The perils of being an amateur car photographer

I guess it had to happen sooner or later. Having taken a quick snap of the Toyota Corolla you see above, I was approached by the supermarket’s security guard asking what on earth I was doing.

Thinking quickly, I blithered on about my love of the mundane and under appreciated, hoping he would accept my explanation and move away. Had it been a supercar or something vaguely exotic, he probably wouldn’t have given my actions a second thought, but this was different. Quite simply: people don’t take photos of 1993 Toyota Corollas. Not unless they’re about to whack them on Gumtree.

I could tell by the look on the security man’s face that he didn’t quite believe my explanation. He gave me the look that was a mixture of disbelief, concern and pity. Given that he followed me around the shop, he obviously didn’t see me as a trustworthy type. But to be fair to Mr Security, how can you trust somebody who takes phone snaps of a Corolla that, judging by its MOT history, might not see next Christmas?

Taking photos of cars when you’re an amateur snapper like me is a risky business. It’s almost impossible to look normal when you’re taking photos of cars away from an environment where it would be considered standard practice.

It’s fine if your name is Simon Clay or Andy Morgan, in which case you’re probably armed with enough camera equipment to shame a BBC studio and are dressed in thermal clothing that wouldn’t look out of place on a North Pole expedition. Professional photographers somehow manage to look right, even when they’re not taking photos of cars. They also have Thermos flasks that provide a never ending supply of hot liquid.

For the rest of us, you simply end up looking a bit weird.

Imagine, if you will, a scenario in which you turn up at a remote beauty spot to take some photos for your next new and exclusive must-read first drive review online road test. You roll into the car park and are about to find a suitable location for your oh-so-amazing glamour shots when you catch sight of a young family emerging from their Qashjuketara.

How weird do you look as you enter the car park on your own in a suspiciously oversized car that was clearly designed for a different demographic? Keen not to make eye contact, you do a swift u-turn, conscious that the mother of the family is making a note of your number plate, just in case your car appears on the next edition of Crimewatch.

Things aren’t much better when you attempt a photo by the side of the road. Typical, isn’t it? You’re driving along and you haven’t seen another car for miles. Realising the field of oilseed rape/snow-capped mountain/sun-drenched coastline/disused power station/derelict garage (delete as applicable) could provide a brochure-like backdrop to your out-of-focus snap, you park up, turn the wheel at a jaunty angle and cross the road in the hope that you’ll take a photo worthy of a Sony World Photography Award.

What happens? A stream of vehicles come into view. First, a bus-load of tourists, which is swiftly followed by a dumper truck and enough cyclists to fill a peloton. Conscious that you’ll look a bit strange taking a photograph of a base-spec Hyundai i10, you pretend to take a photograph of the scenery instead. Please tell me I’m not the only person to have done this.

Other get out of jail quick manoeuvres include pretending to get something from the back seat; preparing to remove something from your empty boot; going for a quick walk; or simply getting back into the car and driving off. Whatever happens, you end up looking a little deranged.

I’m fully aware that some people are fortunate enough to make a living out of taking random photos and videos of cars they spot in the street. But evidence suggests that these people tend to be based in London where every other car is either super-expensive or super-desirable. Taking photos of such cars is as normal as taking a selfie.

But I’m even less likely to take a snap of a supercar than I am a selfie, so I’ll continue to take photographs of J-reg Nissans and faded-red Polos. Imagine my joy when I discovered that Sunny has a fresh MOT and has covered a remarkable 243,000 miles from new. What, you can’t imagine? Right, moving on.

The embarrassment of being caught taking a photo of a random car is bad enough, but it’s a whole lot worse when the car’s owner springs into view. How on earth do you explain a love of a 1992 Nissan Sunny? Or why you’re so keen to take a photo of an original RAV4’s three-spoke alloy wheels. Sometimes it is better to hide around the corner until the owner has driven off.

Yes, I’ve been there, done that.

This is the life of an amateur car photographer. If you can relate to any of this waffle, pull up a chair. You’re amongst friends. If, on the other hand, you happen to see a tall, lanky chap who looks like he doesn’t get out much, do a Dionne Warwick and walk on by.

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Using a hand-held mobile phone at the wheel? You’re an idiot

Allow me, if you will, a moment to have a little rant about the use of hand-held mobile phones while driving. This shouldn’t take too long.

Yesterday, I completed a 500-mile round trip to Harpenden to see the good folk of Motoring Research. In case you were wondering, I took the Isuzu D-Max. Oh, you weren’t wondering. Anyway…

Maybe it’s because I work from home, so don’t get out much, but without wishing to come over all ‘angry from Manchester’ or ‘disgusted from Tunbridge Wells,’ the amount of people using a mobile phone at the wheel must be reaching epidemic proportions. It’s no exaggeration to suggest that on one small stretch of the M25, as many as one in two motorists were either texting or had a phone pressed to their ear.

Really, I don’t mind if these people want to kill themselves, that’s their prerogative. But could they be so kind as to go away and be distracted while doing something dangerous away from me, my family, my friends and other innocent motorists? Maybe they’d like to work a chainsaw while updating their Facebook status. Or wander across a rifle range while emailing the boss. Or wrestle a shark while sending a tweet.

The last time I looked, anyone caught using a mobile phone when driving will receive three points on their licence and a fine of £100. If it goes to court, the driver also faces disqualification and a fine of up to £1,000. The people I saw yesterday know what they’re doing is illegal, but they’re still prepared to take the risk. Why?

Part of the reason is that they know they’re unlikely to get caught. Speed, sorry, safety cameras won’t catch them. There are fewer police patrol cars on the road. And modern cars lure us into a false sense of security; cocooning us from the perils of driving a car at speed.

On one four-lane stretch of the M25, I noticed a Lexus NX drifting across three lanes. The driver was hogging the third lane, even though the second lane was empty, and occasionally he just about managed to keep his SUV between the white lines. As I pulled alongside him, you guessed it, he had a phone pressed to his right ear.

Two things are of note here. Firstly, the simple fact that somebody other than Will dot I Am finds the NX attractive (and he was paid to be associated with the Lexus). Secondly, that this seemingly intelligent and affluent chap was prepared to take the risk in such a blatant and obvious manner. I’ve checked: unsurprisingly, the £30k+ NX is fitted with Bluetooth connectivity as standard. So why wasn’t he using it?

This was just one of many examples of drivers mixing driving with… er… smartphoning. The lady doing 70mph in a MINI with both hands off the wheel. The man texting while driving his Insignia on the M1. The girl doing her makeup and holding a phone. The young(ish) lady using a smartphone while manoeuvring her Volkswagen Phaeton through a contraflow system. Threading that bad boy through the cones using only one hand was skilful, lady, but I’d rather you didn’t demonstrate this in my vicinity.

The problem isn’t restricted to motorways. Anyone familiar with the A303 will know that between Marsh and its end at Annie’s Tea Bar, it becomes a single carriageway, winding its way through the Blackdown Hills. For the driver of the Volkswagen Transporter van in front, this was an opportunity to demonstrate just how many times you can hit the kerb or cross the centre white line.

I never got to see if he was using a mobile phone, but it’s either that or he was drunk. Or simply unable to control a vehicle. But I thank him for the regular showers of dust kicked up by this love of hitting the kerb. Good work, sir.

Look, I know few of us can claim to be faultless drivers, but it’s the brazen disregard for the law that really winds me up. They must know it’s wrong, but they’re still prepared to do it. And in such an open manner, too.

It’s got to the point where the prospect of driver-less cars seems rather appealing, if only to ensure we’re not having to mix it with idiots and risk-takers. They’re just as annoying as middle lane hoggers, with the added ‘bonus’ that their actions could result in an accident and/or death.

How do we stop them? And I’m assuming here that, as a reader of PetrolBlog, you wouldn’t dream of using a phone while driving. A telex machine, maybe, or possibly a fax, but not a smartphone. Pesky things.

One thought is that the points and prizes penalty system isn’t sufficient enough to stop these people. Either that or they know they’re not going to get caught.

So how about this: if you’re caught using a hand-held phone while driving, your car is taken away, leaving you to endure the horrors of public transport. There you can use your phone until your heart’s content, as you share your journey and a few airborne diseases with fellow passengers. Alternatively, if that’s not severe enough, why not force these people to spend six months with a Mitsubishi Mirage? That ought to stop them.

To paraphrase Barry Davies, look at her face. Just look at her face.

Seriously, what can be so important that it has to be dealt with while driving? Unless you happen to be Barack Obama (hello, Mr. President) or Harry Redknapp on transfer deadline day, there’snothing happening on your smartphone that can’t be dealt with when you get to Membury Services. Leave the bloody thing in the glovebox.

Twenty years ago, the mobile phone wasn’t mainstream enough for using a phone at the wheel to be a problem. But without wishing to make you feel old, today’s youngest drivers would have been born in 1999, so they don’t know a world without mobiles. Some find it impossible to live without their phone for more than five minutes, desperate to see another video of a kitten falling off a toaster or if Mike in Accounts has approved their request for a new stapler.

But this isn’t a problem restricted to young drivers – far from it. Almost all of the drivers I saw yesterday were old enough to know better and looked intelligent enough to be aware of the risks.  A recent survey found that 57% of drivers say they feel “in control” using their mobile phone while driving, despite the fact that behind-the-wheel distractions account for 6% of all fatal accidents.

The evidence of my 500-mile trip yesterday suggests that the majority of these ‘in control’ drivers are anything but. If you’re one of the idiots I saw, do us all a favour and stop it. At least I wouldn’t have to wake upreally early to get this waffle off my chest.

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Red i Syndrome – the legacy of Scrappage

date: March 2016. Given the latest news regarding the victims of Scrappage and the petition to save them from the crusher, this old post from April 2010 deserves a new lease of life. Hat tip to@rotation for the inspiration. This all seems a long time ago…

So the UK Scrappage scheme is over, bringing the boom in car sales to a crashing end. The country is now littered with unwanted motors, patiently awaiting their fate en route to the great scrapyard in the sky.

We’re all too familiar with the images of old airfields overwhelmed with Scrappage cars, whilst a nosey around the back of many franchised dealers will reveal the sight of 80s and 90s cars that were deemed surplus to requirement by their old owners.

I myself have read with sadness the tales of Jaguar XK8s and XJSs, Ford Pumas, MGBs, Porsche 944s, Mazda MX-5s, BMW 528s, Saab 900 Turbos, Alfa GTVs etc that were suddenly less appealing to their owner than a soulless modern hatchback or supermini. One of the most famous cases was that of the 1950s Triumph Mayflower which was sent spiralling into oblivion. Part of British motoring heritage, quite literally crushed.

In the interests of balance, it would be fair to say that many of the cars I saw languishing around the back of my local dealers were largely anonymous, tired, rusty and unloved mid-90s hatchbacks. Base spec Clios, Fiestas, Polos, Rovers etc. No great loss, but if I’m still blogging 20 years later, they might be appearing in my regular ‘What ever happened to’ column.

What is sad, is the sight of collectable and interesting cars being sent to the crusher. I’ve read of a one-owner, low-mileage BMW 3-series, which by all accounts was in great condition. The owner apparently felt that he had no option than to take the £2k from the dealer, but would have much preferred to have kept the car alive. The thing is, with a little research and a bit of time, he would have probably have made around the same Scrappage value advertising it on some of the specialist forums, leaving him to free to make a better choice of new or nearly new car. Sad for the car. Sad for the owner.

But there’s one lasting legacy of the Scrappage scheme that has seemingly gone unnoticed. Like a red plague descending on our streets, around every corner, in every supermarket car park and like a beacon on every commuter run. Like a thief in the night it has appeared from the shadows, silently appearing in our daily lives. Blink and you would have not have noticed it. But it is here now and there’s no going back. Our towns and cities have quite literally been painted red.

I speak of the Hyundai i Series – the i10, the i20 and the i30. But not just any old i Series. The red i Series. For the best part of the 20th Century, the UK was synonymous with many great red icons. The red post box. The red telephone box. The red Routemaster bus. The red post van. Red Rum. Red Ken…OK, I’m stretching it now, but you get my point.

Now you’re going to have to get used to the red i Series becoming our national icon for the 21st Century. There’s no getting rid of  them. Unlike the Hyundai Pony of the last century, these things are built to last. Each one comes with a blasted five year warranty, so even in 2015 it will still be maintained lovingly by a friendly Hyundai dealer.

Of course, by 2015 and based on the company’s current growth, Hyundai will be the main party in government, will have bought-out Tesco and will be the fourth judge on Britain’s Got Talent. Your children will reading about Thomas the i Series, Little Red i Series and In the Red i Series. And to top it all, Top Gear’s Star in a reasonably priced car will have been renamed to Star in the only car available in the UK today.

Need a reminder of what these cars look like? A likely story. But nevertheless, here they are in all their…well…redness:

Yes, you remember them now? They’re the ones that are permanently etched on to your retina. The last thing you see before you drift off in a restless sleep.

Their domination of the streets isn’t at all surprising when you consider the sheer numbers that were sold during Scrappage. According to a recent report in the Daily Telepraph, some 38,870 cars were sold up to the end of February, making Hyundai the biggest beneficiary of the scheme. Full report here http://bit.ly/cHlOyd

As the report goes on to say, the price of a basic i10 was just £4,995 during the scheme, or £85 a month on contract hire. Whilst I really don’t get the appeal or the logic, I can understand the attraction. Based purely on brass tacks, the idea of ditching a classic car that may cost up to £2k to get through the next MOT has obvious benefits. And yes, some very tired and mundane cars are now off our streets. But the whole idea of buying a car in the same way that someone would buy a fridge freezer simply leaves me cold. Freezing cold.

I’ve often complained that my route into the office each day is devoid of any faintly interesting cars, but this has been accentuated by the arrival of the red horrors. I guess the new owners are happy and indeed, they all look pretty smug with their feeling of getting something on the cheap.

But when I look at them, I can’t help but think of them as terminators. Whilst the reality might be that a white base model Clio may have been sacrificed, I can’t help but see a BMW M535i or a Porsche 944S. OrJonny Mathis’s old Talbot Matra Rancho. Or maybe even a Renault 12 Gordini.

Rumour has it that when a driver of a red i Series drives past a shop window, it isn’t the reflection of a Hyundai that peers back at them. Oh no. In the reflection they see one of the countless number of interesting and potentially collectable motors that are now left idly awaiting for the hooded claw to grab them by the roof pillars and thrust them into the abyss. The ghost will forever taunt them, much like we’ll be forever haunted by the red i Series. Forever.

And ever.

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