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Opinion: cars should be an inclusive hobby

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Opinion: cars should be an inclusive hobby | Top Gear

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Car prices are entirely relative to your wealth, but there’s fun out there for all

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Opinion: cars should be an inclusive hobby

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Car prices are entirely relative to your wealth, but there’s fun out there for all

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Car prices are entirely relative to your wealth, but there’s fun out there for all

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Opinion: cars should be an inclusive hobby

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Opinion: cars should be an inclusive hobby

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Opinion: cars should be an inclusive hobby

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Car prices are entirely relative to your wealth, but there’s fun out there for all

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The other day I was with someone whose best friend owns 60-odd cars, which my companion gets invited to drive. He’s on the lookout for a Porsche 918 at the moment. Today I’m scanning through the comments section of a Top Gear review of a restomod. And as always happens with restomod reviews, a frequent contribution goes along the lines of, “Well I wouldn’t pay that money for car X.” Sometimes with the extra kicker, “You could get six of car Y for that.”

Thing is, most people – me included – live in households with two, one or zero cars. If you presented me with a £150,000 restomod I might well say, hang on, I’ll instead buy something not unadjacent to my perfect garage. We operate on an essentially utilitarian logic, with transparent metrics for price of car versus fitness for defined purpose. And yes, by that metric most restomods are far too expensive.

But what if we were someone with 60 cars? Then we wouldn’t recognise that logic. If we wanted, say, a DBA Mini Remastered at £150k, or a Manhart 2002, we won’t be dissuaded by the people who say, “I could find half a dozen well-restored Minis for that", because we want one that’s modified and restored perfectly, not merely well. And we don’t need half a dozen. In this stratum, the question of value is defined along very different lines from the same question at a more terrestrial level – say comparing equal-size equal-equipment compact crossovers from BMW versus BYD.

I’m not generally in favour of displays of extreme wealth. Not so much because of the display per se but because of the wealth. More equal societies are generally happier than unequal ones. But I’m swimming against the political tide and the world is getting more unequal. ‘Trickle-down’ is generally a myth but actually a beautiful restoration is economically redistributive, involving a lot of artisan labour and the artisans should be getting decently paid.

Fortunately for the rest of us, it’s easy to have fun in a car even without the expenditure of six or seven figure sums. Other things than the actual car matter more. The road, for a start. I’ve had a ball rubbing the lettering off the tyre sidewalls in a rental Toyota Aygo up in the Sierra Nevada in Spain. I’ve had a lousy and frustrating time stuck in traffic in a Porsche 918. I’ve also had a lousy time sharing a very nice car with a crashing bore, and a lovely time sharing a boring car with an interesting passenger.

This should be an inclusive hobby. With that thought I leave you. This is the last of my 200-plus columns for Top Gear. I’ve been here since 2004 with just one short intermission, so I guess you deserve a break. Still, it’s been a great honour, and if you’ve been reading you have my heartfelt thanks. I’m not gone: they’ve just asked me to move to other places in Top Gear’s magazine and online estate.

# data.attributes.body.processed
The other day I was with someone whose best friend owns 60-odd cars, which my companion gets invited to drive. He’s on the lookout for a Porsche 918 at the moment. Today I’m scanning through the comments section of a Top Gear review of a restomod. And as always happens with restomod reviews, a frequent contribution goes along the lines of, “Well I wouldn’t pay that money for car X.” Sometimes with the extra kicker, “You could get six of car Y for that.”

Thing is, most people – me included – live in households with two, one or zero cars. If you presented me with a £150,000 restomod I might well say, hang on, I’ll instead buy something not unadjacent to my perfect garage. We operate on an essentially utilitarian logic, with transparent metrics for price of car versus fitness for defined purpose. And yes, by that metric most restomods are far too expensive.

But what if we were someone with 60 cars? Then we wouldn’t recognise that logic. If we wanted, say, a DBA Mini Remastered at £150k, or a Manhart 2002, we won’t be dissuaded by the people who say, “I could find half a dozen well-restored Minis for that", because we want one that’s modified and restored perfectly, not merely well. And we don’t need half a dozen. In this stratum, the question of value is defined along very different lines from the same question at a more terrestrial level – say comparing equal-size equal-equipment compact crossovers from BMW versus BYD.

I’m not generally in favour of displays of extreme wealth. Not so much because of the display per se but because of the wealth. More equal societies are generally happier than unequal ones. But I’m swimming against the political tide and the world is getting more unequal. ‘Trickle-down’ is generally a myth but actually a beautiful restoration is economically redistributive, involving a lot of artisan labour and the artisans should be getting decently paid.

Fortunately for the rest of us, it’s easy to have fun in a car even without the expenditure of six or seven figure sums. Other things than the actual car matter more. The road, for a start. I’ve had a ball rubbing the lettering off the tyre sidewalls in a rental Toyota Aygo up in the Sierra Nevada in Spain. I’ve had a lousy and frustrating time stuck in traffic in a Porsche 918. I’ve also had a lousy time sharing a very nice car with a crashing bore, and a lovely time sharing a boring car with an interesting passenger.

This should be an inclusive hobby. With that thought I leave you. This is the last of my 200-plus columns for Top Gear. I’ve been here since 2004 with just one short intermission, so I guess you deserve a break. Still, it’s been a great honour, and if you’ve been reading you have my heartfelt thanks. I’m not gone: they’ve just asked me to move to other places in Top Gear’s magazine and online estate.

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Car prices are entirely relative to your wealth, but there’s fun out there for all