After last week’s brain fart, I’m pleased to report that sanity has returned, helped my a marvellous weekend roadtrip to visit family and do some other things in sunny Devon. I often seem to find myself travelling solo long distance in the XM and I really do enjoy it – though naturally it seems a bit selfish to be wafting along in a huge barn with even my lovely wife joining me.

Another roadtrip, almost flawless

There was an added element of panic initially when paranoia got the better of me, and I decided I simply had to get the XM’s cambelt replaced. I had no idea whether it had been done recently or not and the last thing I wanted was an expensive, engine-wrecking failure. So, the XM was whisked over to Sparrow Automotive all a bit last minute, which helps explain why it was still being worked on when I arrived to take it to Devon. Pete is a very busy man!

I had to turn my sat nav into a manual map to navigate my way across Hereford due to simply horrific jams. I’ve no idea what was going on, but cars simply weren’t moving. Eventually, I got to the other side, after exploring many side roads, and filled the XM’s tank. Over £80. Gulp.

Then it was down to Newport, across the Severn Crossing, down the M5 and the rest was easy. Or was it? No. The motorway had been pretty blissful considering it was rush hour by the time I got past Bristol. But roadworks on the slip road at junction 27 of the M5 were absolutely crippling. I’d like to meet the person who decided that was a satisfactory way of doing things. It took over half an hour to travel one mile. ONE!

At this point, I noticed the temperature gauge was sweeping upwards. That was impressive in itself, because The Seahorses “Blinded by the Sun” was blaring out of the cassette player with perfect timing – the XM still had no headlining after the sunroof saga, and I therefore had no sunvisors. There was no doubting it though. The gauge was now above 90 and didn’t seem likely to stop. I’m sure the fans are meant to kick in at that point. I resorted to putting the heater on full blast, which took things back below 90. So, Devon’s stupid road planners almost cooked my XM.

Once up to speed along the A39, the temperature went back to its usual spot and all was well. And all remained well for my time in Bideford and the surrounding area and my return home. In fact, the XM really is a truly marvellous weapon for a long-distance jaunt – though my only points of reference at the moment are an exceedingly tiny, Malaysian city car and a French peasant wagon. Still, the XM is relaxing in the extreme. Best of all, I got back home after over 400 miles with well over half a tank of fuel left. Astonishing given that I was hard on the speed limit at all times.

XM pauses in Welsh border country. Stunning. View and car.

And there’s another point of reference. This was a repeat of the trip I attempted in an electric car in November last year – a journey of stress, boredom and cold toes. The ‘range’ of the XM meant I simply didn’t have to worry about whether I would make it to the next stop. At one point, I drove for three hours without a break (other than sitting in a stationary car in the first lane of the M5 for half an hour) which is something most electric cars can’t even contemplate. I even avoided a breakdown by merely putting the heater on. Something I’d been loathe to do in the Nissan e-NV200.

I enjoyed it a lot. I just love long-distance jaunts. Driving into the sunset, music playing, car wafting – as much as I love the 2CV, this really is something the XM is exceptional at. It’ll be even better when I refit the sunvisors…

Time was running out. My 2CV was creeping towards its 200,000th mile, but there was a serious danger that the MOT was going to run out before it got there. There was an amazing feeling of deja vu here, as I’d had much the same dilemma way back in 2002, when Elly the 2CV was nearing her 100,000th mile with an MOT deadline. I solved that problem with a 350-mile day trip to Snowdonia. Now, I lived in Wales. Where was I going to go?

That problem was solved by an invite to visit family in Sussex. There’s nowt like seeing our nephew and neice (and associated family and animals) to motivate us to get on the road. Even in the days leading up to the trip, I found myself looking longingly at the XM. Comfortable seats. Absolutely serenity at motorway speeds. It was clearly  the sensible choice.

Pah. Where’s the fun in that? My wife pointed out that it was no wonder Elly the 2CV was struggling to reach 200,000 when I kept finding excuses not to drive her. It’s true. Her annual mileage has plunged below 3000 at times in recent years. It has been over 10,000 at times. So, I committed to the plan, checked the levels and off we went!

The trip didn’t get off to the best of starts. Within just a few miles, I’d rounded a corner and, distracted by an approaching van, drove into a HUGE puddle. This sent up a wall of water, which we then drove into. Elly began spluttering and banging, popped out her air cleaner and steamed up like a sauna. The van driver must have found it hilarious. Elly cleared her throat and picked up and off we went, though I stopped once we’ve dropped down from fearsomely chilly parts to refit the air cleaner.

Oh dear! Not an ideal start. Too much water sees Elly struggle.

We drove on, but had to stop again at Builth Wells due to a misbehaving front indicator. I wiggle the bulb. It worked again. We drove on. We got as far as the Brecon Beacons before it played up again. We stopped for tea and further investigation.

A duff contact was causing the indicator to not flash.

This was a successful fix. We headed for Newport and were soon tearing along the M4, heading east. The only real problem was sunlight – it was blazing in through the side window. I was forced to block it out with the sun visor. This was hardly the end of the world. We did have the misfortune to visit Membury Services on the M4. My recommendation is that you do not. The car park is disgraceful, and the way the traffic flows have been designed is absolutely hopeless. Forcing trucks to merge from the right – that could only be designed by someone who has never driven a truck. Or had even a modicum of common sense. We filled up, with annoyingly expensive fuel, and drove on. At least it doesn’t take much fuel to fill a 2CV. We’d used £21 of fuel so far.

We made it to the M25 very swiftly indeed, and stopped at the new, rather delightful Cobham Services for another break. This was much more like it, and the weather was simply fabulous.

Basking in the sun at Cobham services

As you can see, the grille muff remained in place. Official advice is to put it on below 10 degrees, which it was, and remove it at 15. It’s fine to keep it in place at motorway speeds UNLESS you own a very late 2CV, on which extra sound-proofing runs the risk of you cooking the engine.

The M25 wasn’t too bad for traffic, but the road surface was something else. The concrete sections set off a noise inside the car that made it sound like every mechanical part was starting to seize. It wasn’t very pleasant at all. The odd short section of tarmac reassured us that our steed was not about to give up.

2CV on the M25, and the most horrible road surface in the world

However, we made it to Sussex and there was much merriment, tea and some plant swapping. We know how to live.

The next day, we didn’t even leave the house. Our nephew and niece kept us quite busy without us having to go anywhere. The day after that, we went off to explore Lewes. While Elly was parked up, she managed to attract a rather fine friend.

2CV meets another XM

I guessed that the XM must be owned by an enthusiast – look at the number plate and general condition. I wasn’t wrong. ‘FakeConcern’ had posted his own version of this photo on the internet and contact has now been established. It seems Elly is famous enough for plenty of people to recognise her.

I didn’t meet ‘FakeConcern’ though. I took this photo before we headed off for a second tour of Lewes, and it was still there when we returned.

All too soon, it was time to head home. We left Sussex at half eight this morning, knowing that should we make it home successfully, Elly would hit 200,000 miles at some point. With that in mind, we decided to stay off the motorway. The weather forecast was another reason to stick with A roads – a headwind was very likely. When your car has only 29bhp and the aerodynamics of a crumpled paper bag, it pays to pay attention to this sort of thing!

The A272 is a largely delightful road that snakes across the south. It’s certainly a lot more enjoyable than the M25/M4, with pretty places like Petworth proving an utter joy to pass through. There was a section of A303, then some other road I’ve forgotten and eventually, the A417 bypassing Swindon. We had a brief stop for lunch just after Swindon, before heading to Gloucester – which is where Elly hit the second major milestone of her life.

Zero miles! 200,000 miles for my little Tin Snail

She didn’t choose the best of locations, so I had to hurriedly use a bus stop to grab the above photo before we quickly got moving again. After that, it was foot to the floor as we raced into Wales. The headwind was making 60mph quite hard work, so perhaps raced isn’t quite the right word…

It was starting to feel like a true marathon now. I was starting to feel tired and Elly was starting to groan in a manner that suggested that she’d had enough too (must grease those knife edges…). Hailstorms livened things up, and leant a sense of urgency – worse weather was a possibility. All was well coming over the Elan Valley a second time though. We were almost home.

The Elan Valley mountain road means home isn’t far away

As we plunged over crests and weaved our way through the mountains, I recalled how I’d done much the same thing 13 years earlier, as I marked this car’s 100,000th mile. You really can’t beat the rural roads of Wales for driving joy. It’s a country I like very much, for this and other reasons. I’m not sure Elly will make it to 300,000 miles though. Her body is a right mess. But I’m not going to dwell on the future at the moment. Instead, I shall celebrate my incredible relationship with an incredible little car.

111,000 miles together. Not bad for a tiny little motor car.

This post isn’t aimed at those of us who regularly drive classic cars, but it is designed to help folk without classic experience. What is a classic car like to drive? Are they all horribly slow? Why do they take so long to pull away at junctions? What are those strange controls?

To make life easier, I’m focussing on Post-war classics – those made since 1945. Even then, controls aren’t always labelled in the same way, so for the classic novice, the interior of an elderly car can be a confusing place to sit. If it makes you feel better, classic fans often feel just as confused when clambering into a modern car, where there are more buttons on the steering wheel than the entire dashboard of many classics! Before you can start the engine, you generally need the control below.

If you own a modern car, you probably don’t recognise this.

The choke control knob adjusts the mixture and throttle for a cold start. The logo on it shows a butterfly valve restricting air flow. Modern cars do this automatically, but most classics don’t and require user input. Knowing how much choke to use can be a bit of an art. It depends on ambient temperature, engine temperature and how long since the engine last ran. You also generally need to steadily reduce the choke as the engine warms. Again, this varies from car to car. A Citroen 2CV can generally run choke-free after less than a mile, but a classic Mini may take a few miles before you can shove the choke fully home. It sounds more complicated than it really is and for many, it’s like using a clutch. You just no longer really think about it.

Starting the engine can now proceed. You might need a bit of throttle, but you might not need any at all. You build a relationship with a classic car, and that means you have to discover what it needs. Some classics require you to turn a key, others have a starter button – a recent trend in moderns too.

We’d better talk about gearboxes before setting off. They can be rather clunky and some lack synchromesh on all gears. It’s something we take for granted these days, but synchromesh allows for smooth changes at all speeds. It effectively gets the gear cogs up to the required speed before they mesh, so there’s no crunch. Many post war classics lack synchromesh on first gear and some – Fiat 500s for instance – lack any synchromesh at all! Going up the gearbox, that’s not much of a problem. Going back down is more of a challenge though. For that reason, many classics need to come to a complete halt before first gear is selected. That’s why they can sometimes seem to linger at junctions. They’re not doing it just to annoy you! Experienced classic drivers learn a trick called double-declutching so that downchanges can be conducted on the move. It requires some skill and familiarity with the car. Don’t worry about it if you are a novice, but do note that you may need to come to a complete halt to select first without a crunch. A tip is to select second, then first when you have stopped as this will stop the gear cogs whirring and will allow a crunch-free change.

Steering is the next challenge. Power assistance is rare on classics, though some larger ones will have it. Where fitted, it’s often very light indeed. If it isn’t fitted, the steering will be very heavy at slow speeds, bordering on very heavy indeed at car park speeds. You’ll also notice that the steering gets heavier as your cornering speed increases. In classics, you often feel the speed you are travelling far more than in a modern. It can be hard work. The steering can be vague, especially if a steering box is used, which can make driving at speed very hard work. It’s one reason many classics prefer to travel at a gentler pace. The other is that older engines aren’t always happy to be driven hard.

Handling can be very different too. Skinnier tyres and different suspension designs mean many older vehicles just can’t be driven as quickly as a modern hatchback – certainly unless you are very skilled in how these vehicles handle on the limit. With classics, it’s often more about enjoying the journey than arriving in the quickest time possible. They’re not all bad – my 2CV can certainly corner very quickly, and so can classic Minis. Morris Minors on standard-width tyres are at something of a disadvantage though, and pushing one hard can be a scary introduction into the world of oversteer – where the back end pushes out and you go sidewards.

Driving classic cars can be challenging, but is huge fun!

Then we come to brakes. They can be awful by modern standards. Even a 2CV, which has very powerful brakes, has a pedal that needs a good shove to get any braking effect. This is because it doesn’t have a brake servo. These use a vacuum created by the engine to boost the braking effect. It’s why many moderns require just a light touch on the middle pedal. That said, a Citroen DS has a rubber button on the floor which can produce very strong braking with the lightest of touches. Certainly, it’s a world away from other cars of 1955. The lack of braking is another reason why a classic owner may choose to drive comfortably below a posted speed limit. There’s no ABS either, so the old art of cadence braking may be required in an emergency. Again, I’ll leave Wikipedia to the details. Needless to say, it’s an art that has saved my skin on several situations!

If all this is making classic cars sound like a complete nightmare, then I apologise. However, some people do jump into older cars and are horrified by what they find! You have to set your expectation levels. Some older cars – Rover P6s, bigger Citroens for example – are truly exceptional to drive, but they still don’t behave like modern cars.

Triumph Herald is thoroughly charming and quite different too.

Nor do they all behave the same. There can be a vast difference in how older cars drive, even when you compare rivals at the time – such as the BMC 1100, Ford Escort Mk1 and Vauxhall Viva. Each has a far more distinctive character than rivals of today.

Above all else, older cars somehow feel more alive. They have personality. You have to learn how to get the best out of them and can’t just expect the car to do all the work. Journeys become a team game and the most tedious of journeys can be turned into something far more joyous. Then there’s the looks. Check out the Triumph Herald above. You rarely see a modern car that’s even half as bright and cheery. We seem to have gone back to the black and white days in fact – a sea of monochrome.

So, while some re-education might be needed for you to get the best out of a classic car, overall, it’s well worth the effort. But even if you don’t own a classic and never will, please show a little patience. Drivers of older cars are not deliberately trying to hold you up. It’s just that when you’re driving a nice old car, you learn that you don’t need to rush to have a good time.