CLARKSON NOT IMPRESSED WITH TX2
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CLARKSON NOT IMPRESSED WITH TX2
LTI TXII Black Cab http://driving.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/driving/jeremy_clarkson/greatest_hits/article3289928.ece
Here's why cabbies are bolshie
"If I were to make a list of the most uncomfortable and bolshie cars I’ve ever tried, the cab would slot neatly into second place behind the notoriously small and difficult Lamborghini Countach. If I were a cab driver I promise you this: I’d go to work on the Tube."
Wit and wisdom
Clarkson on everything from political correctness to being a real man
Verdict Passengers will be fine, just worry about the poor drivers
And now it’s time to get motoring with the news that there are equally large changes in the offing for London’s taxi drivers. Apparently there are moves afoot to let licensed cabbies tout for business in converted people carriers and vans rather than the carefully governed, disabled-friendly traditional black cab. Needless to say the people who make the traditional taxi are not best pleased. They’ve sent me a huge document explaining why it’s vital that a taxi has a turning circle of 25ft.
And they may have a point. If cabbies had to do a three-point turn every time they needed to go the other way, all the good work done by Uncle Ken’s congestion charge would be undone in an instant.
Unfortunately, the makers of the taxi don’t stop there. They go on to say that a £22,000 Renault Espace is somehow more expensive than a £27,550 LTI TXII cab and that the sliding doors on many people carriers are liable to open of their own accord, hurling rear-seat occupants into the path of an oncoming 18-wheel truck.
The message is simple. If cabbies are allowed to start using whatever takes their fancy, millions will be mangled in a juggernaut dance of death, whereas in the past 15 years - and this is true - only five people have died in the back of a black cab, four of boredom and one because he set himself on fire.
Then there’s the question of tradition. It’s pointed out that losing the black cab from the streets of London would be like replacing the bobby on the beat with half a dozen thugs in a Sherpa van and the truncheon with a Heckler & Koch sub-machinegun. It’d never happen. Even though it has.
For me the most important part of a taxi’s appeal is the man behind the wheel. Unlike anywhere else in the world he didn’t arrive in the driver’s seat that morning having spent the night crossing eastern Europe in the back of a truck. He also knows where he’s going and, as a little icing on the cake, he has been vetted to make sure he’s not a criminal.
Oh I know cabbies are the butt of everyone’s jokes and I know some of them do go on a bit about foreigners and Tony Blair and how they could have had a million pounds but chose instead to be a taxi driver. And I know they won’t take you south of the river after 10 and that they’re permanently tuned to Radio Nazi, but would you really want to swap them for a surly Swiss or a foul-mouthed New Yorker or one of those maniacs they use in Milan? Really?
Frankly, you could put a London cabbie in a three-wheeler and it’d still be a welcome sight on a cold, foggy, wet night in November. It’s the man that counts. Not his wheels. And my respect for what they do was eased up a notch when I spent a couple of days driving a new Ford-powered TXII.
Holy mother of Mary and sweet Jesus. If you thought cabs were uncomfortable in the back you should try the front.
The car I was lent had soft blue leather seating with yellow piping, full Wilton carpets and a wood-look dashboard. It was just like a taxi driver’s lounge in fact, except that the ashtray was plastic rather than onyx. But there was one thing missing. Space.
A taxi driver will spend upwards of 2,500 hours a year in his cab, and I’m sorry but if you had to work in such cramped conditions you’d think very carefully about murdering your boss.
I had to perform the most ungainly manoeuvre to get my left leg between the seat and the steering wheel and then there was nowhere to put it, no space at all between the brake pedal and the centre console. I now know what it feels like to be a piece of hermetically sealed cheese.
Then there are the noises. The central locking clanks into place every time you take your foot off the brake, which in London is every six seconds, and if you’ve ever wondered why taxis don’t indicate I now have the answer. Inside, when you turn the indicators on, the car beeps, a soaring descant to the angry bass growl of the engine. It’s a modern 2.4 litre Duratorq unit and yet if the very first example of internal combustion had sounded like this Karl Benz would have given up.
I’ve tried hard to think of a way to sum up the driving experience, and this is the best I can come up with. Imagine being tied in a sack and pushed into the most vicious boulder-strewn rapids on the Colorado River while listening to rap music at full volume through a set of headphones that were wired into the mains.
It’s incredible that cabbies can do this and still remember where Roland Gardens is and how best it can be approached from the arse end of Hackney.
And we haven’t got to the steering yet. I had always assumed that taxis weaved when on the motorway because this increases the distance travelled and therefore the fare. But no, they weave because every time you try to get some blood into your leg and prevent the onset of gangrene, the steering wheel moves a bit and, wehay, suddenly you’re on your way to Gatwick rather than Heathrow.
If I were to make a list of the most uncomfortable and bolshie cars I’ve ever tried, the cab would slot neatly into second place behind the notoriously small and difficult Lamborghini Countach. If I were a cab driver I promise you this: I’d go to work on the Tube.
The idea of using people carriers and vans later came to nothing as the Public Carriage Office decided to retain strict conditions on vehicle suitability, which only the black cab met
Price when tested (April 2003) £27,550
Model discontinued
Engine 2402cc, four cylinders
Power 90bhp @ 4000rpm
Torque 148 lb ft @ 1700rpm
Transmission Four-speed automatic
Fuel/CO2 36.2mpg (combined) / 243g/km
Top speed 83mph
0-60mph: n/a
Here's why cabbies are bolshie
"If I were to make a list of the most uncomfortable and bolshie cars I’ve ever tried, the cab would slot neatly into second place behind the notoriously small and difficult Lamborghini Countach. If I were a cab driver I promise you this: I’d go to work on the Tube."
Wit and wisdom
Clarkson on everything from political correctness to being a real man
Verdict Passengers will be fine, just worry about the poor drivers
And now it’s time to get motoring with the news that there are equally large changes in the offing for London’s taxi drivers. Apparently there are moves afoot to let licensed cabbies tout for business in converted people carriers and vans rather than the carefully governed, disabled-friendly traditional black cab. Needless to say the people who make the traditional taxi are not best pleased. They’ve sent me a huge document explaining why it’s vital that a taxi has a turning circle of 25ft.
And they may have a point. If cabbies had to do a three-point turn every time they needed to go the other way, all the good work done by Uncle Ken’s congestion charge would be undone in an instant.
Unfortunately, the makers of the taxi don’t stop there. They go on to say that a £22,000 Renault Espace is somehow more expensive than a £27,550 LTI TXII cab and that the sliding doors on many people carriers are liable to open of their own accord, hurling rear-seat occupants into the path of an oncoming 18-wheel truck.
The message is simple. If cabbies are allowed to start using whatever takes their fancy, millions will be mangled in a juggernaut dance of death, whereas in the past 15 years - and this is true - only five people have died in the back of a black cab, four of boredom and one because he set himself on fire.
Then there’s the question of tradition. It’s pointed out that losing the black cab from the streets of London would be like replacing the bobby on the beat with half a dozen thugs in a Sherpa van and the truncheon with a Heckler & Koch sub-machinegun. It’d never happen. Even though it has.
For me the most important part of a taxi’s appeal is the man behind the wheel. Unlike anywhere else in the world he didn’t arrive in the driver’s seat that morning having spent the night crossing eastern Europe in the back of a truck. He also knows where he’s going and, as a little icing on the cake, he has been vetted to make sure he’s not a criminal.
Oh I know cabbies are the butt of everyone’s jokes and I know some of them do go on a bit about foreigners and Tony Blair and how they could have had a million pounds but chose instead to be a taxi driver. And I know they won’t take you south of the river after 10 and that they’re permanently tuned to Radio Nazi, but would you really want to swap them for a surly Swiss or a foul-mouthed New Yorker or one of those maniacs they use in Milan? Really?
Frankly, you could put a London cabbie in a three-wheeler and it’d still be a welcome sight on a cold, foggy, wet night in November. It’s the man that counts. Not his wheels. And my respect for what they do was eased up a notch when I spent a couple of days driving a new Ford-powered TXII.
Holy mother of Mary and sweet Jesus. If you thought cabs were uncomfortable in the back you should try the front.
The car I was lent had soft blue leather seating with yellow piping, full Wilton carpets and a wood-look dashboard. It was just like a taxi driver’s lounge in fact, except that the ashtray was plastic rather than onyx. But there was one thing missing. Space.
A taxi driver will spend upwards of 2,500 hours a year in his cab, and I’m sorry but if you had to work in such cramped conditions you’d think very carefully about murdering your boss.
I had to perform the most ungainly manoeuvre to get my left leg between the seat and the steering wheel and then there was nowhere to put it, no space at all between the brake pedal and the centre console. I now know what it feels like to be a piece of hermetically sealed cheese.
Then there are the noises. The central locking clanks into place every time you take your foot off the brake, which in London is every six seconds, and if you’ve ever wondered why taxis don’t indicate I now have the answer. Inside, when you turn the indicators on, the car beeps, a soaring descant to the angry bass growl of the engine. It’s a modern 2.4 litre Duratorq unit and yet if the very first example of internal combustion had sounded like this Karl Benz would have given up.
I’ve tried hard to think of a way to sum up the driving experience, and this is the best I can come up with. Imagine being tied in a sack and pushed into the most vicious boulder-strewn rapids on the Colorado River while listening to rap music at full volume through a set of headphones that were wired into the mains.
It’s incredible that cabbies can do this and still remember where Roland Gardens is and how best it can be approached from the arse end of Hackney.
And we haven’t got to the steering yet. I had always assumed that taxis weaved when on the motorway because this increases the distance travelled and therefore the fare. But no, they weave because every time you try to get some blood into your leg and prevent the onset of gangrene, the steering wheel moves a bit and, wehay, suddenly you’re on your way to Gatwick rather than Heathrow.
If I were to make a list of the most uncomfortable and bolshie cars I’ve ever tried, the cab would slot neatly into second place behind the notoriously small and difficult Lamborghini Countach. If I were a cab driver I promise you this: I’d go to work on the Tube.
The idea of using people carriers and vans later came to nothing as the Public Carriage Office decided to retain strict conditions on vehicle suitability, which only the black cab met
Price when tested (April 2003) £27,550
Model discontinued
Engine 2402cc, four cylinders
Power 90bhp @ 4000rpm
Torque 148 lb ft @ 1700rpm
Transmission Four-speed automatic
Fuel/CO2 36.2mpg (combined) / 243g/km
Top speed 83mph
0-60mph: n/a
ahmed- Number of posts : 224
Registration date : 2007-03-09
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