Vauxhall Monaro
[December 18 2003]
You have to feel a little sorry for Vauxhall as it thrashes around in the General Motors catalogue, trying to find something we might actually want to buy. First of all, they decided to import a selection of cars like the Cadillac STS and Corvette from America, but this ended badly. Even Vauxhall says "We know everyone who bought one by name". So now they're trying their luck with a car made in Australia.
On the face of it, this sounds even more hare-brained because Australia is not exactly ground zero when it comes to engineering innovation or excellence. Indeed, in the country's entire 200 year history, their only contribution has been the rotary washing line.
There are no Aussie planes, no Aussie food blenders or cameras or microwave ovens. Even my barbecue set was made in Canada. And, so far as cars are concerned, it's even worse. There was a bloke called James Holden who started out making saddles for horses and then after just 10 years of making motorcycle side cars was bought out by General Motors. And then presumably went to join the rest of the continent in the pub.
Nonetheless, today, there are still cars that bear his name and one of them has been singled out by Vauxhall as The Next Big Thing to hit Britain. God knows why. Choosing to buy an Australian car is a bit like choosing to drink a German wine. Why do you think all Australian motoring journalists end up over here? Because there's bugger all to do at home. Cars. It's just not what they do well.
However, I decided to have a look at the thing which, in the flesh, is like a two-door Vauxhall Omega, only much much bigger. Its proportions may work well in the Northern Territory but in Surrey, at our test track, it felt like a whale shark in a goldfish bowl.
I shalln't bore you with the styling details because there weren't any. And anyway, you can judge for yourselves. But for what it's worth, I thought it was quite handsome in an inoffensive, didn't-really-notice-it, sort of way.
You can probably tell from my tone here that I wasn't expecting the Monaro to be much cop. I felt it was a bit like going round for dinner with people who only know you because your kids are in the same class. You know you're in for an evening of mind-bending tedium.
But when I went through the door of the Monaro, it had a bit of a surprise up its sleeve. Tons of recreational drugs, and why don't you help yourself to my daughter while you're at it. This car is enormous, rounded, proper, wide-eyed, teeth-bared, stomach-flittering fun with a big, loud F.
Up front, you get the Corvette's 5.7-litre V8 which sends its 380bhp down a prop shaft and to the rear wheels via a limited slip differential. For those of you used to active yaw control from your Evo VIII or two-stage turbocharging from your Porsche, the Monaro will seem like switching to shepherd's pie after a week at the Peach and Peacock. But trust me on this, it works.
So far as speed's concerned, it goes from 0-60mph in 5.2 seconds and doesn't run out of crocodile rock until it hits 178. That makes it 1mph faster than the Lotus Carlton and, thus, the fastest Vauxhall ever. I know that's like winning the title of 'Bedford's most interesting accountant', but I raced it against a Jaguar XKR and it was extraordinary. The Jag leaped off the line like... well, like a Jaguar actually, while the Monaro was bogged down by an absurdly tall first gear.
But as the cars ate up the runway, the Aussie kept on gaining and gaining until at the braking point one mile down the road, they were dead level. That, then, is what you'd expect. American style straight line oomph from what, after all, is an American engine. There's an American style burble too, but there's nothing even remotely American about the way the Monaro corners. Which is remarkable when you remember it comes from a land with fewer bends than an Etch a Sketch drawing.
Turn in, add a splash of power and within moments, it will serve up the most delicious smoked power slide in the history of Top Gear's test track. The BMW Z4 was easy to handle down there. The Mazda RX-8 was better still (in the dry at least), but the Monaro was a whole new ball game. Sticking with ball games, the gulf between this and the aforementioned Jag is as big as the gulf between our rugby team and theirs. Only this time, they win. The Monaro is effortless hooliganism.
But when you settle down, the car does too. The seats that held you in place so marvellously on the track turn into armchairs, the ride is weirdly compliant, the steering is light and, because the engine has enough torque to uproot James May in an argument (probably, it's never actually been achieved), you can stick it in sixth and potter home at three, doing hundreds of miles to the gallon.
Inside, you get space for four and electric everything. The only thing that's missing is satellite navigation. But then it's only going to cost £35,000 when it goes on sale next May. The cheaper 330bhp version, with a top speed of 'only' 168mph will be here in April for £28,500. To sum up then, damn. Damn, damn, damn and double damn.
I was rather hoping to hate the Holden. I was hoping to conclude by saying the Aussies should stick to waving at flies. And I was dying to poke some more fun at Vauxhall for making yet another half-arsed and useless decision.
But the Monaro is a wonderful car. Too big, too brash and too loud, for some, perhaps. I can't see too many outside Chipping Norton church on a Sunday, for instance. But if you have an electric blue Subaru now, or a banana yellow 911, and fancy something a bit different next time round, you shouldn't give a XXXX for anything else.
