16 de julho de 2010

Follow that donkey!







Photos: Justin Leighton
Follow that donkey!
May heads to Morocco to spend a dirty weekend with Dacia’s new crossover. Will it tickle his fizz gland? Click through the gallery to find out.







Follow that donkey!
Bad news! We in Britain will never be able to buy the Dacia Sandero, and that's official. By the time this revived and revered Romanian marque is introduced to a nation panting with desire for an unpretentious low-priced hatchback, the Sandero will have been replaced by something else.
Still, at least we can remember it at its most beautiful and radiant, when it shone briefly in the firmament like a guiding star, and perhaps be thankful that it was snatched from us at the apex of fame's arc. It's a bit like Princess Diana.

Follow that donkey!
Good news! By then we will be able to buy the Dacia Duster, and at prices that will start below £11,000. We live in a world of aspirational car-cleaning products branded to invoke performance motoring - Turbo body polish, Supercar tyre dressing - but here is a car humbly named for the thing you might use to clean it. I hope we can look forward to the Dacia Sponge and the Dacia Bucket.

Follow that donkey!
What is the Duster? It is not to be confused in any way with the former Dacia catastrophe bearing the same name. This is a chunky, high-riding five-seater with exaggerated ground clearance, good approach and departure angles (which is off-roader speak for ‘difficult to clout on the ground at the front and back'), proven Renault engines and austerity spec.
In its basic form, it comes as a 1.6-litre petrol front-wheel driver, but can also be had with a 1.5-litre diesel and four-wheel drive. The latter Dacia Duster has a clever central diff that can be set to distribute drive automatically from front to back depending on conditions, or can be locked to give permanent all-wheel traction. But there is no low-range, hill descent or fatuous knobbery to set it up for different surfaces. It's what used to be known as a ‘grass and gravel' off-roader.

Follow that donkey!
What, while we're at it, is Dacia? The cynical view is that it's a means by which the Renault/Nissan axis can produce cheap cars for poor people without diminishing the glamour [sic] associated with their existing and established badges, and other marketing nonsense. The other view is that this is an exercise in extreme pragmatism, a separate and clearly defined experiment in back-to-basics motoring via cars that are a bit unexciting but of dependable provenance. The tie-up between Dacia and Renault works quite well - Renault lends expertise and saves Dacia from being technically moribund, Dacia prevents Renault from being too French and getting carried away.

Follow that donkey!
I quite like the look of the Duster. It has gentle purpose, and is chunky in an endearing way rather than posturing in a camp and cardiovascular fashion. The normal-size wheels help, as does its slightly gormless face. The Legend ‘Duster' is writ large across the tailgate with individual letters, as it should be. If you're going to give your car a silly name, there's no point in being a puss about it. It's quite big, the interior is lofty and spacious and the boot is a whopper.
Inside, it's pretty bare, to be honest. Off the shelf, it comes with no aircon, electric windows or central locking, although they can be had as options, and whichever track you have selected on your iPod is never going to appear in a small sub-display in the speedo dial, or anything like that. No auto is available. By selecting the diesel 4wd version, you will at least introduce the diff control to the barren desert of the Dacia's fascia and increase the knob count by some 10 per cent.

Follow that donkey!
It's not low-rent, however. It's a bit like one of those French Formula 1 hotels, where your whole bedroom and bathroom appear to be a single plastic injection moulding, but there are no rough edges and it all works.
As with the car, it's possible to take a cynical view of the launch as well. It took place in Morocco, which might seem like a cheap attempt to pervert the course of level-headed assessment with a light dusting (geddit?) of mystique and exoticism. Dull car, glamorous debut: I did once attend the launch of a new Bentley at a motorway service station, after all.
In truth, though, rural Morocco helps make a point. The car here is still an expensive commodity for most people, many of the roads are unmade, and it has to be prepared for pretty much any duty, a bit like the donkeys.

Follow that donkey!
In this respect, then, it's not unlike the British countryside, much of which is also unfinished. A farming friend confirms that out in the sticks the vast majority of so-called ‘off-roading' takes place on tracks and across fields at gymkhanas and druidic meetings. For this sort of thing, the Duster is pretty good, and I even managed to get the 2wd version through a pretty formidable gulley and up a small mountain to confront some goats. The chamfered ends and high clearance help here, but of less obvious benefit is a weight of just 1,160kg, or less than my old 1980s Porsche 911.
With the 4wd hardware and the diesel, it really is quite impressive. No, you're not going to be able to plunge down the side of a mountain in low range like you can in a Land Rover, but in reality no one actually does: that's just a stunt for off-road driving courses. And even now the Duster weighs in at just 1,250kg, which is still less than my old 911.

Follow that donkey!
On-road, the Duster's name seems a bit optimistic. The petrol version needs to be worked quite hard, and even the torquey diesel will not provide you with many opportunities to taunt the drivers of posher cars with the Duster badging on the boot lid. But it's reasonably refined, and the ride, this ultimately being une produit de France, is quite soft and therefore very welcome.
What I'm really saying here is that the Duster is sort of like a car, and nothing more. A lot of things may seem to be missing, but this means that what is there is thrown into starker relief. The history of unknown marques from unexpected countries (Proton, Perodua, Hyundai, not that long ago) is that they're stigmatised with an image of being for people who couldn't otherwise stretch to a new car. This feels slightly different. It might just be a no-nonsense car for people over-endowed with sense.

Follow that donkey!
I imagine two obvious buyers. One is farmer chum, because the Duster feels tough, is more than capable enough for most off-road work, has room in the back for sheep or the wife, and is of a fairly hose-down nature. They have a record of early adoption when it comes to this sort of thing - Lada Niva, Subaru 1800 pick-up.
The other is youths. The Duster doesn't cost much, it will be easy to maintain, the petrol 2wd version should manage 50mpg if driven carefully, the insurance group should be low, there's plenty of room for pals and tons of space in the back for music festival tent and bong, and it might even make it back out of Glastonbury. It's also pleasingly anti-fashion.
This is a cheap car. It's also basic, not especially exciting, definitely not glamorous and I can't pretend it gives me the fizz. But it is in no way nasty. In fact, I think it might be a bit cool.

At last, the technically acceptable budget car






Over the past few weeks, we've become preoccupied with all the deeply unpopular and woolly brained liberals running around Westminster. It's therefore possible that we've lost sight of more pressing issues.




By James May
Published: 12:05PM BST 24 May 2010
Comment
A proper car, well made - and only £11,000
There's also some football approaching. This has yielded a satisfyingly convoluted wall chart in the pub, which in turn stimulates, as I'm sure you can imagine, conjectural debate of the highest intellectual order.
Something similar is available at www.worldcupchart.com, the beauty of this interactive version being that you can campaign the whole tournament in 10 minutes or so, using a dice and a glass of something stiff, and as many times as you like. But again, it may be distracting us from more important matters.
So: what happened to the "global economic downturn", as it was called by the sort of people who talk of "times of conflict" and "a war footing"? I thought by now I'd be living in Cormac McCarthy's The Road and scrabbling in dustbins, but all I've noticed so far is that some friends who were struggling to buy a house are now finding mortgages much cheaper. This doesn't strike me as a bad thing.
I've always had a bit of a problem with the idea of complete worldwide monetary collapse. The doomsayers tell me it would leave me starving and homeless, but as far as I can make out it would make no difference whatsoever to the true value of things or the ability of people to continue doing what they did when you could buy a cappuccino with a single note rather than a barrowload.
Let's say you have a farm and you grow great carrots. This ability won't disappear, neither will the abilities of the people who make the fuel for your tractor. If you can lay bricks now, you will still be able to lay bricks when you're using your pay packet as wallpaper.
Even though economics is as much a mystery to me as the fashion business, I can understand why a recession in just one or two countries would be disastrous for their people; but if money ceases to have meaning for the whole of humanity, then surely we'll find a way around it.
I can see how it might affect the balance of power. If you can grow the carrots, sex chickens or re-roof leaking buildings, then you will effectively become the king of all Lydia. In fact, the bloke with the carrot skills may literally be able to grow the new money.
But what if I'm wrong? What if our blithe acceptance of a life with youth on the prow and pleasure at the helm is about to be crushed under the iron-shod hooves of the four horses being saddled up just over the horizon?
This brings me - actually, I've just realised it doesn't, but I'm going to carry on anyway - to the new Dacia Duster. The new Duster, which is not to be confused with the hideous previous one, is a sort of Skoda Yeti-sized soft off-roader made in Romania under Renault (and a bit of Nissan). I've been driving it. I think it's good.
I mean, it's not very exciting, and it is pretty basic. The interior trim is rudimentary and it comes with absolutely nothing as standard except those things necessary to complete the interface between man and machine, such as a steering wheel and some pedals.
But, unlike other dirt-cheap motors, it doesn't feel like one of those products of a nation not yet used to building cars and aimed at people not yet used to owning one, which is how Datsuns seemed when I was a boy and how the Hyundai Pony seemed some years later. Ultimately, the Duster is made by Renault, has proper engines and drives properly. When it comes to Britain, probably in 2012, it should start at prices under £11,000. You can't even get a bog standard Fiesta for that.
What it reveals most acutely, though, is that established, mainstream manufacturers have lost sight of the art of making a truly basic, low-priced but technically acceptable car. We think of the Fiat 500 as a no-nonsense small runabout, but it's a designer handbag compared with this. Even the Panda seems to be overdoing it. And these cars are small. The Duster seats five decently and it's got a big boot and everything.
It's a bit like Van Gogh's Bedroom at Arles. It's a simple place, but you can see in it everything necessary for happiness and contentment, and it causes a brief and healthy reassessment of what really matters in life. So if, as some of my business contemporaries are suggesting, things really are going to turn nasty, then Dacia's little social experiment in back-to-basics could start to look like the best thing that's ever happened in motoring.
It will be, if you like, a car for people with more sense than carrots.