MONDAY - Began a sunny week with a two-mile trip to Suzuki Heathrow to collect our new Suzuki long-termer, a beguiling 1.0-litre three-pot five-door baby called Celerio (née Alto). It’s shorter and lighter than a Mini or a Fiat 500 yet more spacious than either.
I’ve latterly been elected to take delivery of various members of our changing fleet (one recent arrival, you may remember, was the Ferrari FF) and, as it happens, the Suz and Fandango match one another very well. For me, the Celerio is exactly the kind of runabout that validates ownership of a car as mighty on open roads as the FF.
An errand near Birmingham took the Suzuki briskly to its first fuel fill at 380 miles, where I discovered I could squeeze only 26 litres of unleaded into the tank. This corresponds to about 66mpg – while the car is still being run in.
Next day the bloke from Suzuki said that early cars like ours are soon to get a five-minute trip computer update, because the existing readout caps average fuel mileage at 60mpg, which isn’t nearly enough. What wonderful news for the fuel consumption fetishist (me).
TUESDAY - Can never go within a 20-mile radius of Bromsgrove, where my friend Paul Matty operates a Lotus dealership, without calling in for the cup of tea always on offer. I first went there to gather material for a story just over 28 years ago – and finished up buying a pre-litigation Westfield Seven.
Over my next hundred visits, PM and I have established a routine: we always tour the stock and the curiosities of the workshop (this week’s curiosity: an Elan, for restoration, that had been standing for so long that its carburettors had been dissolved by the pee of car-loving rats nesting above them).
Saw two other great sights. First was the famous Esprit-based active suspension prototype, famously known as SID, which Matty bought last Christmas in order to give it a good home. Second was a very tidy late Elise S1 priced at £10k, quite similar to another I owned and enjoyed a decade ago.
WEDNESDAY - Awoke from slumber knowing I had to own that Elise. Paul had known it, too, but he never intrudes in customers’ decisions. We agreed the matter in a couple of minutes, whereupon I announced it more widely.
The Steering Committee (who might have been expected to jib a bit by those who don’t know her) was simply happy for me. Friends – and I include you in this – who have endured unending what-will-I-buy commentary were relieved. Me? I just felt (and feel) great. Two weeks and one cambelt and I’ll be driving my own Elise again.