Articles by Tim Blair

It's a simple matter of factoring in the number of cylinders, engine size, induction system, rev range and overall vehicle weight. But the carbon community will be lost looking at the Tesla's specs. What do we know about four-pole electrics and 6,831 lithium ion cells? Is that a whole bunch or not much at all? Best skip to the bottom lines: 215kW of power and 380Nm of torque. In a vehicle weighing 1238kg, that means serious speed. Independent tests and subjective experience both verify Tesla's claim of a 0-100kmh sprint in 3.7 seconds. Reasonably enough, considering that such matters are increasingly academic in a more controlled and regulated driving environment, top speed is limited to 212kmh. Not that fast compared to a Ferrari, but fast enough to have your Tesla hauled away by anti-hoon authorities. Range is the biggest issue with electrics. Tesla claims upwards of 350km depending on driving style, which is plenty enough prior to an overnight recharge (via a common wall plug). Otherwise, company officials advise that you top up on power whenever you get the chance, as you would with a mobile phone or lap top.

It's taken eight years for Tesla to reach our shores following the company's formation in 2003. Along the way, as might be expected for a new manufacturer employing such unusual technology, there have been one or two problems.Some of the issues involve Tesla's company structure, given a shake-up in 2008 with the firing of several executives and a more general reduction of the company's workforce.Considering the global turmoil among automotive businesses, however, this wasn't anything too dramatic. Unlike certain former world automotive leaders, Tesla hasn't fallen under government control.Technical issues were a greater worry. Tesla's Roadster was originally intended to be equipped with a two-speed gearbox, but big torque from the electric motor proved a cog-breaker. Some early Teslas were actually supplied to customers with the `box locked in top gear, which killed acceleration and hurt the brand. Subsequent recalls didn't help.But the last 18 months have been Tesla's best. A sturdy one-speed gearbox delivers both rapid acceleration and a respectable top end. More importantly for the brand's survival, Tesla produced its 1000th car twelve months ago and is now aggressively pursuing international sales.

If you like petrol – and I love it – this feels like a betrayal. I’m in a screaming hot sports car that uses no petrol at all, and it might just be the fastest-accelerating car I’ve ever driven.The Tesla Roadster 2.5, a fully-electric two-seater built in California by way of Lotus in the UK, uses a monster stack of lithium-ion batteries to deliver the sort of straight-line performance usually associated with twelve Italian cylinders (or six turbocharged German ones).A bigger shock, so to speak, comes when you lift off the accelerator.  Remember what happened when you backed off the trigger on your little Scalectrix cars? They stopped.Well, so does the Tesla. That mass of cells coupled to a one-speed gearbox acts as a massive (and power-regenerating) decelerationunit.Which is almost a pity, since the example I’m driving is equipped with a cute combination of AP Racing and Brembo braking hardware. Tooling along in standard Sydney traffic, there’s barely need to use any of it.As well, there is also the faintest scent of hard-spinning alternating-current motor. It isn’t unpleasant, although it is more intrusive than anything you’ll experience in a comparatively-priced sportster.Other oddities include the very nature of that fearsome forward propulsion.  A lot happens in a typical high-performance car under maximum acceleration. Hundreds of intricate reciprocating, revolving and repeating parts work together to convert a sequence of controlled explosions into thrust. It’s beautiful and dramatic, if inefficient from a green perspective.The Tesla just has … power. There’s more drama in a carpet-cleaning infomercial. If you can pick out the AC motor’s high-pitched hum above the tyre noise (which is noticeable here, but usually overwhelmed by the engine in a conventional car) it sounds sort of like a turbo without an engine attached.In fact, the whole series of events leading up to any accelerative bursts is extraordinarily fussless. Turn the conventional key in the conventional column lock. Wait, out of habit, for the engine noise you won’t hear. Press the button marked D on the centre console. Apply foot to right pedal. Then sweep past almost any car on the road, at least up to the highway speed limit, which the Tesla hits in under four seconds.A handy g-meter located on the console notes the forces involved. We recorded a quick reading of 0.7 from acceleration alone. Putting aside any technical explanations, this basically gives driver and passenger an instant Botox effect. Ka-pow! No lines or wrinkles as your whole face is suddenly hauled backwards. (Braking causes the opposite, of course. An instant Ernest Borgnine effect.)Corners aren’t such an easy win. The Tesla is based on Lotus’s rail-handling Elise – although with development now shares only a claimed seven per cent of components – so the basics are all abundantly sound. But the combined mid-mounted cell pack and transmission weighs 450kg, meaning that this is one very light car (largely built from carbon fibre) with a substantially heavy and dense centre section.It’s fine around town, if you don’t mind the lack of power steering (I don’t, despite it requiring more effort than in the featherweight Elise). Just a guess at this point, but a track test might turn up some quirks. After all, 450kg is hard to hide, as Al Gore’s tailor can tell you.Which brings us to the types of buyers the Tesla might attract. At a base price of $206,188, this isn’t for the dirt and dreadlocks brigade. Nor, considering the Lotus-inherited entry and egress challenges – youthful flexibility is required – will it suit oldsters or the chunky. But if you’re a cashed-up 30-something with both the hots for Gaia and some surviving strands of testosterone, this might be the guilt-free performance car for you.One additional advantage: it’s a convertible, so the WRXs and V8s you leave behind can hear you laughing as you go. For petrol-drenched carbon addicts like me, that will be a very cruel sound indeed.

Watching young Craig Lowndes smiling and laughing his way through a press conference, Marsden marvelled at how mild and even-tempered Lowndes always seemed to be. The bloke next to Lowndes during that press conference was anything but. Combative and intense, Mark Skaife's subtle hostility towards what he felt were ill-informed questions provided a sharp contrast with his sunny rival. Skaife, now 41 and soon expected to announce his retirement, reminded Marsden of the drivers he'd worked with in a previous generation completely dedicated to winning and furious with any lesser result. A second-placed Skaife was a seething Skaife. Skaife gradually became more PR-friendly over his long career but never completely evolved into what you might call a motor racing metrosexual. Given the choice of getting a track advantage or getting in touch with his feelings, he'd take the former every time. For a glimpse of the inner Skaife, scan YouTube for a clip of him being booed at Bathurst in 1992 after winning with Jim Richards. This was the famous occasion when Richards described the noisy throng as a pack of a...holes. Next to him, Skaife didn't need to say much at all. He seemed ready to take on the entire crowd. Given the look in his eyes, you'd have bet on Skaife. Despite that incident, five-time Bathurst winner Skaife enjoys widespread popularity. Direct and articulate even during the most intense trackside pressure after one collision-packed event, the Gosford-born racer said he'd been hit by everything but the safety car. Skaife has a gift for sharp words. His non-verbal communication is just as direct. At Eastern Creek in 2003, Skaife ran side-by-side for several corners with the equally competitive Russell Ingall. Neither driver would yield, leading to a crash that ended Skaife's race. It didn't end the action, however. Skaife waited by his broken car for Ingall to drive past on the following lap. Lip-reading experts who are able to decode championship-level profanity might be able to work out what Skaife yelled as Ingall approached. Ingall's reaction in swerving towards his enraged opponent proved one fact: the only thing capable of making Mark Skaife take a step backwards is aiming a 1350kg V8 Supercar at him. Even then the step was hesitant. For all his argy-bargy, Skaife could be a very gentle driver. He once said (after being hit from behind and accused of brake-testing by the competitor who'd rammed him) that he'd made a career out of early braking, and it's true Skaife wasn't much one for violent corner entries, preferring to coax his car around the track rather than bully it. That's probably why he was just as fast aboard open-wheeled cars, which require a more precise touch than do the rollicking Supercars. It's easy to imagine Skaife driving an IndyCar instead of his Holden. The question now for Skaife is: what next? He's too young and too racey to quit motorsport cold turkey. You suspect that he's running his eye over several other racing categories, searching for one that might give him the speed he needs. They don't know it yet, but a certain group of drivers could be facing a very fast new rival in 2009.

“It's not just a car! It's not just a bike! It's a little bit of both things with wheels that you like! When you take one wheel off a car or add one wheel to a bike; you get the Can-Am Spyder. It's a trike!” Hmm. I've missed my calling. But the Spyder is not a standard-form trike with two rear wheels and one in front. Following the basic format of pre-war Morgans, it's a two-fronted tail-wheeler; best to land power to earth via a single rear orb while steering with a wide wheelbase set of dual mag-hubbed front tyres. And it works very well. But let's begin with a little bit of background ... The Spyder is generated by the company that first devised the snowmobile, and is possibly easiest understood as a kind of snowmobile for the road. The proportions are similar and the position of the rider/driver essentially interchangeable. That company is now known as BRP (Bombardier Recreational Products), and an unconventional and sparky enterprise it is. For BRP, already with substantial market share for vehicles bound for snow (snowmobiles), dirt (quad bikes) and water (Sea-Doos), the Spyder represents a first serious bid for street sales. It's a risky, mega-millions move, but company CEO Jose Boisjoli is comfortable with risk. As a child growing up on a Quebec farm he took to riding speedy snowcraft, and now in his 50s maintains a fondness for rapid personal transport. Boisjoli's an unlikely looking petrolhead. Bespectacled and slight, you'd pick him as the company accountant long before you'd pick him as a user of BRP's machines, let alone this enterprise's main driver. Then he begins talking about the Spyder's development. “The first prototype used a two-stroke engine,” he says. “Solidly mounted. Very fast.” He rolls his eyes at the memory. “So fast!” Then came tamer — only slightly tamer — roadworthy versions. “They were all fun, but they weren't completely safe for public use,” Boisjoli says. How so? “Our test riders would be on two wheels when they hit highway exits.” His eyes positively sparkle. “And entries.” Those two-wheeling days are long gone, years back. During test rides at the Spyder's Austrian launch last month, even the most desperate trike try-hards struggled to push their machines into an imbalanced or awkward stance. The Spyder's natural grip is impressively high, and over even that the complex Bosch traction and balance electronics work hard to counter maniac moments. (There are many patents pending on the Spyder's various tilt-and-steer computerised controls; how many exactly, Boisjoli isn't saying.) So, let's roll a Spyder out on some lightly infested Austrian roads. The V-twin Rotax engine starts instantly via handlebar commands and settles quickly into a mild pulsing beat. Possibly too mild — the engine is heavily muffled and may not offer much sonic appeal to the Harley-Davidson retiree set (although its quietness may appeal to neighbours of the Harley-Davidson retiree set). Select first gear through the foot-activated motorcycle gear lever — one down, four up — and you're away. I hadn't ridden anything even resembling a motorcycle for 20 years before I took to the Spyder, but it's weird how muscle memories simply kick in. The first time I needed to brake I reached for a lever in front of my right hand. It wasn't there, as it was on my Kawasaki in 1986. All Spyder braking is done through a right-foot pedal. Lucky that the three wheel discs bite quickly, or my brief hand-foot confusion may have led to an unanticipated Australian-Austrian interface moment. Boisjoli is a fan of the Rotax engine's rompy sub-5000rpm antics, and it's hard to disagree with him. A certain amount of vibration adds character. To quote the CEO and the Beach Boys, you can have “good vibrations”. Above 5000rpm the Rotax begins to sing; it'll pull beyond 8000rpm, at which point upshifts become addictive fun. Corners arrive quickly when behaving so. Those with a motorcycle background (that is to say, almost all at the launch) adapted more rapidly to medium-high-speed Spyder handling than those more used to four wheels (that is to say, me), but Bosch stability electrics are always there to rescue the unwary. I'll flatter myself and assume I was riding quickly enough for Herr Bosch to occasionally kick in. He's an unobtrusive co-pilot. The potential market for the Spyder in Australia is immense. There's any number of former motorcyclists who crave open-air travel without risking contact with open-wound gravel. Also, the Spyder's snappy acceleration will sate those missing motorcycling's instant right-twist responsiveness. This machine has some serious zest. Against that — and here we must note again BRP's fondness for risk — the Spyder is a trike. It's an oddball deal, like a Segway, although not nearly as pointless. Its makers believe the “what on Earth is that?” factor will encourage sales. But it'll be a bold Sydneysider who owns the first Spyder in his/her street. Then again, the first Valiant Charger owner was likely a bold sort, and those coupes sold like hell. Helped by a famous jingle, of course; perhaps BRP could revive it, and have customers screaming: “Hey, Spyder!”   The Bottom Line A quirky answer to a question few so far have thought to ask. Despite the quirks, the machine does have a practical side.   Snapshot  Can-Am Spyder Price: $US14,990 (TBA in Australia). Engine: Rotax 998cc, V-twin liquid cooled, with 79kW and 104nM. Safety: ABS, traction control, stability control with roll-over mitigation, and a dynamic power steering system.

John Lennon was a fan of enormous German vehicles. In February, 1970, the soon-to-be-ex Beatle took delivery of a Mercedes-Benz 600 Pullman limousine, built to his own specifications.Lennon devotees may be surprised to learn he requested that the interior be lined entirely with black velvet.No cheap sheepskin seat covers for John; he didn't give fleece a chance.What might Lennon have made of Volkswagen's new Crafter, which, being German and gigantic, fulfils at least two of his preferred design requirements? (Velvet isn't available, not even as an option.) Let's approach it as he may have, had it not been for Mark David Chapman's 1980 intervention.First, you may need to talk any potential suicides down from the roof. The Crafter is so tall that it could serve as a launch platform for hang gliders.Its dimensions are hilarious: even the VW badge on the grille, for example, is fully the size of a man's outspread hand. An early VW Bug would be squashed by the insignia alone.So the Crafter easily meets Lennon's size needs.Enter the cabin through surfboard-length doors and take a (non-velvet) seat.Actually, these seats will distress those expecting even modest style; they're finished in the kind of pattern you find in cheap hotel rooms.Speaking of which, take a look through the interior window at that vast area behind you. The Crafter can accommodate, seriously, an entire AFL team. Standing up. David Hicks would feel agoraphobic in here.I've driven a lot of vehicles, but the Crafter is the first to come equipped with an echo. Lennon might be put in mind of the Cavern Club, or (so staggeringly huge is this cargo space) his wife Yoko's musical inability.Lennon's Mercedes had a record player. The Crafter has an excellent five-speaker CD player, which doesn't skip anywhere near as much as the sound system must have in John's limo.If you're a rave-style dancer, you know, wave your hands in the air like you just don't care, please go ahead. Like Lennon, I'm average height and could barely reach the ceiling from the driver's seat.Other interior appointments of note: aircraft-style overhead baggage compartments above both driver and passenger; an Esky-like supplementary “glove box” beneath the passenger seat; sun visors of sufficient width and depth to interest Tropfest projectionists; and electric motors somehow powerful enough to raise and lower windows made from more fused sand than an entire nuked Middle East.Whoa! Better fire this baby up and go for a drive to escape any anger over that “nuked Middle East” line; peace dude Lennon would not approve.This Crafter ran a 120kW, 2.5-litre, five-cylinder turbocharged diesel that displayed the typical narrow-powerband traits of turbo-diesel engines.Combined with the test Crafter's slow-shifting automatic gearbox, this made for sometimes-jerky progress until the upchange sweet spots were located.Once under way (and once you're over the feeling that you're in charge of something with a centre of gravity two metres above your head), the Crafter is strikingly chuckable, with loads of Pirelli-assisted grip.Just remember that, when zipping through tight city turns, you've got a whole continent of van behind you.Otherwise, you'll bang kerbs with the rear wheels — an occurrence that kind of detracts from the sensation you're driving an insanely elevated diesel Lotus.Freeway travel aboard the Crafter is effortless, aided by forward and side views usually enjoyed only by the likes of those in air traffic control towers.Or perhaps from the sixth floor of the Dakota building, where Lennon was able to gaze over Central Park but where he no doubt missed the Crafter's deep-torque ability to overtake lesser machines on steep hills.Some of Lennon's later works, I think, reflect this sense of loss.Beatles producer George Martin is now entirely deaf in one ear and partly deaf in the other, which is a particular shame given the acoustic novelties offered by Volkswagen's mega-van.If you've ever been aboard a large, wooden-hulled sailboat, you'll probably recall the sound of timber twisting in response to ocean forces.Similarly, you sometimes hear, while driving an unladen Crafter, the peculiar, guitar-like notes of large, thin, metal panels reacting to uneven roads. Martin could've used those tones on Sgt Pepper's.