The Top Gear Story

by Martin Roach

  Each week, photos of cars are held aloft and discussed/berated by the presenters, with occasional interjections from the studio audience, after which the threesome agree which side of the wall they can go on: ‘Seriously Uncool’, ‘Uncool’, ‘Cool’ and ‘Sub-Zero’. Each presenter has different and highly subjective criteria for classifying a car’s cool factor – for example, Clarkson uses the idea of whether the car would impress his celebrity crush, Kristin Scott Thomas (or more latterly, Fiona Bruce). Other times, he disagrees with Hammond and takes precedence by putting the photo out of reach of the diminutive star (when Clarkson slipped a disc, Hammond got his own back by placing a car photo at the bottom of the board). In Series 4, they also added the ‘DB9 Super-Cool Fridge’, having reviewed that car in a category of coolness all of its own (later adding another Aston, the Vantage). There has also been the ‘Crock/Classic’ Mini-Cool Wall for more vintage cars.

  One definite rule-of-thumb is that any car owned by one of the presenters – regardless of how super-cool it had previously been – is automatically consigned to the ‘Uncool’ section. This seems harsh when it traps cars such as the Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder purchased by Jeremy after reviewing it in Series 8, Episode 7. Comparing the convertible Lambo with the new Ferrari 430, he damned the latter (unusual for Clarkson) as boring and serious, while revelling in the madness of the baby Lambo. He openly admitted to being in love with the Gallardo and admits – like love – that his feelings were not necessarily rational (he wasn’t a fan of the hard-top Gallardo). So irrational in fact were his emotions that he promptly went and bought one, but in doing so consigned the beautiful supercar to eternity on the ‘Uncool’ end of the Cool Wall. (Note: the Top Gear team seem to like Lambo drop-tops, a style of car that had historically seen numerous supercars turn into badly handling death-traps; when Hammond went on the Paloma bull run, he happily compared the Lambo Murcielago to that adrenaline-fuelled experience.)

  The ‘Uncool’ status bestowed on any presenter’s car is perhaps more understandable for James’s Fiat Panda, whose picture ended up several metres left of the board in an ‘Uncool’ anti-Aston section of its own. Usually, automatic ‘Uncool’ models include hybrids, diesels, most 4x4s, People Carriers and German cars. Worse still, the BMW 3 Series E90 was considered so ugly that it was not placed on the Wall at all.

  Although many cars are consigned to oblivion due to entirely subjective reasoning, there are several hard and fast rules for avoiding the ‘Uncool’ part of the Wall: avoid buying celebrity cars; also those that are ‘fashionable’ such as Audi TTs or VW Beetles; supercars and sports-cars are not guaranteed shoo-ins; customising, accessorising or souping up an ‘Uncool’ car won’t suddenly make it cool; the cost is irrelevant but the colour isn’t; some cars are cool for boys but not for girls (and vice versa) and finally, it’s not about an entire brand, it’s each individual model.

  After a fire on set in the summer of 2007, the ‘Cool Wall’ enjoyed a sabbatical before returning for Series 11 and is now long since established as a vital part of the show. As an aside, the Top Gear team also sell a Cool Wall Activity Sticker Book with its very own ‘Cool Wall’ poster, which you can put up and then attach various stickers of cars where you think they deserve to go. There is also a ‘Cool Wall’ app for the iPhone, where you can play along, too. I have both, naturally.

  CHAPTER 6

  Caravans

  There’s a conker tree at the end of my lane. My two little petrol-heads have just discovered the joy of collecting conkers and we are currently soaking the two largest in special vinegar-and-water solution prior to launching an all-conkering (apologies) assault on the English championships. It’s a fabled and longstanding rite of passage for any self-respecting boy and his father. Of course, when you grow up, you still want to play conkers but society dictates it really wouldn’t be decent for grown men to continue with such childish games … unless of course you work on Top Gear.

  With Series 1 flying the flag for testosterone-fuelled challenges and supercars, it was clear that the new version of Top Gear would not shy away from the more dramatic world of motoring. The on-screen chemistry between the three presenters was immediately apparent from May’s first show in Series 2 and this is often best seen when they are basically fooling around. And what better to fool around with than a caravan?

  The series has a hate-hate relationship with the little white traffic jam-makers. Over the years, Clarkson and chums have made no secret of their intense dislike for the homes-on-wheels (perhaps on a par only with cyclists). This has manifested itself into numerous hilarious stunts. The first time that the innocent ‘van’ was desecrated came in Series 2, Episode 1, when they burnt the show’s debut caravan with the afterburner of a drag-racing jet car; however, the tense relationship really worsened in Series 2, Episode 6. For this show, the team tested the Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution VIII versus the Subaru Impreza WRX STI. After the clip had been shown, Clarkson revealed an out-take of himself in one of the cars, going berserk as the crew followed a caravan up ahead at a snail’s pace. He went on to describe the hotel-on-wheels as ‘the bane of our lives’. Clearly, something had to be done.

  In response, the Top Gear team attempted to set a new land speed record for caravan towing. The current record stood at 128.8mph, so they sent new boy James May to a track to see if he could top that. Using a turbo-charged Mitsubishi Evo 7, which could generate more than 700bhp, a stunt driver called ‘Lee’ (notably not The Stig as would be the norm in later series) and an Abbey GT 214 caravan, they attempted – and failed – to beat the record time. A combination of cross winds, caravan kitchenette window blow-outs and ultimately, the Evo blowing a piston defeated them. Still, May had his revenge and dropped the caravan from a great height off a crane at the end of the show.

  In Series 3 (otherwise largely dull when it came to fun features), the schoolboys/presenters took the caravan owner’s car of choice – a Volvo 240 estate – and attempted to see how many caravans it could jump over, Evel Knievel style. They chose the car because it was ‘the caravan’s friend’. ‘Every summer they ruin our roads,’ declared Hammond, before going on to slaughter caravans as transport vermin. So, how many caravans could the Volvo jump? Not many, it transpired.

  The vendetta was taken up a notch in Series 4 while playing darts with cars. Using a gas-powered cannon normally reserved for mad stunts in James Bond movies, Hammond and May perched themselves on the top of a quarry and proceeded to fire six old cars at a dartboard, way down below. After several disputed shots, they decided to clarify the bullseye with the placement of the ultimate target: a caravan. With telling poignancy, the very last car is a caravan-loving Volvo and Hammond triumphs by hitting the bullseye/caravan perfectly after which he announces: ‘We are all winners because the caravan bought it!’

  However, it was in Series 5 that Top Gear revealed their most vicious-ever caravan abuse when James May joined Hammond to play the aforementioned ‘Caravan Conkers’. It was actually the much-maligned Health and Safety Executive (HSE) who inspired this challenge after they had declared in 2009 that children wanting to play the age-old game should wear safety goggles (Clarkson has gone on record as calling the HSE ‘the PPD’, which stands for ‘The Programme Prevention Department’).

  Two enormous green cranes were provided by the same specialist team who had worked with the car-launching hydrogen cannon for the previous car darts sequence. Hammond and May then proceeded to engage in a three-round competition of conkers using a selection of six of Britain’s finest fibreglass homes, such as the Musketeer, the Sprite and of course, the Ford Mondeo of the caravan world, the ubiquitous Monza. Before battle commenced, there was much talk of 3-er and 9-er conkers, with each presenter displaying a genuine glint that betrayed a childhood spent playing the actual game in the playground.

  The caravans were painted a brownish-red to look like conkers but unfortunately the emulsion paint virtually washed off in the rain before filming began. Suspending the carava
ns high in the air and 50 feet apart, Round 1 went to Hammond’s heavy Piper model, but May struck back with a surprise win for his Sprite Musketeer in Round 2 against the much-fancied Monza, only for Hammond to sneak a victory with a high-spec Abbey GT in Round 3, a caravan with hot and cold running water and a separate bathroom, no less, which must have given him the edge. It was all pointless, puerile and utterly great fun. May pretty much summed up the feeling of any ‘bigger boy’ watching this feature, when he said: ‘It’s better than working in a bank!’

  Although this was perhaps their most violent demolition of the hated towing beast, undoubtedly the best Top Gear caravan jinx came in Series 14, when May went up in a caravan airship, racing Hammond on the ground in a Lamborghini. The very sight of the caravan strapped to the base of a Zeppelin-esque airship was perhaps one of the most bizarre of any episode of Top Gear, but things quickly started to go wrong. The original plan had been to land the odd-looking flying machine on a cricket pitch somewhere in Cambridgeshire (and ideally in the middle of a match for obvious dramatic effect) but strong winds rapidly blew the caravan airship off-course so it crash-landed in a farmer’s field near the A428. Although the tabloids ran pieces about May’s ‘lucky escape’, in fact no emergency services were needed, not least because the accident was at a recorded speed of 2mph. You walk at 4mph, so the ‘crash’ actually resembled falling over … slowly. (Note: May once suffered a sprained wrist while ‘travelling at speed’ in a shopping trolley for Top Gear Live in 2006).

  The humble caravan also found itself repeatedly battered as an indirect result of otherwise unrelated challenges, such as the time when the team were testing the resilience of a 911 Turbo and decided it would be a good idea to drop the German car from a great height onto a caravan. Later, the roles were flipped for a Toyota Hilux feature, when they dropped the caravan from a great height onto the pick-up – proving beyond doubt that despite their complaints about the ‘van’, if nothing else it is a highly versatile vehicle. Hammond has also tried to see how far a car towing a caravan can jump in response to the same stunt being done by the rival show, Fifth Gear.

  Meanwhile, James May slept with the devil on his show, Oz and James Drink to Britain, in which he travelled the nation drinking with famed wine connoisseur Oz Clarke (surprisingly, you would expect May to be a nifty vino tippler, but he’s actually a dedicated bitter man; he has also said: ‘I’ve never quite trusted water, I don’t think it’s entirely healthy.’). May drove around the isles in a predictably British Rolls-Royce Corniche Cabriolet, but he risked the wrath of his Top Gear colleagues by spending good money on a 1978 Sprite Caravan for their sleeping quarters. Judas!

  Of course the most obvious thing to do with a caravan is to go on holiday and that’s exactly what the Top Gear team did in Episode 6, Series 8. They bought a lovely Elddis for £3,000 and attached it to a Kia, the Caravan Club’s ‘Towing Car of the Year’ no less (Clarkson’s own opinion of the brand is slightly less positive, dubbing it ‘soulless’). The team set off for Dorset and before long there was a huge traffic jam behind them, with the three presenters cringing with embarrassment in the Kia. Hammond even declared: ‘I can’t bear the shame!’ Clarkson made the point that while the Caravan Club claim their members will pull over and let traffic queues past periodically, he has never once seen this in 30 years of driving.

  After the Top Gear dog (‘TG’) was sick in the car, they finally made it to the caravan site where they initially parked so badly that they wrecked a neighbouring tent, before Hammond went off for a cup of tea with the site’s owner. At one point, Clarkson pulled out an AK-47 rifle, which he felt he might need for a weekend away with James May.

  After a bad night’s sleep, the next morning they went for a country walk with a grumpy Clarkson moaning about boredom; eventually they stopped to use their binoculars to spot interesting cars on a nearby A-road. On their return, Clarkson rustled up some food … only to set fire to the caravan! After various abortive attempts to put out the blaze, the next-door tent also catches fire. Eventually they make a swift exit as fire crews and sirens blare out, as if to advertise their stupidity. So, an advert for the joys of caravanning this was not.

  Notably, this particular feature did attract criticism in some quarters for being a little too scripted and forced; the team happily admit the ‘accidental’ caravan fire was staged for dramatic effect and that they paid the Emergency Services around £1,000 to attend the filming. Frankly, who cares? It was hilarious!

  Later, when appearing on the comic TV show Room 101 – where guests list certain items they hate – Clarkson sent a shower of things he detested into oblivion, including flies, The Last Of The Summer Wine, club-house snobbery at golf courses, vegetarians and … caravans! (Comedian Sean Lock later put Clarkson himself in his own selection for oblivion.)

  Of course kids in the post-Millennial world of stringent Health and Safety Regulations aren’t always allowed to play conkers. The Top Gear presenters might possibly argue that the same ban should apply to adults driving caravans …

  CHAPTER 7

  ‘How Hard Can It Be?’

  Top Gear’s lavish production does not come cheap. According to some sources, a conservative estimate for a ‘normal’ show would be in excess of £100,000. However, executive producer Andy Wilman says they spend that ‘on crisps’. If the figure is wildly short of the mark, it still looks like good value to the BBC, who sell the programme on to numerous countries where it is watched by 350 million people. When you rake in the licensing, merchandising sales and rights as well as peripheral earnings, it makes for a sizeable income stream against the original cost. Given that The Simpsons is rumoured to cost over $1 million per episode, that might just make Top Gear look like the TV bargain of the century.

  It’s easy to see where all the money gets spent. One enduring feature of the programme has been the various madcap challenges the Top Gear team set themselves. At first, these challenges were more often quite short clips and stunts – a bus jumping motorcycles, trying to run a car on poo or a nun driving a monster truck, for example. However, over time longer features started to creep in, often introduced by the presenters complaining about a certain problem within motoring, or perhaps a tricky issue facing car manufacturers preceded by the words, ‘How hard can it be?’ Although the phrase was not at first an official segment of the show, repeated use has turned it into a Top Gear perennial and one that is usually followed by a groan from the audience as everybody knows calamity is about to strike.

  A personal favourite in this category is the so-called ‘Toybota’ challenge, in the third episode of Series 8. This was a frankly ridiculous, laughable yet brilliant challenge. Back in the studio, the trio had been lamenting the lack of a viable car that could also drive into and travel through water. Periodically, various zany British inventions promised to revolutionise this area of transport but let’s face it, they never really caught on. Clarkson found this weird because we are, after all, an island nation and so Top Gear decided to do something about it.

  The production team gave the three colleagues just two days to make their own amphibious cars, without actually telling them what the end challenge would be. Clarkson perhaps not surprisingly goes for the full power option, buying a Toyota Hilux truck – he named the good ship ‘Toybota’, a good choice of vehicle for sure. But then he wanted to strap two mega-powerful 500bhp outboard motors to the back of it. The expert brought in to save the presenter from imminent death watched aghast and had to explain to Clarkson that so much power was enough to empty most harbours and would make his Toyota un-sailable. Undeterred, Jeremy then proceeded to try out some sample boats and until the last second still insisted that they needed twin engines. He was also averse to making any form of hull, saying the whole point of the exercise was to make a car that could sail, rather than a boat that looked like a car.

  Hammond was a little less ambitious in the power stakes and opted for a trusty/rusty VW Camper. He rolled up wearing motorbike leat
hers and quickly turned the traveller’s van of choice into a houseboat. Then James May sailed in – literally – with his elegant Triumph Herald, complete with mast and sails. He seemed at ease with the prospect and was even said to be a ‘sailor’ although it later transpired that it was 31 years since he’d last set foot in a sailing boat! However, his effort did not get off to a good start when the car wouldn’t even start. Cue much hilarity from his rivals.

  While all this was going on, it’s hard not to reflect again on the logistics of this entirely ludicrous piece of television. For a start, the presenters would need at least three separate film crews to capture the respective efforts of each design idea. Then there would be the mechanics of each car/boat, bringing in the expertise to transform them into amphibious sea-faring vessels (although Clarkson’s ‘expertise’ seemed to consist of smashing the Hilux with a sledgehammer). And all the materials … and fuel … and insurance, and so on … Imagine organising all of this. The end result is a brilliant feature, but one that only lasts a small segment of a one-hour TV show.

  Amid a sarcastic comment from Clarkson that, ‘It’s the coldest March for 20 years because of global warming’, the intrepid trio meet up at the calm, still waters of a rural lakeside. May’s Herald was last to roll up and simply drove effortlessly into the water. Hammond, meanwhile, drove down a concrete ramp, broke the flywheel as he entered the water and rendered his vessel powerless before he’d even started. Eventually, he borrowed an outboard motor and they all set sail.