on the sidewalls

As I’m sure Michael Douglas will agree, Catherine Zeta-Jones is a funny bugger. Slinky, toned and reasonably proportioned yes, but also prone to the odd mood swing. Pretty, but clearly high maintenance. So it’s fitting that Alfa chose her to play the lead role in one of their most famous commercials.

To celebrate the firm’s 100th birthday, which is today, here’s a little Alfa nostalgia featuring Mrs Douglas herself. The reason for her pouty display actually has nothing to do with there not being enough room for her to get in – it’s just that the central locking had packed in. And she forgot to recite some typically Alfa-esque trivia as she climbed through the car – the boot of her 156 ‘Sportwagon’ estate is smaller than the 156 saloon’s.

So Happy Birthday Alfa. This ad sums you up perfectly – beautiful, moody, not that practical… and occasionally broken.

In the UK, today is the longest day of the year – so, purely because today is the only day long enough to enjoy them all, we’ve compiled a list of the most protracted, long winded car names ever. Take a deep breath and prey the sun’s still up when you’re done…

5. Toyota Estima Lucida G Luxury Joyful Canopy

An example from the country that gave the world such gems as the Mazda Bongo Friendee, the Mitsubishi ‘MUM 500 Shall We Join Us?’ and the Suzuki Every Joy Pop Turbo. In the UK and America, this Toyota MPV is called the Previa – but in its domestic market of Japan that’s obviously not descriptive enough. Although, seeing as the Estima Lucida G Luxury Joyful Canopy isn’t particularly luxurious or joyful, we’re not sure quite what the name is describing. At least the Canopy bit is vaguely accurate – it refers to the big glass roof.

4. Land Rover Range Rover Sport Limited Autobiography Supercharged

Ah, yes – the Range Rover. It’s made by Land Rover. And this is the lower, tighter Sport model. In top spec Autobiography trim. With a supercharger. Despite the vast array of badges weighing it down, the LR RR SLAS can crack 62mph in 5.9 seconds thanks to the V8 motor’s 503bhp and 461lb ft of torque. It’ll cost you though – the £70,540 starting price works out at £1,259 per letter.

3. Lamborghini Murcielago LP670-4 Super Veloce China Limited Edition

The self explanatory name was obviously chosen by a primary school teacher who’s really good at teaching children to spell phonetically. Just like the teacher will say Lam Bor Gee Nee, Lambo themselves simply spelt out the name by listing its constituent elements. So it’s a Murcielago, it’s got 670PS, it’s got 4 wheel drive, it’s the 100kg lighter super fast model, and it’s a Limited Edition model for China. Only 10 were made, all in the same colour scheme, and all sold to Chinese customers.

2. Rolls-Royce Silver Spur II Touring Limousine by Mulliner Park-Ward

The standard Silver Spur II, released in 1989, was 5.4 metres long – but for some customers even that didn’t allow them to be far enough away from the peasant-class driver. So specialist Rolls Royce coachbuilder Mulliner Park-Ward stepped in and lengthened the car by 60cm, allowing the cigar chomping passenger to sit a further 2 feet away from the chap in the hat up front. It’s so long that there’s enough room for a 10” CRT TV to be mounted in its own walnut cabinet in the middle of the passenger compartment. And the name’s long too. Obviously.

1. Chevrolet Corvette Silver Anniversary Indianapolis 500 Pace Car Replica

In 1978, Chevrolet released a special edition Corvette called the Silver Anniversary to celebrate the model’s 25^th birthday. Pretty smart. The ‘Chevrolet Corvette Silver Anniversary’ is a bit of a mouthful, but it’s an important occasion so easily forgiven. However, that wasn’t the end of it. Because at the 1978 Indy 500, the pace car was a Corvette Silver Anniversary… and what respectable car company wouldn’t make a special edition to acknowledge that? Well, none – not even GM.

So, they slapped on some more silver paint, garnished it with a red pin stripe, bolted on a couple of spoilers and called it the Chevrolet Corvette Silver Anniversary Indianapolis 500 Race Car Replica. Which, as far as we know, is the longest car name ever – with a staggering 63 characters. Perhaps if GM hadn’t spent so much money on name badges 30 years ago, they’d be in less trouble now.

Thanks to various people who we stole pictures off without asking. If you want them back, just ask.

In a survey we’ve just made up, it’s been revealed that 97% of all Jaguar XK8 reviews contain the word ‘golf’. Other fictional statistics of note include a 70% appearance rate of the phrase ‘more grand tourer than out-and-out sport car’, and a surprisingly low 50% score for ‘great place to be’. This conclusively shows that the XK8 forces writers into more tedious clichés than any other car in the world. Which is probably why you’ve never really wanted one – the lazy journos put you right off it. Golf is boring, so the car is boring.

They’re wrong. Well… actually, they’re half right to be fair: golf is boring. But the car isn’t, and that’s what matters now. Yes, the shape and capacity of the XK8’s rear was determined by Jag’s desire for it to accommodate two sets of golf clubs, but that doesn’t have to set the tone for the whole car. It’s far more interesting than a Nick Faldo pleasing arse. It’s Happy Gilmore.

On sale between 1996 and 2006, the XK8 is chronologically, dynamically and stylistically, the exact middle ground between fusty old Jags with quilted leather door cards and brand new ones with brushed aluminium dashboards and theatrical gearsticks. Except right at this minute, it’s cheaper than both new and old: a new price of at least £60k at the end of the last Century has now dropped to…wait for it… £5k. Which means you should want one. We do. Seriously and genuinely. It’s not like it’ll depreciate any further. Persuaded? Good. Now for the buying advice.

First, fuel economy. Every single XK8 came with a V8 so they struggle to go much above 20mpg. Before you even consider buying one, think how angry you’ll be when you realise the £90 of juice you’ve brimmed it with has gone after little more than 300 miles. You’ll be very angry. You might even want to punch the fuel station man in the face… and that could land you a nasty bout of community service. If, however, you don’t cover many miles and can stomach the thirst, you’ll be fine. Read on.

At launch in 1996, the XK8 came with a 290bhp, 4.0 V8 that lurched the car to 60 in 6.5 seconds and on to 156mph. Three years later, the XKR came about with a supercharger and an extra 80bhp, then the 4.0 V8 became a 4.2 in 2002 and the whole range got a facelift in 2003. As supercharged XKRs start at £8k, 4.2 cars start at £10k and facelifts slightly higher still, we’ll peg our ambitions at a standard 4.0. 290bhp is plenty anyway.

The biggest problem with these early (pre-2000) cars is the potential for bore wear, thanks to their Nikasil cylinder lining. A receipt for a new engine would be a bonus, but as long as it now runs smoothly without any lumps either at idle or under power it should be fine – so make sure it’s creamy and lovely. The wear is caused by fuel with a high sulphur content, which modern fuel doesn’t have, so if it’s OK now it should be OK full stop.

Cam chains and their tensioners are the second biggest ball-aches in the engine. Pre-2000 cars had plastic tensioners that were prone to cracking, causing a whole world of misery. The clue to cracked tensioners is a rattle when starting, especially from cold, so keep your ears sharp and be wary of any cars where the seller says ‘ah yes mate, just warmed it up for you – she’s ready for a drive’. Look him in the eye, and tell him he’s a devious little bastard. Then go home.

One step further from the rattle is a rough engine, indicating that a tensioner is so worn that the cam chain has already slipped a tooth – one more slip and the engine will go pop and your heart will break. If the tensioner’s been replaced, sensible folk would replace the chains as well, so look for receipts. Cam chains themselves should really be changed before 100k miles too – a £1000 job with new tensioners.

The gearbox is ‘sealed for life’ but can start to slowly use oil without you knowing it, as there’s no easy way of checking. On a test-drive check for smooth, timely changes and make sure there aren’t any problems kicking down or changing up. Suspension bushes can wear leading to slack ride and handling, costing £500 for a front set, and wheel bearings can grumble and whine costing another £400 to put right. Easily spotted, not terminal and an easy negotiating point.

If you find one with no sign of bore wear, a receipt for a new timing chain and tensioner, a smooth gearbox, taut bushes and quiet wheel bearings for less than £7k you shouldn’t go far wrong. Put some private plates on it, give it a polish and 80% of people will think you’ve spent at least twice what you have done on your shiny new motor. And that statistic is real.

Let’s get the obvious out of the way with first. Skoda haven’t made a rubbish car for a decade, and the Superb name is neither new or inaccurate, so don’t scoff at that either. Alright? Good. Now we can get on.

Based on last year’s all new saloon, this is the first ever Superb Estate – and it’s proper, genuinely, 100% totally bloody amazing. Not in a ‘oh yeah… that Skoda’s really brilliant… I mean, ha, fancy Skoda making a good car’ way. Not in a ‘I suppose it’s an impressive achievement considering its price’ way either. But in a ‘Shit. Really. Where an earth did that come from? Wow’ way. If you want an analogy, this is their iPhone – a product that does absolutely everything, redefining the brand all over again.

Seeing as sycophantic reviews always sound rubbish, we’ll stay factual, measured and objective… and being as it’s an estate, we’ll start with the boot. The Superb’s rear measures 633 litres with the seats up and 1865 litres with the seats down – massive. But unless you frequently carry around fresh air or litre bottles of water, that’s all meaningless. So have some reference points:

Volvo’s biggest current estate is the V70 – with the seats up it’s got a 575 litre boot, rising to 1600 when they’re down. So the Superb Estate has a bigger boot than the biggest Volvo. Fact. That also makes it bigger than an A6 Avant, new BMW 5 Touring, Ford Mondeo Estate, Vauxhall Insignia Sports Tourer and VW Passat Estate. In fact, the only estate on sale today with a bigger boot is the new Mercedes E-Class.

So we’ll use the big-E as a reference point for price, interior quality and equipment – a Mercedes is a tough benchmark for a Skoda to match after all. The cheapest Superb Estate is the 1.4 TSI at £18k, rising to the most expensive £30k 3.6 V6. The very cheapest E-Class Estate is also £30k, in the shape of the E200 CGI 4-cyl petrol. A handy comparison.

The interior of the Skoda is better to look at, nicer to touch and more intuitive to use than the Merc’s. Less tacky, better damped, more ergonomic. There’s more kit in it too, including the best touch screen entertainment system of any car on sale anywhere, standard fit sat nav and the flawless DSG gearbox from VW. If you want sat nav and auto in the Merc, you’ll need to spend another £2,500.

But you still won’t have the Skoda’s performance – the V6 has 260bhp and cracks 62mph in just 6.6 seconds. Through the gears, using the massive 258lb ft hunk of torque that’s spread right across the middle of the rev range, you’ll outrun most hot hatches that bother to try. The £30k Merc is 80bhp and 60lb ft down as well as two seconds slower to 62mph… a Merc with similar performance and similar kit costs over £40k. Crikey.

Of course though, you’d be a little mad to buy a brand new V6 car with an mpg figure in the 20s when petrol costs £1.20 a litre. As quick as it might be, it’s not worth the pleasure. What you should really get is the sensible 140bhp diesel which, even when you’ve added the DSG box, costs less than £25k in top-spec Elegance trim.

With the double clutch set-up, the diesel Superb is just as smooth as the V6, barely noisier, cracks 60mph in 10 secs and is still effortlessly torquey – but it’s quoted at 51.4mpg combined. The most economical, cheapest Merc estate diesel is over £6,000 more expensive, 5mpg worse off and only 1 second quicker to 62mph. Its auto box isn’t as smooth as the Skoda’s automated manual either.

Bored of the praise yet? Sorry. It’s nearly over. We’re labouring the point just to make sure you don’t under-estimate quite how brilliant the Skoda is. The E-Class Estate hasn’t been used because it’s an easy benchmark to beat and prove a point – it’s been used because it’s currently the best premium estate on sale, and because it therefore gets the closest to matching the Skoda’s ginormous spread of talent.

So, bad points then. Erm… literally? No. Space, refinement, speed, price, economy, ergonomics, equipment, quality and even styling are all beyond criticism. This is a real second coming for Skoda. After the revelation at the beginning of the last decade that they can make cars as good as anyone else, they’ve now gone and shown that they can actually make cars better than anyone else.

If you can think of another estate that can do everything the Superb does, please let us know. If not, then let’s all form a loyal band of disciples and worship the new Messiah of Estates. If Apple geeks can call the iPhone the Jesus phone, can’t us car geeks call the Superb Estate the Jesus car? You don’t get a brolly in the door of an iPhone anyway.

Car manufacturers make a big deal about their heritage. VW stitch chequered patterns into the seats of brand new Golf GTIs to invoke the ‘spirit of the original’, Peugeot have the nerve to badge a gawpy faced shopping trolley as an S16, and BMW even hi-jacked someone else’s heritage when they celebrated the original Mini’s 50th birthday as their own. But why bother? What does such Tony Robinson history gazing actually prove?

Two things. First, that car companies were more innovative and interesting in the past than they are now. And second, that they think people don’t like change. So when the mk5 Golf GTi came around with a radical new double clutch gearbox, proper handling and 200hp, VW didn’t say ‘it’s completely different’ they said it was ‘the original, updated’. Despite the fact it was totally new. Apart from the pattern on the seats, obviously.

The point of such comforting, stylised references is to encourage brand loyalty; ‘don’t worry, your new car will have all the things you like about your old car… but it’ll be better’. We don’t ever really feel the past seeping through a car’s controls and dynamics – we’re just told it’s there. In the DNA. Invisible, intangible… but there. Outside of seat fabric semiotics though, it’s largely bollocks. Marketing, not engineering.

Which makes the Mazda CX-7 a massive surprise, because it’s the exact opposite: a car without heritage, that somehow manages to feel like its busting at the seems with DNA. Not just any old gene strings either, but straight from their most iconic, heritage packed car – the mk1 MX5. It’s because of something we’re going to call mechanical continuity – the tiny but tangible feats of engineering that give a car its character, and that can make different machines genuinely feel related. A sense of mechanical continuity is exactly what the badge engineered new Minis and Peugeot S16s lack. There’s no tangible relationship to the cars which apparently inspired them.

Drive the CX-7 and MX-5 back-to-back and, despite the enormous differences in their purposes, the similarities are more striking than the differences. Not because of some flaky reference to the spirit of open-topped motoring either, but because of an impression of genuine ancestry. The gearchanges, for instance, could have been made on identical factory lines. Snicky, short, mechanical, deliberate and satisfying – each car’s box rewards a precise left hand.

The steering too, has a closely related manner. Over-assisted around the dead-ahead, quick to react, detailed under load and linear… both systems feel like they’ve come from the same engineer’s workshop. Light, sharp clutches which punish lapses in concentration. Brakes which bite with little effort but can be modulated easily. Interiors with circular vents, clear dials and stubby gear levers. Bodywork that doesn’t feel as if it’s got class leading torsional rigidity. The cars are separated by 15 years, 750kg, drivetrain layouts, transmissions, purposes and even number of seats… but there’s a clear ancestry pinning them together.

So why don’t Mazda say call it ‘the MX-5… but off-road’ or something? Why don’t they peddle the past to sell the future? They’d got reasonable grounds to do so after all – the CX-7 feels more closely related to an MX-5 than a 207 S16 does to a 205 S16 after all. They could have given it pop-up lights and everything.

It’s probably because they think the car buying public aren’t stupid. They don’t expect us to fall for the marketing spiel… they know that seat fabrics don’t give a new car the spirit of an old one. It’s a commendable, respectable way of dealing with car buyers. Treating them respect, and an assumption that we’re not all susceptible to pretty pictures and break dancers with Gene Kelly’s head. And when was the last time you saw a CX-7? Exactly. Never. We’re too stupid to give it a chance. If it was called the MX-4×4 they’d be all over the place.

A few months ago, mad-cap Yank tuning shop Hennessey mentioned something about dropping a 1,000bhp, twin-turbo V8 into the back of an Elise and calling it the Venom GT. Sounded daft. Then they released some shadowy pics, then a shonky road test video, then they were featured in Top Gear mag and then… they’d comfortably proved they weren’t daft at all. They were insane. Just in case we needed more reasons to question their mental health, they’ve just released a new video of the car on a dyno. Sounds amazing.

In a couple of weeks, the Range Rover will be forty years old. Through four decades of technological progress, it’s not only become the best off-roader in the muck, but the best off-roader on the road. It had coil springs, on and off-road ABS, driver and passenger air bags, self levelling suspension and electronic air suspension before any other SUV.

But the Rangie’s muddy-time tech innovations aren’t the only factors in its success. There’s also the bling… and nothing says bling like over-guilded, diamante encrusted headlight jewellery. So to celebrate the fact that Range Rover can make cars for crystal fingered footballers without annoying the hard-working farmers, here’s a chronology of Range Rover headlights – from the soft Halogen of a 1970 Classic to the LED and Xenon pierce of a facelifted L322. You can click it to make it bigger.

Now shut your eyes, blow out the twinkling LED candles, and wish for another 40 years of Range Rovers that satisfy tarty taste without sacrificing mud-munching prowess. Happy Birthday Range Rover – and never forget that farmers are more important than footballers.