I have often wondered why people drove such rubbish cars in the late 80s and early 90s. The obvious answer is that all cars of that era were rubbish. It surely can't be true. One of these days Mssrs Clarkson, May and Hammond will do a Top Gear episode in which they find some classics from that era, as opposed to comedically decrepit Alfas or (recently) 1970s British and Soviet-Bloc junkheaps. Thinking back to the teachers' car park at my secondary school - which may not be the best benchmark for motoring taste but was the closest I came to a representative sample - I remember a black Lancia and an MG Midget. The latter purported to be a sports car but had the gearbox from a Morris Marina. Whatever the other teachers drove, made no impression on me.
A neighbour of ours had three Austin Maxis and I can remember pushing a friend's Allegro up their drive. My mum was driven to comment on the non-existent ride quality after a lift in a 2CV - the only time I've ever heard her voice an opinion on a car. In the early 80s my dad did up a Triumph 2000 (with overdrive - it was the future) and when he topped 100mph on the M6 it was the equivalent for us boys of a journey into space. I also remember a borrowed Peugeot 604 so huge and thirsty it needed a police escort in front and a petrol tanker close behind; and a Rover SD1 which looked great and had comfortable seats but exhibited typical British build quality for the time (i.e. none). He eventually progressed up the ladder of mediocrity to a couple of Vauxhall Carltons, which had central locking that actually worked most of the time.
Among all the cars listed above I don't think there's a single one whose departure from the roads was mourned. Worst of all, a university friend of mine owned a Lada Riva. Its "solid" construction was a useful asset given his erratic driving skills and that's the only good thing I could ever say about it. I once attempted a three-point turn and discovered it had no recognisable gears. His was last heard of parked in a field, which is its proper home - preferably squarely in the gunsight of a nearby tank. You may recall one was sliced in half by Bond's laser wheels in "The Living Daylights" and even if he'd cut it into a thousand pieces it would still have been too few.
But today I believe I found a clue as to why slow-moving rust buckets such as these were so popular. I decided to enliven yet another tedious journey to life-sapping Ikea with some classic rock and it so happened that Sarah had crammed The Joshua Tree into the glove box. I hadn't listened to its entirety for years although I have the big hits on my iPod. Part-way home, into the unfamiliar later tracks, I started to hear weird noises. Just for a moment I thought the car was breaking down. Then I realised it was U2 doing experimental things with their instruments. Therein lies the explanation.
From about 1988 onwards everyone was listening to this album in their cars and couldn't tell that the bearings were shot, the fan belt about to break and the wheelarches audibly rusting away, because "Bullet the Blue Sky" and "Exit" hid the noise. Indeed they thought Bono and his cronies were geniuses to produce such an exciting range of sounds. The tingle up the spine wasn't because the music was great, but attributable to the draughtiness of cars at anything over 20mph. And when the vehicle burst into flames or expired in a cloud of acrid smoke, the idea for U2's stadium shows was born.
I am delighted to have been of assistance in solving such a long-standing mystery. I shall revel in the warm glow of success as I attempt to erase from memory my experiences as a passenger in a first-generation Fiat Panda.
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