death on the office floor. Walking through the office, I need to be careful that I don't mislead colleagues as to my current state of arousal. I'm not that pleased to see them; it's just that I have yet another massive chunky car key in my pocket.The modern car key (like, it seems everything else) is a vastly more complicated bit of kit than the car key of old. Those original simple slugs of steel have been superseded, and now your new car key is capable of identifying you as the driver from thirty paces, unlocking your choice of passenger and driver doors, turning on the lights, popping the boot, triggering the emergency alarm, and in convertibles, opening or closing the roof.To protect us from car thieves, when unlocking your car, the modern car key first engages in a complex exchange of encrypted data with the security system. I don't pretend to understand how complex the circuitry is but I recall when my own European hot hatch was broken into, the dealer had to send for a new ignition system and key set from France because they just didn't have the equipment necessary to repair them in Australia.All that techno-wizardry on a keyfob makes for a bulky package. Some manufacturers thankfully make a key that folds in and out at the touch of a button, so that while you're left with a nugget of plastic about the size of a compact mobile phone, at least it won't punch a hole in your leg or the expensive lining of your handbag.However, those manufacturers who design down to a price, or those who sometimes neglect the little details, are increasingly likely to hand you something the size and mass of a screwdriver when you drive off the lot. I need a 'man bag' to keep my car key in now, or better still, a shoulder strap so I can carry it across my back like an M-16.Carrying that monster bit of tech in the time-honoured front pocket of the weekday suit trousers is just asking for a gasp of pain. Dropping them in a handbag full of delicate secret women's business is going to end in tears. And if you read on page 5 one Sunday that the coroner is investigating my mystery death next to my car, you'll know it was probably because I tried to pull my keys out of my jeans in a hurry and instead dealt myself a fatal injury.The police will recognise the familiar details at the scene: the car will be unlocked, the lights on, the doors open, the roof open, the trip computer readying a freshly-made cup of English Breakfast to sit steaming gently in the cup holder, but I will have passed on to a better, simpler place......with smaller keys.

My friends can't believe it - I've fallen for a ute. They might have understood if this was a meaningless one-night stand with a HSV Maloo R8, born of short-term lust for the outrageous form of that beast, but they're assuming it's a case of 'beer goggles' because I've fallen for a bare-bones, steel wheeled, working Commodore VE ute.  Nobody was more surprised than me, but the moment I hopped in the VE, it began to impress.The high-output version of Holden's V6 is great, significantly perkier than the base V6, yet more pliable and controllable on wet Sydney streets than the V8. Enough of the right sort of noise to be sure you're not driving a diesel, and any quicker from the lights and you'd be leaving the contents of your tray on the car behind you. The six-speed box pulls away acceptably in second without a load, though with a load on and from an uphill start, you'll need first. On the highway, fifth and sixth cruise comfortably and quietly.The cabin had more storage than I expected and a higher trim level than I expected, especially the wheel, gear shift, electric seat and reach-adjustable wheel. In fact, I was surprised how much of the interior I recognised from the Commodore SS-V I'd been driving a few weeks before. Sure, the bright orange leather trim was missing (not at all sorry about that) but the lower-spec audio system was more than adequate, and having no trip computer on the central electronic gauge meant I was no longer wincing at my mileage after heading out in a hurry.The load bay has literally loads of room - not the biggest available, but adequate for anything other than a 2m spirit level or a big ladder. Trade that space off against dynamics and I'll take the dynamics any day. While the VE ute was a little light and springy in the rear when I'd offloaded my 2m of mulch, it was nowhere near as bouncy as a heavier-sprung Hilux, and the traction control nicely managed the standard tires on wet, greasy sydney roads.I found it easy to sweep out the dog hair and mulchy bits from the rear when I'd finished my errands, and the gate took a pounding without complaint from two 20kg six-year-olds determined to use the ute's tray as a temporary driveway playhouse.You'd never pick it from a line-up of glamour-pusses, but the VE ute could find a place in my garage.