► The slow demise of our favourite classic cars
► When did you last see a Ford Mondeo?
► Or a Vauxhall Cavalier?
Hedgehogs are going extinct. I know this, not just by reading the news but through personal experience too. As a kid I remember coming across hedgehogs in the garden, including a friendly one that came and drank a bowl of milk at my feet and then bumbled off like a character from a Beatrix Potter book.
Older readers will remember the spiny roadkill that was splattered the length and breadth of Britain, and the old jokes – remember the jokes? ‘Why did the hedgehog cross the road? Because he wanted to see his flatmate!’ No, you’re right. Doesn’t seem funny now…
Thing is, hedgehogs have disappeared steadily but imperceptibly, like the story of the frog boiled in water. No, that’s not another sick joke. I mean, it’s happened so discreetly, so gradually, it’s only when someone asks, ‘When did you last see one?’ that your brain acknowledges the change.
I’m feeling the same way about a number of cars, that were recently so familiar you wouldn’t even notice them, but now there are none around to notice. I saw a Ford Mondeo Mk1 the other day – I thought, ‘Wow, when was the last time I saw one of those?’ The Mondeo was a great car when it went on sale in 1993, so pervasive it became a demographic stereotype. The 24-valve V6 version was poised and fast andsurprisingly entertaining.
You want to know how many are left? The brilliant website howmanyleft.co.uk reckons there are only seven examples of the V6 still on the road. SEVEN! Can you believe it? You’re as likely to see a Bugatti Royale driving down the street. And it’s not alone – lots of everyday cars are now going the way of the hedgehog: Vauxhall Cavaliers, the Rover Metro, pretty much any Renault of the ’90s.
And I’ve spoken before about my so-far fruitless search for an original, unmolested 1999-2004 Fiat Multipla, the ugly pre-facelift six-seater. Yes, the one that looks like the actual frog boiled in water. They’ve vanished.
Now, you could say that it’s normal for these humdrum cars to disappear, as their working lives come to an end and their values drop, but I think the rate of extinction has accelerated. Scrappage schemes and plug-in-vehicle grants have played their part, but I think expectations have changed dramatically too.
Back in the ’80s and early ’90s, there wasn’t a huge difference between a new car and what was then a 20-year-old Austin Maxi or Renault 16 – ‘fuel’ still meant petrol, engines were mechanical, exhausts coughed out throat-clutching fumes and the radio played Terry Wogan. There was no ABS, no airbags, no touchscreens and no nav.
Compare that to now. The tech revolution that’s taken place since the ’90s means cars from that era now seem positively ancient. Forget minor advances in carburettor technology – modern buyers aren’t interested if they can’t plug their phones in.
This hit home when I drove the new Revuelto the other day. Far from heading to extinction, the new Lamborghini proves that monstrously powerful V12s are impressively, shockingly alive.
This is a car that makes you feel like you’re being beaten up in a 1000bhp tumble dryer, the forces are so savage. It might be a hybrid, but it’s still ferocious and intimidating, as wide as an American pick-up and as low as a cheese toasty. Driving it makes your eyes widen, your hair stand up, your adrenaline pump. So why, for God’s sake why, have they fitted a letterbox-shaped touchscreen in front of the passenger?
The idea that your passenger would rather be looking down at a screen, scrolling through their Spotify playlist, rather than eyes-up, brain trained on the next bend that’s hurtling towards you like a red-hot meteor from outer space, is just baffling. ‘Why have you done that?’ I asked the marketing person, pointing at the dashboard. ‘Because these days our customers demand it,’ she replied with a smile.
See what I mean? Modern buyers in every sector, with every budget, want their cars to be an extension of their phones. Anything built before the year 2014 BC (Before CarPlay) is as dead as a dodo. Or as dead as a hedgehog, as they’ll no doubt be saying in 2030.