Clarkson says the new STi is for the 'hard of thinking'
#31
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Clarkson up his own **** as usual. Too busy loving the sound of his own voice, whether it be aloud or his in head, ranting on about non-relative subjects rather than actually writing an article where he reviews the car in FULL.
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Have to agree he's probably right.
Although not putting myself in the demographic he likes to describe, I'm not ruling out owning one of these yet. I guess you get the Subaru thing or you don't.
Allan
Although not putting myself in the demographic he likes to describe, I'm not ruling out owning one of these yet. I guess you get the Subaru thing or you don't.
Allan
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As a (former) Subaru owner, I can happily and smugly announce that I NEVER purchased any form of Subaru/WRC/Prodrive related clothing ![smug](images/smilies/smug.gif)
Owners of such clothing kind of remind of the Friends epsiode "The One With Joey's Porsche"
So I think there is a hint of truth in what Clarkson says
![smug](images/smilies/smug.gif)
Owners of such clothing kind of remind of the Friends epsiode "The One With Joey's Porsche"
![Lol1](images/smilies/lol1.gif)
![Big Grin](images/smilies/biggrin.gif)
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#38
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I wish more of us could make millions by spouting our opinionated drivel like this talentless tool.If you drive an impreza you are thick,yes a mature and intelligent opinion if ever there was one.He as the use of every motor going and still can't drive,just resorts to twa*tish powerslides (yawn).Jeremy my dear stop being a snob,remember you came from Rotherham before life in Chipping Norton.Whats worse a baseball cap in an impreza or a midlife crisis in a gallardo soft top?
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Also Clarkson never owned a 'GT40' he famously doesn't fit in one.
#43
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Just ask them this simple question: “Are you wearing a Subaru rally jacket?” Because if they are, you will need to speak more slowly.
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Sorry, Ford, I have to ask for my money back
By Jeremy Clarkson of The Sunday Times
Thirty-five years ago I promised myself that one day I’d own a Ford GT40, the blue-collar supercar that took an axle grinder to Ferrari’s aristocratic halo at Le Mans. But 25 years ago my dreams were dashed as I grew too tall to fit inside.
Happily, in 2002 Ford announced that it was to build a modern-day version of the old racer. It would, they said, cost less than £100,000 and do more than 200mph. They also said it would be much bigger than the original so pylon-people like me would be able to drive it.
And so, two years ago, having tested a prototype in America, I placed an order for one of the 28 that were coming to Britain.
As the months groaned by there were rumours of big price increases, insatiable thirst and catastrophic suspension failure. But there were also rumours of the supercharged V8 pumping out 550bhp and a mountain of torque so massive it was breaking the testing equipment. So I didn’t mind.
I didn’t even mind when it arrived at my house one month ago inside a truck which had “On Time” written down the side. As we know from America’s arrival into the second world war, their concept of “on time” differs slightly from ours.
And anyway, it looked so gorgeous, a mass of bulging muscle struggling to contain that massive 5.4 litre supercharged heart. It doesn’t look like a GT40 but it looks like a GT40 looks in your head. And it’s huge. Longer than a Volvo XC90 and as wide as a Hummer.
Which is why, on its first run, to London, it was like a blue and white Pied Piper trailing a stream of ratty hatches in its wake. Everyone was taking pictures, waving, giving me the thumb’s up. Never, not once in 15 years of road testing cars, had anything drawn such a massive crowd. And never had the crowd been so overtly supportive.
Of course you can’t run a car like this without a few problems rearing their head from time to time. It’s too wide for the width restrictions on Hammersmith bridge — backing up earned me a slot on the traffic news that morning. The turning circle means every mini roundabout becomes a three-point turn, and at oblique junctions, as is the case in a Ferrari Enzo, you absolutely cannot see if anything’s coming.
But set against this is a surprisingly quiet and civilised ride. It’s like a power station. Silent, as it gets on with the job of brightening up your life.
Mind you, you are constantly aware of the Herculean power that nestles just over your right shoulder. Partly because you can see the supercharger belt whirring away in the rear-view mirror and partly because it makes a deep, dog-baiting rumble when you do put your foot down.
Ford asked that I keep the revs below 4000 for the first thousand miles. But since 100mph equates to 1900rpm it’s not really a hardship. And at this speed you’re doing 15mpg, which isn’t bad at all. But three days later everything started to go very, very wrong.
Leaving the Top Gear studio, the immobiliser refused to un-immobilise itself. So the car was pushed into the hangar and I went home instead in a rented Toyota Corolla.
Ford sent a tow truck, changed the immobiliser and delivered the car to my house the following day. “Is it fixed?” I asked. “Yes,” they said.
It wasn’t. At three in the morning the alarm blew. And then again at four. This meant my wife started to refer to it as “that f****** car”, which took away a bit of the sheen, if I’m honest.
The next day, on the way back to the garage, I received a call on the hands-free phone from the tracker company. “Your car’s been stolen, sir,” said the man. “I’m sure it hasn’t,” I said, “because I’m in it.”
Fearing that I might be the burglar, the man asked if I could give him my password. Tricky one that, since I have a different password for everything on the internet and can never remember any of them. And that’s a big problem, because the man at the end of the phone has the power to remotely shut down the engine.
I threatened him, lightly, with some physical harm, but this didn’t work so I had to guess. “Aardvark,” I ventured. “Abacus, Aesop, additional...”
Eventually he took pity and I was able to deliver the car back to Ford with some stern warnings about the alarm, the immobiliser and the tracker system, all of which seemed to be malfunctioning. As a courtesy car they gave me a Ford Focus, with a diesel engine. Nice.
Two days later the GT was back. “Is it fixed?” I asked, again. “Yes,” they said
Five minutes out of the Ford garage I received a text to say my car had been stolen. And then, in the next half hour, three more. So, counting the two I’d received before I was even out of bed, that meant my car had been stolen five times before 9am.
This time I rang Ford and explained that I would personally come over there and insert the whole car up the chairman’s backside if it wasn’t fixed. And while I was on the phone a yellow warning light came on the dash.
“There’s a yellow warning light on the dash,” I bellowed, like Michael Winner, only angrier. “Oh, that’ll be something to do with the engine management system,” said the man with the bleeding ears. “You’ll need to get it looked at . . .”
When Ford gave me the car back after its third hospital trip in as many weeks, I didn’t ask if the security system was fixed. Because the notion of it still being broken was simply inconceivable.
So imagine my surprise when, one hour later, while at my daughter’s school play, I heard a familiar siren. I couldn’t believe it. The alarm had gone off again.
In a fury this time, I called Ford and explained, loudly, that Roush, the company charged with servicing and maintaining the 28 GTs in Britain, was plainly incompetent. And that there was simply no point asking it to fix the alarm again because it’d had three goes already.
I then did something the man at Ford wasn’t expecting. I asked for my money back.
And that, the next day, is what happened.
They put £126,000 in my account and sent a man to pick up the car. “Is it the alarm system?” he said. “They all do that.”
So there we are. A 35-year dream. A two-year wait. Ten years of d4mn hard work. And what do I get? The most miserable month’s motoring it is possible to imagine.
Strangely, however, as the GT rumbled down my drive for the last time, I felt like Julie Walters watching Michael Caine getting on the plane at the end of Educating Rita. I actually cried.
There’s a very good reason for this. I genuinely believe that some machines have a soul and I can’t bear to think of my Ford sitting in a warehouse now, unloved and unwanted. It is fine. It is perfect. It knows it’s a great, great car that was ruined by a useless ape who fitted a crummy aftermarket alarm system.
Ford has said I can buy the car back any time. It has even lent me an Aston Martin DB9 while I make up my mind. I don’t know though. I just don’t know.
Normally I finish these columns with an opinion of mine. But this time it’s the other way round. I’d love to hear yours.
One thing: I know I could sell the car privately and make a £50,000 profit. But I have never profited from my position as a motoring journalist. And I never will.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model: Ford GT
Engine: 5409cc V8 supercharged
Power: 550bhp @ 6500rpm
Torque: 500lb ft @ 3750rpm
Transmission: Six-speed manual
Fuel: 14.6mpg (combined cycle)
CO2: N/A
Acceleration 0-60mph: 3.8sec
Top speed: 212mph
Price: £126,000
Verdict: So good you can have mine
Rating: Five stars
By Jeremy Clarkson of The Sunday Times
![](http://img19.imageshack.us/img19/5656/0210480001ph.jpg)
Thirty-five years ago I promised myself that one day I’d own a Ford GT40, the blue-collar supercar that took an axle grinder to Ferrari’s aristocratic halo at Le Mans. But 25 years ago my dreams were dashed as I grew too tall to fit inside.
Happily, in 2002 Ford announced that it was to build a modern-day version of the old racer. It would, they said, cost less than £100,000 and do more than 200mph. They also said it would be much bigger than the original so pylon-people like me would be able to drive it.
And so, two years ago, having tested a prototype in America, I placed an order for one of the 28 that were coming to Britain.
As the months groaned by there were rumours of big price increases, insatiable thirst and catastrophic suspension failure. But there were also rumours of the supercharged V8 pumping out 550bhp and a mountain of torque so massive it was breaking the testing equipment. So I didn’t mind.
I didn’t even mind when it arrived at my house one month ago inside a truck which had “On Time” written down the side. As we know from America’s arrival into the second world war, their concept of “on time” differs slightly from ours.
And anyway, it looked so gorgeous, a mass of bulging muscle struggling to contain that massive 5.4 litre supercharged heart. It doesn’t look like a GT40 but it looks like a GT40 looks in your head. And it’s huge. Longer than a Volvo XC90 and as wide as a Hummer.
Which is why, on its first run, to London, it was like a blue and white Pied Piper trailing a stream of ratty hatches in its wake. Everyone was taking pictures, waving, giving me the thumb’s up. Never, not once in 15 years of road testing cars, had anything drawn such a massive crowd. And never had the crowd been so overtly supportive.
Of course you can’t run a car like this without a few problems rearing their head from time to time. It’s too wide for the width restrictions on Hammersmith bridge — backing up earned me a slot on the traffic news that morning. The turning circle means every mini roundabout becomes a three-point turn, and at oblique junctions, as is the case in a Ferrari Enzo, you absolutely cannot see if anything’s coming.
But set against this is a surprisingly quiet and civilised ride. It’s like a power station. Silent, as it gets on with the job of brightening up your life.
Mind you, you are constantly aware of the Herculean power that nestles just over your right shoulder. Partly because you can see the supercharger belt whirring away in the rear-view mirror and partly because it makes a deep, dog-baiting rumble when you do put your foot down.
Ford asked that I keep the revs below 4000 for the first thousand miles. But since 100mph equates to 1900rpm it’s not really a hardship. And at this speed you’re doing 15mpg, which isn’t bad at all. But three days later everything started to go very, very wrong.
Leaving the Top Gear studio, the immobiliser refused to un-immobilise itself. So the car was pushed into the hangar and I went home instead in a rented Toyota Corolla.
Ford sent a tow truck, changed the immobiliser and delivered the car to my house the following day. “Is it fixed?” I asked. “Yes,” they said.
It wasn’t. At three in the morning the alarm blew. And then again at four. This meant my wife started to refer to it as “that f****** car”, which took away a bit of the sheen, if I’m honest.
The next day, on the way back to the garage, I received a call on the hands-free phone from the tracker company. “Your car’s been stolen, sir,” said the man. “I’m sure it hasn’t,” I said, “because I’m in it.”
Fearing that I might be the burglar, the man asked if I could give him my password. Tricky one that, since I have a different password for everything on the internet and can never remember any of them. And that’s a big problem, because the man at the end of the phone has the power to remotely shut down the engine.
I threatened him, lightly, with some physical harm, but this didn’t work so I had to guess. “Aardvark,” I ventured. “Abacus, Aesop, additional...”
Eventually he took pity and I was able to deliver the car back to Ford with some stern warnings about the alarm, the immobiliser and the tracker system, all of which seemed to be malfunctioning. As a courtesy car they gave me a Ford Focus, with a diesel engine. Nice.
Two days later the GT was back. “Is it fixed?” I asked, again. “Yes,” they said
Five minutes out of the Ford garage I received a text to say my car had been stolen. And then, in the next half hour, three more. So, counting the two I’d received before I was even out of bed, that meant my car had been stolen five times before 9am.
This time I rang Ford and explained that I would personally come over there and insert the whole car up the chairman’s backside if it wasn’t fixed. And while I was on the phone a yellow warning light came on the dash.
“There’s a yellow warning light on the dash,” I bellowed, like Michael Winner, only angrier. “Oh, that’ll be something to do with the engine management system,” said the man with the bleeding ears. “You’ll need to get it looked at . . .”
When Ford gave me the car back after its third hospital trip in as many weeks, I didn’t ask if the security system was fixed. Because the notion of it still being broken was simply inconceivable.
So imagine my surprise when, one hour later, while at my daughter’s school play, I heard a familiar siren. I couldn’t believe it. The alarm had gone off again.
In a fury this time, I called Ford and explained, loudly, that Roush, the company charged with servicing and maintaining the 28 GTs in Britain, was plainly incompetent. And that there was simply no point asking it to fix the alarm again because it’d had three goes already.
I then did something the man at Ford wasn’t expecting. I asked for my money back.
And that, the next day, is what happened.
They put £126,000 in my account and sent a man to pick up the car. “Is it the alarm system?” he said. “They all do that.”
So there we are. A 35-year dream. A two-year wait. Ten years of d4mn hard work. And what do I get? The most miserable month’s motoring it is possible to imagine.
Strangely, however, as the GT rumbled down my drive for the last time, I felt like Julie Walters watching Michael Caine getting on the plane at the end of Educating Rita. I actually cried.
There’s a very good reason for this. I genuinely believe that some machines have a soul and I can’t bear to think of my Ford sitting in a warehouse now, unloved and unwanted. It is fine. It is perfect. It knows it’s a great, great car that was ruined by a useless ape who fitted a crummy aftermarket alarm system.
Ford has said I can buy the car back any time. It has even lent me an Aston Martin DB9 while I make up my mind. I don’t know though. I just don’t know.
Normally I finish these columns with an opinion of mine. But this time it’s the other way round. I’d love to hear yours.
One thing: I know I could sell the car privately and make a £50,000 profit. But I have never profited from my position as a motoring journalist. And I never will.
![](http://img273.imageshack.us/img273/2673/0210476001eu.jpg)
VITAL STATISTICS
Model: Ford GT
Engine: 5409cc V8 supercharged
Power: 550bhp @ 6500rpm
Torque: 500lb ft @ 3750rpm
Transmission: Six-speed manual
Fuel: 14.6mpg (combined cycle)
CO2: N/A
Acceleration 0-60mph: 3.8sec
Top speed: 212mph
Price: £126,000
Verdict: So good you can have mine
Rating: Five stars
#45
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come on fellas we all know j.c,is a legend and a car god.he says what he thinks and doesnt care about what any one else has to say because hes always right and there always wrong.but just because he says something doesnt mean we all have to think the same as him at the end of the day hes just your typical testosterone fueled male whith petrol running through his vains and a passion for cars and the love for speed.LONG LIVE J,C.
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I'm a fan of Jeremy, and I respect his views, even though mine frequently differ. More importantly, he does have one over us all: he HAS driven the new STi, none of us have.
BTW as for the remarks about the intelligence of the typical Subaru owner, I should like to point out that: a) I only watch the Rally on TV; b) I don't own a single item of clothing featuring the Subaru logo and, most importantly; c) I didn't get my doctorate in the post!
![Big Grin](images/smilies/biggrin.gif)
Ns04
BTW as for the remarks about the intelligence of the typical Subaru owner, I should like to point out that: a) I only watch the Rally on TV; b) I don't own a single item of clothing featuring the Subaru logo and, most importantly; c) I didn't get my doctorate in the post!
![Wink](images/smilies/wink.gif)
![Big Grin](images/smilies/biggrin.gif)
Ns04
#51
#52
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Its juts an awful design from start to finish, it doesn`t have a clear identity like all past impreza`s have had as its stuck somewhere in between a fast shopping trolly and an ugly korean wheelie bin.
#54
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Clarkson has and always has been "Controversial" but thats why we all like about him and get him into "The" Papers ![Wink](images/smilies/wink.gif)
Like any Characture Painter he egagerates peoples Trates![Wink](images/smilies/wink.gif)
after 8 years of Scooby ownership we have meet all types![Big Grin](images/smilies/biggrin.gif)
Tony
Slightly pigged off that he always dirves a UK Scoob rather than the far better JDM ??? and gets a driver to force sit into understeer instead of driving it how it is![Wink](images/smilies/wink.gif)
IMHO
![Wink](images/smilies/wink.gif)
Like any Characture Painter he egagerates peoples Trates
![Wink](images/smilies/wink.gif)
after 8 years of Scooby ownership we have meet all types
![Big Grin](images/smilies/biggrin.gif)
Tony
Slightly pigged off that he always dirves a UK Scoob rather than the far better JDM ??? and gets a driver to force sit into understeer instead of driving it how it is
![Wink](images/smilies/wink.gif)
IMHO
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#56
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The trouble with British people is that they are too worried about what other people think and what "badge" or "brand" they are driving/wearing - too keen to seek approval from others.
At the end of the day Clarkson is an entertainer - he needs to write controversial stuff and come up with smart quotes. In fact I suspect he probably has 'ghost writers' who help him out with this stuff.
At heart he's a mouthy public school oaf who's led a privileged life (his mother made a lot of money out of 'Paddington Bear' and he went to Repton school). If he hadn't gone into journalism then I suspect he might have ended up as a Conservative MP of the old school.
At the end of the day Clarkson is an entertainer - he needs to write controversial stuff and come up with smart quotes. In fact I suspect he probably has 'ghost writers' who help him out with this stuff.
At heart he's a mouthy public school oaf who's led a privileged life (his mother made a lot of money out of 'Paddington Bear' and he went to Repton school). If he hadn't gone into journalism then I suspect he might have ended up as a Conservative MP of the old school.
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The trouble with British people is that they are too worried about what other people think and what "badge" or "brand" they are driving/wearing - too keen to seek approval from others.
At the end of the day Clarkson is an entertainer - he needs to write controversial stuff and come up with smart quotes. In fact I suspect he probably has 'ghost writers' who help him out with this stuff.
At heart he's a mouthy public school oaf who's led a privileged life (his mother made a lot of money out of 'Paddington Bear' and he went to Repton school). If he hadn't gone into journalism then I suspect he might have ended up as a Conservative MP of the old school.
At the end of the day Clarkson is an entertainer - he needs to write controversial stuff and come up with smart quotes. In fact I suspect he probably has 'ghost writers' who help him out with this stuff.
At heart he's a mouthy public school oaf who's led a privileged life (his mother made a lot of money out of 'Paddington Bear' and he went to Repton school). If he hadn't gone into journalism then I suspect he might have ended up as a Conservative MP of the old school.
![Big Grin](images/smilies/biggrin.gif)
#59
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I don't agree with a lot he says but he's pretty much spot on here. The new Sti should be a niche car and very much 'for fans'
Quite a funny article too, I'm need to get myself a Subaru jacket now to fit the stereotype - where do you actually buy them from.
As an aside I was in the local Subaru dealer last week and was reading the new Subaru magazine. In it there is actually a picture that makes the new Sti look really nice (other than the rear lights, which I don't like).
Quite a funny article too, I'm need to get myself a Subaru jacket now to fit the stereotype - where do you actually buy them from.
As an aside I was in the local Subaru dealer last week and was reading the new Subaru magazine. In it there is actually a picture that makes the new Sti look really nice (other than the rear lights, which I don't like).
#60
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Quote:
"and exactly what was the cayenne?
Worlds ugliest car that made porsche the worlds MOST successful car maker."
On what are basing this? Volume of sales? Profits?
Are Porsche the most successful car maker?
"and exactly what was the cayenne?
Worlds ugliest car that made porsche the worlds MOST successful car maker."
On what are basing this? Volume of sales? Profits?
![Cuckoo](images/smilies/cuckoo.gif)
Are Porsche the most successful car maker?
![Cuckoo](images/smilies/cuckoo.gif)