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  •   Susanne Roeder reacted to this post about 5 months ago
    Water wings ASTON MARTIN DESIGN TEAM HELPS CREATE AM37 ‘SPORTS SUPER YACHT’

    AM37 SPORTS BOAT / WORDS Jethro Bovingdon / IMAGES ASTON MARTIN / #Aston-Martin-AM37 / #Aston-Martin / #2016

    It doesn’t get much cooler than pointing the long, elegant bonnet of your Aston Martin south and not stopping until you get to Monaco on a warm summer’s evening. Maybe you’ll stay at the Hotel de Paris, spend an evening on the tables at the Casino de Monte-Carlo. The next day? A short amble down to the Hercules Port and then a day on the yacht, I guess. And it would be only natural and fitting for the yacht to be as effortlessly stylish as your Vanquish or One-77. Which is where the AM37 comes in, a collaboration between Quintessence Yachts and Aston Martin.

    And just about the most ridiculously desirable object on planet Earth. Aston Martin’s design department is obviously incredibly highly regarded even beyond the usual automotive boundaries. So much so that it has a three-person team under the banner ‘The Art of Living’ that’s dedicated to projects away from car design. They’ve produced fabric collections with renowned couture fabric and lace maker Emilia Burano, exquisite furniture with Formitalia and now the jaw-dropping AM37 with Quintessence.

    Marek Reichman, chief creative officer and design director, explains what made them take on such an ambitious project and what makes this 11.28-metre (37ft, hence the name) sports superyacht unique. You have to imagine him smiling broadly as you read, because he really is fired-up about the AM37. ‘Quintessence were coming with a blank sheet,’ he begins. ‘They were saying: “This is going to be your design, with some practical input from our naval architect.”

    ‘We clay-modelled it here, we did the surfacing here, every piece of data to create the boat came from here. So that was part of the attraction – they were not coming with a perceived view of what AM37 should be.’

    Even so, Reichman’s vision wasn’t easy to execute and there were plenty of heated debates with the naval architects, the Dutch firm Mulder Design. ‘It was harmonious after we’d had our struggles!’ he laughs. ‘What I learnt is that different disciplines apply the same techniques but at different times. It was like when I first got here. You have to prove your knowledge. Now the relationship is good – we’ve both learnt a huge amount and they’re saying: “We’re glad we didn’t force you away from those ideas.”’

    So it’s a luxurious, sporting yacht available with two 370bhp Mercury diesel engines or twin 430bhp #Mercury petrol engines, or in S form with twin 520bhp petrol engines and a top speed of 52 knots (60mph). It has a composite hull and carbonfibre structural strengthening, beautiful teak decking and accommodation consisting of a small galley kitchen, sofa/double bed, dining table and toilet (because even the superglamorous produce waste). Each AM37 will be built in Southampton and, while pricing hasn’t been confirmed, we’d bet on not getting much change from £1 million. But what makes it Aston Martin?

    ‘It’s always based around beauty. It has to be,’ explains Reichman. ‘In itself that creates longevity. The hull is very sharp – you look at the front view and many powerboats have a bluff front these days, whereas AM37 is quite traditional. I wanted this look so that when seen in profile AM37 has a very defined point at the front. Stemming from that is the teak cabin, the greenhouse flowing up from it with that unique concave glass. The metal strips that run from the tip of the yacht and sweep up the glass create a very cab-rearward look, so even when it’s static it looks like it’s powering away.’

    Beyond the simple beauty there’s innovation driven by the aesthetic, too. An electrically operated three-piece deck made from carbonfibre completely covers the cabin when the boat is moored and then retracts below the aft deck, where it joins the carbonfibre Bimini cover that can be raised to provide shade from the sun. Marek loves this feature. ‘When you’re moored you get this beautiful deck – and that came from the inspiration of seeing stunning Thames River cruisers: beautiful wooden cruisers that are so simple.’

    Of course an Aston Martin can’t just look right and Marek and Quintessence were at pains to ensure the AM37 was suitably effortless. ‘We wanted AM37 to feel like it’s planing, smooth and controlled,’ he recalls. ‘So you can only hear the sound of the water, not the boat interrupting it, fighting the surface. An incredibly serene ride, easy and comfortable to go fast in and therefore confidence-inspiring. It’s not an out and out speedboat, it’s a pleasure powerboat that has all the power that you need when you need it. Just like a DB11, absolutely. When you see AM37 moored beside one of our cars I’m certain you’ll see the shared philosophy, the shared authenticity. They’ll impart the same feelings and sensations.’

    ‘It has all the power that you need, when you need it. Just like a DB11, absolutely’

    Left, from the top Aston design themes continue into the cockpit; top speed will be 52 knots; carbonfibre deck slides forward to cover the cockpit when moored.
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  •   Susanne Roeder reacted to this post about 5 months ago
    Jethro Bovingdon created a new group

    Vauxhall VXR8

    Vauxhall-VXR8 / GTS
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  •   Shelby Glenn reacted to this post about 9 months ago
    END OF TERM #Vauxhall-VXR8-GTS / #2017 / #Vauxhall-VXR8 / #HSV-GTS-Gen-F / #Holden-HSV-GTS-Gen-F / #HSV-GTS / #GM

    This car is the last of its kind, but what a way to bow out

    When I look back on my time with the VXR8, it’s nearly always with a smile. Okay, so when an overdraft warning pinged through on my phone I might have rued the 18.1mpg, but even when the children were eating gruel and my wife was darning socks, I reckon it was probably worth it. The VXR8 GTS isn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s unique, big-hearted and almost impossible not to love (unless you’re Dickie Meaden, who hates it).

    I wanted to run this huge Vauxhall because it represents the end of an era for the incredible line of V8- powered, rear-drive saloons built in Australia. Ford no longer builds the Falcon and now the Holden Commodore – on which this car is based – is dying, too. The whole Holden versus Ford rivalry is like a way of life for car enthusiasts in Australia, so it must feel especially painful for hardcore fans of the V8 Supercars race series, who’ve grown up as ‘Ford guys’ or ‘Holden guys’. I don’t have that history but even so it’s sad to see this loud, lairy breed disappear from the motoring landscape. Other reasons? The practicality, of course. And the 6.2-litre supercharged V8 with 576bhp and 545lb ft.

    While the £56,234 VXR8 GTS is a dinosaur scavenging for fuel under the dark cloud of a meteor strike, it’s not at all crude and certainly doesn’t require great sacrifice to live with. In fact, it’s unbelievably comfortable, riding on sophisticated magnetorheological dampers, and it features torque vectoring by braking, multiple driving modes for various situations and has all the toys you could imagine. It’ll even park itself. Fitted with the optional six-speed automatic gearbox it covers ground like nothing else, loping along at big speeds with the engine turning slowly and the soft but supportive seats vanishing away the miles. Three-up back from the Nürburgring with a boot full of camera gear, it was almost serene.

    Journeys like that were a pretty regular part of life for our GTS – back and forth to the Ring a couple of times, supporting shoots at Spa, trawling across to Wales seemingly every month – and it really did excel in those situations. More usually it was trips to the airport, the odd school run and blasts into the office. evo moved in the summer, and the new commute was fantastic from my place. About 25 minutes of deserted and wide country roads with some wicked cresting corners and even a banked, Karussell-style left through a tunnel of trees. At full tilt the sheer performance the VXR8 GTS deployed for this journey was actually pretty stunning. It was easy to forget the #V8 ’s extreme power output when driving even quite quickly, as the slightly monotone engine note could lead you to change up at little more than 4000rpm. But if you held out to the limiter you got a manic supercharger noise to enjoy and truly eye-popping acceleration.

    It was only when you tried to use that 576bhp that you appreciated the full magic of the chassis, too. The car always felt surprisingly balanced and composed – although short, sharp bumps could get it fidgeting and feeling slightly out of phase with the surface – but it was with the stability control off that you could enjoy its full repertoire. Despite expectations, it was not a monster drift machine. There was too much grip and traction to slide around at low speed. However, it always felt very rear-driven and when you committed early to the throttle you could feel the rear tyres take the strain, the balance just teetering on the edge of oversteer. In the dry it was a sensational feeling and the car never felt unruly. In the wet, it was better to leave the traction control very much on, though. After many thousands of miles I felt I was still learning the VXR8.

    I tended to skip Tour and Sport modes and head straight to Performance, enabling the torque vectoring. On smoother roads you could even use Track mode pretty comfortably to really tie down any float over undulations. I always used the paddles: I just can’t cope with fully automatic driving unless I’m stuck in traffic, and the gearbox was pretty fast and rarely frustrated me by not actioning a downshift request. In fact, the whole car felt nicely intuitive and in tune with your inputs.

    The VXR8 GTS was a great car for all occasions, then: vast and comfortable, wickedly fast and slightly irresponsible, and even surprisingly composed and enjoyable on track, with terrific brake and steering feel on the limit. The interior was relatively crummy, and some people couldn’t cope with the image, but I was sorry to see it go. Both from my driveway and the wider world. Life is all the brighter and more enjoyable with a VXR8 GTS for company. This or a new M3? No contest.

    Above: alongside its many ancestors at Vauxhall’s Heritage Centre in Luton. Right: the big Vaux was a true delight on the limit, dancing on the line between grip and slip with the poise of a far lighter car.

    ‘At full tilt the sheer performance the VXR8 GTS deployed was actually pretty stunning’

    Date acquired June #2016
    Duration of test 6 months
    Total test mileage 8922
    Overall mpg 18.1
    Costs £0
    Purchase price £56,234
    Value today £50,00
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  •   Antony Ingram reacted to this post about 2 years ago
    Jethro Bovingdon updated the cover photo for Vauxhall VXR8
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  • Jethro Bovingdon updated the picture of the group Vauxhall VXR8
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  •   David Lillywhite reacted to this post about 4 years ago
    Now fleeter of hoof / Ferrari’s Handling Speciale package sharpens California T / #2016 / #Ferrari-California-T / #Ferrari-California / #Ferrari

    Words Jethro Bovingdon / Photography Aston Parrot

    The California T (the first turbocharged Ferrari road car since the F40) makes up 30% of all Ferrari sales. Crucially, 50% of California customers are new to the Prancing Horse badge. Many go on to buy a more extreme mid-engined car such as the 488GTB, or take a giant stride up to Ferrari’s V12-engined GT cars. In other words, the accountants love it.

    Its 553bhp 3.9-litre twin-turbo V8 makes it seriously fast yet, to those of us who equate the name with pin-sharp drivers’ cars and magnificent GTs, the California T can feel like a facsimile of the real thing rather than an authentic part of the family.

    The new Handling Speciale package looks to address that. It’s a £5568 option on top of the £155,230 list price and creates, we’re told, a much more exciting yet wholly civilised GT. Spring rates are up 16% at the front, 19% at the rear, the magnetorheological dampers are retuned, there’s a louder, sharper exhaust note, faster shifts for the seven-speed dual-clutch ’box, and the stability and traction control systems have been recalibrated.

    Firmer it might be but the ride remains more than acceptable when mooching. The exhaust note is well-judged, too: naughty enough but not embarrassingly loud, although there’s a shade more boom to it than in the standard car. The drivetrain has real quality though, with incredible throttle response for a turbocharged car.

    Up in the hills – real Ferrari country – the engine and ’box impress further. Upshifts are 30% faster and feel so much more precise, while downshifts are improved by a scarcely believable 40%. They feel pretty much instantaneous.

    Ferrari limits the V8’s massive torque, slowly revealing its true might as you click through the ratios and finally arrive at the full 557lb ft in seventh gear. It seems an odd deceit but actually it’s a stroke of genius, ensuring superb traction and a soaring normally aspirated style of delivery. For all that, the California T HS remains very much a GT rather than a blue-blooded sports car.

    Despite eye-popping performance, excellent brakes and a crackling soundtrack, the chassis is relatively soft. The balance is great but body control is less convincing and, in comparison to cars such as the cheaper Porsche 911 Turbo S Cabriolet or Audi R8 (the Spider is coming), the HS just isn’t as locked down, as focused or as exciting. That wouldn’t be a problem if the HS had the elegance and majesty of a 250GT SWB California Spider, but it’s way short of that.

    So it remains a car for Ferrari’s accountants to enjoy and for those who wouldn’t know a California Spider if it ran them over but quite fancy a Mercedes SL-type car with a Ferrari badge. More committed drivers should keep saving for an F12 or slum it in an R8 Spider or 911 Turbo S Cabriolet instead.
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  •   Andy Everett reacted to this post about 4 years ago
    CITROËN DS FROM GREECE

    1500-mile journey to UK in a car bought sight-unseen

    THE GREEK GODDESS

    Jethro Bovingdon wanted a Citroën DS and the best he could afford was in Athens, a long way from home. Is that a problem – or an opportunity? Photography The Bovingdon family / #Citroen-D-Super / #Citroen-DS / #Citroen /

    It feels real the moment the front wheels touch the ramp for the tatty-looking Grimaldi Lines Olympia ferry that will take me, my new car and 100 lorry drivers from Patras on mainland Greece to Brindisi on the heel of Italy. The panic crashes in a wave through my stomach, into my ribcage and through my arms until they feel almost rigid. Rolling to a jerky stop (those brakes!) I’m in automatic pilot, stirring the still-alien manual column-shift into first, stomping on the parking brake to make sure it’s secure, gathering my bags for the 15-hour journey ahead, locking the doors – well, three of them as the passenger door lock barrel slides whole with the key – and then trying to work out how I get up on deck. My mind is scrambled. As I fumble to lock the boot, a black Austrian-registered Mercedes SL rumbles behind me. The driver hops out, maybe six-four, well-groomed and looking ready for a week on a yacht rather than a night on a creaky ferry. His girlfriend is impossibly glamorous. ‘Wow, nice car,’ he says in unmistakable clipped tones. ‘I have one of these back in South Africa.’


    He begins to poke around for corrosion with a well trained eye. ‘Looks like you’ve got a good one,’ he says. I tell him I’m driving it back to the UK over the next few days. He raises his eyebrows, there’s an awkward silence, then a simple ‘Good luck’ and they’re gone. I’m left alone with the DS as it slowly sighs down on its suspension. God, it looks cool. God, I hope it gets me home. So how did I come to find myself dazed and mildly panicked on a ferry leaving Greece and bound for southern Italy in a #1972 D Super in a lovely shade of Brun Scarabee? I can barely remember myself but it went a little like this…

    My much-loved, highly unoriginal Porsche 996 Carrera was paid off, recently resprayed and ready for many more miles of enjoyment. Consequently I had that itch. The one that sees you scouring the internet for something, anything, of interest. I intended to buy a Nissan Skyline R32 GT-R, maybe a Mitsubishi Evo VI Tommi Mäkinen: something with that unique combination of focus, technology and unbridled craziness that only the Japanese can conjure. Then a detailer and friend Richard Tipper of Perfection Valet posted a picture on Twitter of the car he was working on that day. Agreen Décapotable, looking mouth-wateringly beautiful in this, the DS’s 60th-anniversary year.

    Memories of my dad’s old DS resurfaced, I fired up the laptop and there was an ad for a Pallas, basking in Greek sunshine and available for a suspiciously tempting price. The advert was mysterious. Typed in CAPITALS, telling a story of a one-owner car in Athens but with the advert location said to be ‘Camberley, UK’. I closed the laptop. Then opened it again. I reasoned it was probably a scam but, then again, that’s what everyone else would think, right? Why not drop the guy an email? So I did. He replied (in CAPITALS) almost immediately. He sounded genuine. Soon I discovered he was a reader of Evo magazine, to which I regularly contribute, and Octane too, of course. He had a large collection of cars, he said.


    I’ll book a flight, I said. He assured me he wasn’t an axe murderer (the wife made me ask) and, sure enough, when I went to look at the car Andreas was a lovely chap, passionate about cars, and the DS had been his father’s since 1974 when he bought it as an ex-demo from the importer in Athens. He took me for a long drive, we had an unbelievable lunch overlooking the shimmering Saronic Gulf, he bought me Ouzo, the deal was done.

    The next two or three weeks were testing. I knew little about the DS except that it’s a car I love, yet slowly I realised this one wasn’t a Pallas (it will be painfully obvious to many of you) but had been dressed up to look a bit like one. The excellent Citroën Conservatoire helped trace its history: a 2.0-litre D Super built in 1972 with a four-speed manual gearbox. As was often the way in Greece, the dealership had brought in a basic car for tax reasons then added Pallas C-pillar trim and the chrome strip (since removed), and had the interior trimmed in soft olive-green leather. It left the factory painted Vert Charmille but, before Andreas’s father bought it, the importer had changed it to the gorgeous Brun Scarabee.


    Why? Who knows. Did uncovering its true identity put me off? A little, but I couldn’t afford a mint Pallas so it was almost irrelevant. Plus my family had completely bought into the idea of flying out to help me bring it home. A couple of hours after arriving in Italy I’d pick up my two brothers and my dad at Brindisi airport (10.30, Saturday morning), aim for Maranello that night, then head into Switzerland and over the St Gotthard Pass on Sunday, hoping to make it into France. On Monday it’d be an easy stroll to the Chunnel and then home to Northamptonshire.

    Rolling onto Italian soil feels pretty damn intrepid. There are 1500 miles to go but the sun is shining and the customs staff are friendly. The guy checks my passport with a smile and shouts to a colleague who bounds over when he sees the car. His English isn’t great but I get the gist. Pointing, he says: ‘I have… I have this. Bianco. Mine is bianco.’ Another DS owner. It adds a further twist of the surreal to this already remarkable adventure. I explain I’m driving it home as best I can. He sticks his thumb in his mouth for a moment then says: ‘Bambino. Treat it as bambino.’ Then I sink back into those incredibly soft, beautifully aged leather chairs and head for the airport, wending through tiny sun-bleached streets, feeling elated and (almost literally) floating on air. Things aren’t so rosy once Nathan, Toby and my dad, Roger, arrive. The previously flawless D rises swiftly but, with four blokes, their luggage and the LHM a little below maximum, it won’t go high enough to extinguish the massive red STOP sign in the oval warning cluster on the dash. It’s a niggle but annoying when you’re showing your new bambino to the family.

    It’s well over 30 degrees outside and Toby has had some comedy ‘DS Adventure’ T-shirts made for us. They’re 100% polyester. So all four windows are down and it’s blowing a gale as we settle into a cruise at an indicated 110km/h. Within two minutes the interior C-pillar trims come loose on either side and dad reaches for one before it flies out into the slipstream, letting go of the map, which then swirls around the interior and is sucked towards the window opening… Thankfully he makes a crucial save at the last moment. The car and my hopes are rapidly disintegrating.

    At the first fuel stop, Nath – a mechanic and the man charged with running repairs – finds a small fuel leak. ‘Is it bad?’ I ask, tentatively. ‘No fuel leak is a good fuel leak,’ he replies. My heart sinks still further but at least the ice cream is good and I dig out the email confirmation of my new ADAC European recovery membership. Yet a few minutes later we’re back on the road, having discovered it’s just an overflow and the leak stops as soon as the gruff but torquey fourcylinder is running. The miles come and go gently and our speed creeps up to 120km/h, with the odd foray to 130 when I’m feeling brave. Slowly but surely the furrowed brows and worries are washed away and we start to enjoy the majesty of a DS cruising along the Adriatic coast. Dinner in Rimini? Why the hell not.

    It’s midnight when we roll into Ferrari town and check in at The Planet hotel, right opposite those famous gates. My dad bravely volunteers to share with Nathan, whose snoring measures on the Richter scale, and I share with Toby. Our room is huge and its two kingsize beds are almost as comfy as a DS armchair. In the morning dad pops in to borrow some toothpaste, looking exhausted. Turns out he and Nath had two singles with about six inches between them. I’ll never forget his slumped shoulders as he walked out clutching Colgate to hoots of laughter from myself and Toby. Of such things are roadtrips made.


    Still, the horror of a night in a twin room with his eldest son is forgotten as we trundle around Maranello, peep through the gates at the Fiorano test track and soak up the place. I’ve been many times before but for my family it’s a real treat and reminds me that, behind all the tat, Ferrari still possesses real magic.


    Today is The Big One. We’ll cover a similar mileage to yesterday – around 500 – but I’m really keen to take in the spectacular St Gotthard Pass, which means we need to negotiate customs at the Swiss border with our barely legal Greek FIVA-registered car (intended to allow short journeys to shows and the like), conquer the Alps, then skirt around Lausanne and Geneva and get into France. The route could hardly be more evocative: Maranello, Piacenza, Milan, Lake Como, St Gotthard, Geneva and then, hopefully, somewhere up near Dijon for a late dinner. Confidence is high, although when Nath shows me the ‘toolkit’ it dips: tie-wraps, screwdriver, toilet roll, not much else.


    All is sunny in Maranello but as we head north the skies turn grey and it begins spitting with rain well before we hit Milan. I wonder when my DS (still sounds strange) last saw precipitation and, when I switch on the wipers, the perished rubber blades confirm it’s been a while. On the second arc the left one comes loose at the bottom and flaps around hopelessly. Luckily we have those tie-wraps. And the drooping door-mirror needs a little tighten-up, too.

    We’re 700 miles into our journey and all agree that a bodged wiper blade and fixing a loose mirror are acceptable issues in a 43-year-old Citroën. There’s a big test to come, though. We sweep serenely into Switzerland (no customs trouble) but, 20 miles short of St Gotthard, traffic is at a standstill. It’s cold, grey and the rain is that hazy sort that soaks you in seconds. We get out for a chat with the French, Swiss and Germans stuck alongside us.


    So, do we switch the car off and risk having to restart over and over again, or leave it running and risk it overheating? As the traffic finally starts to creep we have little choice but to watch that temperature needle and pray… Two hours later we’re free of the queues and heading up and up and up on the magnificent St Gotthard Pass. We should never have doubted it. What a car! Sweeping over great curves suspended on giant concrete stilts, plunging into thick fog and watching the snow build from a light dusting at the road’s edge to great shelves of white ice twice the height of the DS… we’re all alone on St Gotthard and it’s breathtaking, slightly surreal and, for my brother Toby, terrifying. I think he’d have preferred the straight, flat tunnel option but the Pass is something else. ‘What if it, y’know, stops?’ he asks, timidly, while clinging to a towel that’s become a sort of comfort blanket. I assure him we can always roll back down but, of course, we make it to the wintry summit with ease and the journey through a vast valley of mountains and beautiful villages is fantastic, the DS staying calmly unruffled even when my dad has a turn behind the wheel and seems to be channelling Paul Coltelloni on the 1959 Monte.


    It’s 6.30pm when we hit the valley floor and breathe a sigh of relief. Toby is particularly pleased to be back on the flat and heading for big blue autoroute signs. But within spitting distance of the main E35 a landslide has shut the road. The Swiss police officer speaks very little English but points us towards ‘Furka’ and the ‘train’. So the DS turns around and heads for this mysterious train, panic again rising in the car. In Realp, a few kilometres away, we find an open-sided car transporter that rattles through the Furka Tunnel for 15km in almost complete darkness and deposits us in Oberwald, tired, hungry and not knowing exactly where we are.

    For the first time we resort to sat-nav and ponder just how far away the French border looks right now. The answer is ‘very’. But with little choice we push on to Lausanne, past Geneva and finally into France. Now we’re really tired and roll into the little town of Châtillonen-Michaille, more in hope than expectation of finding a hotel at one o’clock in the morning. At the first roundabout two gendarmes are waiting and request a breath test. Once I’m proven to be sober they lead us to a hotel, we pop our credit cards into a machine and two room keys are ejected as if by magic.


    Monday is a breeze. We finally top-up the LHM, tighten that mirror again and just keep adding fuel every 350km or so (the fuel gauge doesn’t work so we’re being cautious). The DS really is a fantastic car in which to cover miles. The engine isn’t the smoothest but that four-speed manual ’box is light, almost effortless, the ride is fantastic but not so floaty as to make you feel queasy, and the light, quick steering and superbly responsive brakes make it feel almost modern once up to speed.

    We missed our 500-mile target yesterday so the speed creeps up to 140km/h or so and still the DS just strides on imperiously. Mâcon, Dijon and Reims slip by and soon we’re gliding into the Eurotunnel terminal. We go FlexiPlus, the tunnel’s version of Business Class. This incredible car deserves nothing less. Dad climbs out and pats the roof once we’re on board. ‘It’s part of the family now,’ he says.

    ‘700 MILES INTO OUR JOURNEY, A BODGED WIPER BLADE AND A LOOSE MIRROR ARE ACCEPTABLE ISSUES IN A 43-YEAR-OLD CITROËN’

    Above Getting high on the St Gotthard Pass. Remember, this journey started in 30-degree heat by the Mediterranean. Passengers wearing shorts are beginning to feel the cold…

    Above, left and right In a tunnel near Termoli, Italy – the DS proved the perfect classic for sustained autoroute cruising; at Maranello, outside what are possibly the most hallowed gates in the motoring world.


    TECHNICAL DATA 1972 CITROËN D SUPER

    Engine 1985cc four-cylinder, OHV, #Solex carburettor
    Power 108bhp @ 5500rpm
    Transmission Four-speed manual, front-wheel drive
    Steering Power-assisted rack-and-pinion
    Suspension
    Front: leading arms, self-levelling hydropneumatics, antiroll bar.
    Rear: trailing arms, self-levelling hydropneumatics.
    Brakes Powered discs, inboard at front
    Weight 1361kg
    Performance
    Top speed 100mph
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  •   Jethro Bovingdon reacted to this post about 4 years ago
    Jethro Bovingdon unlocked the badge Reviewer
    Reviewer
    Reviews blog posts that is created on the site. To unlock this badge, you need to rate more than 25 blog posts from the site.
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  •   Jethro Bovingdon reacted to this post about 4 years ago
    Jethro Bovingdon created a new group
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