Makes and Models
The Cardboard Lexus
Remember when you were a little kid and a cardboard box could provide hours of fun and games? I have vivid memories of my son pretending a cardboard box was a car, especially after his uncles decorated the box with BMW logos (is it a coincidence that he now dreams of owning a BMW X3?).
Lexus has managed to come up with a grown-up version of the cardboard box car, with a little help from LaserCut Works and Scales And Models in the UK. I’m not sure if you’d call the result a sculpture, a model car or the first glimpse of the next big thing in environmentally friendly motoring. In a nutshell, what they’ve made is a cardboard version of one of their very popular IS range . Yes, cardboard. Just about very single bit of the body. What’s more, you can really drive it.
Apparently, the idea was inspired by one of the more unusual tests given to the engineers who work on the Lexus assembly lines: they have to be able to fold an origami cat using their non-dominant hand (this is the left hand for those of us who are right-handed). The origami skill test alone is intriguing enough, as well as being so very typically Japanese. Some of the design features of many Lexus vehicles (Lexi? Lexuses?) look like traditional origami sculptures, so the next best thing for a good publicity stunt failing an actual origami Lexus was to come up with the cardboard version. I guess they couldn’t find sheets of paper big enough.
The cardboard Lexus looks just like the real thing apart from the colour and the visible lines where the different segments of cardboard end. However, if the light’s not brilliant or if you just see it trundling past down the road, you might easily mistake it for the real thing. It’s got the distinctive Lexus spindle grille. It’s got the twin headlights and the air intakes. It’s got the logo. It’s got doors that open and shut, and it’s got a full interior – it’s more or less made a 1:1 scale model car using very, very sturdy cardboard around an aluminium and steel frame.
How they did this is the LaserCut precision laser tooling folk took a standard Lexus IS 300 h sedan and got all its specs from the CAD drawing used by the actual Lexus production works. The car – interior and exterior – was then reduced to a series of slices, each as thick as the sheets of cardboard used by the creative team. A precision laser cutting machine cut each slice out and each piece was numbered so that the cardboard Lexus could be put together properly. The cardboard version was assembled entirely by hand after the cutting process. Here’s a video showing you how it was done:
The finishing touch was to add an electric motor into the engine bay so this cardboard Lexus can really drive. Whether or not it’s the same electric motor as you’ll find in the real Lexus 300h (which is a hybrid vehicle), we don’t know. However, the motor really turns the cardboard wheels, which respond to the cardboard steering wheel.
The result is a little short on the bells and whistles you’d find in the real thing, and the cardboard version certainly doesn’t go anywhere near as fast. However, it does go from A to B.
This model was done just for fun. However, given the current high use of plastics and the like in vehicles, the drive to make things lighter and the push for using sustainable resources, have Lexus stumbled onto something? Add in the requirements for impact-absorbing crumple zones and steering columns that collapse in the case of a collision so the driver doesn’t get impaled and a lot of possibilities open up. In future, will parts of vehicle bodies (not the ones that have to be structurally sturdy and protective, of course) be made from renewable and recyclable cardboard?
They’d better do something about the waterproofing or any future cardboard cars will suffer the same fate as my son’s long-ago cardboard box BMW: getting wet and soggy, then disintegrating.
Private Fleet Car Review: 2016 Hyundai Tucson Elite
A Wheel Thing is lucky to be part of a team that Hyundai Australia contracts to deliver a dealership model launch experience. Earlier in 2015, it was the new Tucson, a reinvigoration of the ix35, itself once called Tucson. There’s a four model range, a mix of engines and gearboxes and slightly different headlights for the top two, the Elite and Highlander. Originally booked for the top of the range Highlander, a bingle saw that car taken out for a repair break and the Elite subsequently handed over.
A new buyer has a choice of Active, Active X, Elite and Highlander, with a combination of 2.0L petrol with either multi-point or direct injection, a 1.6L petrol turbo and a brawny 400 Nm 2.0L diesel; the Elite came with the diesel. 
Choosing the diesel gives you all wheel drive as well, along with a sole gearbox option, a six speed auto (the others have either a six speed manual or 7 speed dual clutch auto for the turbo petrol). The donk is a typical, low revving, load lugger, with that 400 Nm on tap from 1750 to 2750 revs.
The second or so that it takes to fire up the engine once the starter is pressed is disconcerting, and unusual in today’s crop of diesel engined cars, which are alive in a blink after twirling the key or hitting a stop start button. Another question mark is the lack of brake bite when the pedal is pushed. There’s no real sense of grab and it really does need a firm shove down to feel any retardation. Given there’s no less than 1622 kilograms to haul down, using 305 x 25 mm vented front discs and 302 x 10 mm solid rears, it wasn’t confidence inspiring.
Of real note with the Tucson, is the overhaul of the exterior compared to the ix35. It’s physically a bigger car yet still compact at 4475 mm x 1850 mm x 1660 mm (with roof rails,) compared to 4410 x 1820 x 1690 mm for the ix35 and rolled on 17 inch diameter wheels, with 225/60 rubber. There’s some carry over in the look, with the rear window line not dissimilar to the outgoing ix35 but there’s a dramatic difference at the front.
Gone is the laid back headlight cluster and solid horizontal bar in the grille, replaced by Hyundai’s new corporate look and a slimmer, dual headlight (for Elite and Highlander) cluster with LED technology, bending and self levelling tech as well.
It’s a full five seater inside, with plenty of leg room for the driver and passenger thanks to a 2670 mm wheelbase, at 1053 to 1129 mm, whilst passengers on the rear pews get a more than decent 970 mm, sitting ahead of a 488L (1478L, seats down) cargo space. There’s LED lighting, curtain airbags, pretensioning seatbelts, ten position electric driver’s seat, dual zone aircon, satnav, Hill Start Assist but only the Highlander gets the higher safety package systems such as Blind Spot Detection, Lane Change Assist, four sensor Front Park Assist, Lane Departure Warning and Cross Traffic Warning.
All Tucsons also miss out on an important feature; a dash and console that’s visually appealing. It’s not unattractive but there’s a distinct lack of cachet, bling, “look at moi, look at moi”. Yes, it’s clean to look at, ergonomically laid out but seriously lacking in eyeball pulling power.
Having said that, there’s two 12V sockets, power tailgate, puddle lamps in the wing mirrors and door handle lights, comfortable cloth trimmed seats,an eight inch touchscreen, rain sensing wipers, steering wheelmounted audio and phone controls and the Tucson comes with a five-year/unlimited kilometre warranty and 10 years’ roadside assistance to sweeten the deal even further.
On road manners are impeccable; the Australian engineering team worked hard and hand in hand with their Korean counterparts and have endowed the Elite with some of the best handling characteristics you’ll find in a mind size SUV. On a flat road, with the expected little bumps, dips and undulations, there’s nothing that appears to faze the Elite Tucson. It’s firm yet with just enough give to not rattle teeth, settles nicely from quick moves and shopping centre bumps. The steering is well weighted enough in Normal mode, as Hyundai persists in its three mode steering assault, and is best left in that mode as anything else simply enhances the feeling of unnatural feedback and response.
Engine response is as expected; off boost there’s hesitation; under way there’s that mountain of troque to keep the Elite bubbling along and makes overtaking a doddle. It’s reasonably quiet, with plenty of insulation keeping the noise at bay and economical enough. Hyundai quotes around 6.5L per 100 kilometres for the combined cycle but, as its natural home will be suburbia, the 8.2 to 8.9 (depending on wheel size) seems more realistic.
The Wrap.
Lack of dashboard pull aside, the Tucson Elite ticks a lot of boxes. Missing out on some of the safety features the Highlander has is neither here nor there, in A Wheel Thing’s opinion. The range covers all the bases and with the size increase moves up to compete with Mazda’s CX-3 AND 5. Toyota has just released a facelifted RAV4 and, of course, there’s the Tucson’s sister vehicle to consider as a competitor, the Sportage.
It’s a handsome looking beast, well and truly at home on tarmac, is HIGHLY unlikely to see any off road action (even with 18 cm of ground clearance), has some of the best ride and handling characteristics you’ll find in its class. The range kicks off at $27990 plus ORC’s, with the Elite well priced at $35240 to $40240 plus costs. Click here for detailed information: Hyundai Tucson range brochure
Baby Names For Motor Enthusiasts
Mum and Dad named me Skoda!
One of the life events that sends people on a hunt for an MPV or some other large family-sized car is the addition of a new person to the family. I think I may have covered the things that need to be considered when choosing a family car in another post a year or more ago. But what about the new person in question? You’re going to have to pick a name for your new child, so if you’re into cars at all, why not look to the motoring world for inspiration?
An awful lot of cars are named after people (or at least their surnames), so why not name a baby after a car? However, you should have some consideration for the kid in question and follow all the usual rules such as thinking about how the name would look or sound in the grown up world – painted on the side of a commercial vehicle with “Contracting Ltd” after it, inserted into “Your captain on today’s flight is xxxx” or “Dr XXXXX will carry out your knee replacement surgery.” So combining anything automotive with the surname Carr is probably out (except possibly as a second name – if you have to!) or anything really outlandish (at least for Australian culture) like “Toyota” or “Mitsubishi”.
Other names have a lot more promise, partly because they were names for people before they were names for cars. The one topping the list here is, of course, Mercedes. In the pre-WWI era, a designer named Emil Jellinek for working for Daimler decided to honour his daughter by naming a line of vehicles after her. The cars were good and the name “Mercedes” caught on and was continued long after the merger with Benz. (Note: if you have the surname Benz, don’t call your daughter Mercedes.) Other good names that are now associated with cars but are (or were) decent people names are:
- Ford (boys)
- Holden (boys)
- Lincoln (boys)
- Royce as in Rolls-Royce (probably boys but you could possibly get away with calling a girl Royce).
- McLaren (boys)
- Bentley (probably boys but maybe a girl)
- Aston (boys)
- Martin (as in Aston Martin) (boys)
- Austin (more of a boy’s name but could be OK for a girl)
- Morris (boys)
Other car marques may not have been taken from names (some have been) but you can probably get away with them as they sound fairly similar to other names out there and won’t sound too outrageous, especially with alternative spellings:
- Lexus (probably girls but OK for a guy)
- Alfa or Alpha (boys or girls)
- Romeo (boys – although he may not thank you!)
- Chevy (boys and girls)
- Opal – sounds like Opel (girls)
- Portia – sounds like Porsche pronounced the right way (girls)
- Minnie (girls – although she’ll have to put up with the nickname Mouse)
- Suzie (short for Isuzu or Suzuki – girls)
- Chrysler (probably boys)
- Tesla (probably girls)
- Lotus (for a girl –preferably if she’s got a bit of Asian in her genetic mix)
You don’t have to stick to marque names. Model names are a much richer source of inspiration as well as making life a bit easier on your child. You may love Renault cars but don’t want to saddle your daughter with the name “Renault”, but Clio and Megane are just fine. If you’re a Saab fan, then Griffin would work for a boy (so would Viggen if you look a bit Scandinavian). And what about Lizzie as in Tin Lizzie as in the classic Model T Ford? Sierra, Ranger, Cressida, Cherokee, Cooper and Octavia, Laurel and Astra won’t raise too many eyebrows. These days, you can probably get away with Wrangler, Cayenne, Jetta, Odyssey, Leaf, Genesis and Journey as well… but only just. Car parts such as Axel might be OK, but avoid Dipstick. Turning to the two-wheeled world, there are plenty of Harleys out there.
However, there are probably some “don’t go there” names. Spare a thought for the kids out there who have been saddled with the following
- Diesel
- Veight (as in V8)
- Jaguar
- Jeep
- Audi
- Cougar
- Falcon
- Paxton (after the supercharger system)
- Camry
- Dodge
- DeLorean
You should definitely avoid the following, which haven’t (at least as far as I know) been given to children. At least I hope not…
- Volvo (change the vowels…)
- Studebaker
- Avenger
- Cruiser
- Rover and Landrover
- Maloo
- Ute
- Fiat
- Aircross
- Evo
- Pajero
- Volkswagen
- Getz
- Tiida
Of course, if you originate from Japan or Korea, you are better placed than I am to comment on the wisdom of calling your child Suzuki, Ssangyong, Nissan, Subaru or Mitsubishi. You can probably get away with it and claim that it’s traditional.
What other car-related children’s names have people come across, considered for their children or even been given? Share your best finds here?
Safe and happy driving,
Megan (No, my parents did not drive a Renault!)
Private Fleet Car Review: 2015 Renault Clio R.S. Cup
A Wheel Thing has completed a French trifecta, with Renault now on board and supplying a Clio R.S. Cup. There was a week with the hot hatch, complete with dual clutch gearbox, licorice thin rubber and spine bending performance, coupled with a metallic soundtrack.
Compact is an apt word for the Clio, with just 4090 millimetres between the front and rear, 1448 mm from top to bottom and a not indecent 1732 mm side to side. Don’t go hunting for big speedbumps however, as ground clearance is a measly 118 mm…you can go hunting for other hatches though, with a rorty 1.6L turbo four up front, passing through 147 kW (6000 revs) and a very handy 240 torques at a very handy 1750 rpm through to the front wheels via a six speed dual clutch auto.
It’ll drain the 45 litre tank at a reasonable clip when pushed hard, with official figures quoted at 6.3L of Premium 98 per 100 kilometres on the combined cycle, with highway and urban ranging from 5.1 to 8.1. A Wheel Thing managed to get to just on 600 kilometres before a top up, with a high proportion of highway driving. Weighing just 1217 kilograms helps.
That engine is hooked up to a six speed dual clutch auto and this suffers from the same “too much between connected and not” between gears when at low speeds, such as moving from a driveway. There is a Sports Mode, not unsurprisingly, activated via a push button, located in the storage locker free centre console nestled between the front seats. Hitting that whilst under way has the same effect as being shoved, hard, between the shoulder blades, when the command to go is given. Launch Control is also included.
Gear shifts sharpen up, the horizon turns into a picture of a starfield as you hit warp one, there’s the “phut, phut, phut” from the exhaust and the metallised screech from up front. The steering is razor sharp anyway, buoyed by the short wheelbase, turning in so quick it feels as if it’s just a few inches in length, instead of the corner pushing 2589 mm that it really has. A rapid 2.67 turns lock to lock adds to the keeness of the handling.
What wasn’t keen was the ride; the tyres were Dunlop SportMaxx and at 205/40 on stylish black painted ten spoke alloys of 18 inches in diameter (called Radicale), transmitted both noise and every ripple, lump, bump and five cent piece on the road through to the driver. Suspension give? A brick would be more amenable.
It’ll follow the road’s surface as if each corner is glued to the tarmac, and there’s benefits to that. The tightest of corners, the off camberest of off camber turns, the grip is stupendous. Just don’t find any bumps bigger than a pimple…
There’s more than a scent of French chic about the R.S. Cup, with svelte lines, trim curves and a set of hips that would give Bardot pause. The somewhat goggle eye headlights are the only design feature that jibes with the rest, sitting atop a design feature not unlike a curved Gallic moustache, with the rear end seeing trim tail lights integrated into both the hips and the rear hatch door and there’s twin exhausts integrated into the lower valance.
The interior is a mix of hard plastics, no centre console, boy racer labelled speaker grilles (is there REALLY a need to have Bass Reflex printed on them?), red stitching on the steering wheel at the twelve o’clock, with the wheel itself virtually devoid of any buttons bar a couple for cruise control, whilst there’s no mistaking the paddle shifts due to size and alloy colour against the black background. Seats? Snug,wrap around, supportive and imbue a full sense of sports and safety.
The driver sees a very basic display, with a dial for the tacho, fuel and a centre screen with speedometer. Aircon controls are unconfusing dials, set below the centre console stack airvents and touchscreen navitainment, surrounded by fingerprint grabbing gloss black plastic. To the right of the screen were the inputs for auxiliary sounds, being the 3.5 mm plug and a USB.
One presumes this is for a charging cable, not an easily broken USB stick, whilst a cable would get in the way as the port is some eight or nine inches above a small tray just ahead of the gear selector.
The cargo space is 300 L with the split fold seats up, growing to 1146 L when flattened out. Due to sheer size of the Clio, don’t expect to be able to slide your new 55 inch flatscreen tv in there though. The aforementioned centre console-less section does offer three spaces for cups or bottles, but lacking a storage locker also means no elbow support for driver and passenger.
The Wrap.
It’s hard edged in the ride, razor sharp in the steering, has a lovely and rorty exhaust note, a split personality when you use the Renault Sports button but lacks real comfort both in ride and interior trim. Yes, the intent is to be kicked along harder than a brand new soccer ball but a car can still be balls and all manic without necessarily resorting to a minimalist approach.
With the smallish fuel tank and desire for more pricy but performance friendly 98 RON to consider, at around $34K driveaway, a buyer needs to consider just how their driving style can be enhanced or hobbled, as well.
For details of the range, go here: Renault Clio sports range
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