My new car hasn’t arrived yet, but my old car is gone already. Of course this would happen in just about the worst month of the year for me to be without a car, because of course it would. Luckily my parents hardly use their car, so I have been able to borrow theirs quite a lot — and it’s an interesting contrast, especially as a farewell to the internal-combustion engine before I embark on a full-EV lifestyle.

My parent’s car is a Peugeot 206 CC, the one with the folding hardtop. At the time this car was introduced, a folding hardtop was the sort of feature you found on a Mercedes SL — and here was Peugeot, putting it on a little city runabout car.

A Peugeot 206 with its top down — not actually my parents' car, but basically its twin

I wouldn’t call the 206 a good car, necessarily, but it’s an interesting car to drive. It has that bagginess that is typical of old French cars — or was, back when car manufacturers had distinctive national characters, and weren’t just one of an assortment of masks worn loosely by yet another faceless multinational conglomerate. The softness of the suspension and the vagueness of the steering are of course accentuated by the sometimes alarming amount of flex in the chassis occasioned by the removal of the roof, and made evident by hilarious levels of scuttle shake that make the central rear-view mirror basically useless with the roof down. And of course I have been driving it everywhere with the roof down, partly because the air-conditioning is broken, and partly because it’s the major feature of the car and the source of most of its charm.

That brings me to another very stereotypically French aspect of this car. It has relatively low mileage for its age: it’s nudging 25 years old, but it’s barely cracked 160k km (100k miles). Mechanically it’s mostly sound, apart from the air-con, but the trim is absolutely cascading off it. Everything in the cabin is loose, cracked, and rattly, where it has not actually fallen off already.

Regardless, it is actually quite good fun to hold (not actually that much) speed as the car wobbles its way through the corners, shoving the recalcitrant gear-lever home with a decisive push, and of course feeling the wind in my hair and hearing everything that is going on outside. It’s a salutary reminder of just how much cars insulate us from our surroundings, turning everything into TV, as Robert Pirsig wrote.

You just need to be aware of the car’s limitations, as I was forcibly reminded just yesterday, when I piled into a corner as if I were in my old Giulia, only to be very nearly deposited in the ditch as the suspension and steering flailed around with little effect on the car’s trajectory. This, incidentally, is why I have been known to espouse quite politically-incorrect opinions about fixed speed limits: what is perfectly safe in one vehicle, given its performance envelope and state of maintenance, is actively dangerous in another, even (as in this case) for the same driver.1

This opinion is of course only valid on out-of-town roads; in town, I am all in favour of lowered speed limits (30 km/h or 20 mph) and utterly humourless enforcement thereof. But respect for regulations is based (among other things) on the understanding of those regulations as reasonable and correct. Setting a 70 km/h limit with no overtaking on a long straight road with no crossings and guardrails on the sides is an invitation to law-breaking — which then carries over to city-centre low-speed zones.

Of course all of this is academic in the 206, where 100 km/h feels supersonic. Maybe that is the answer: force everyone to drive whatever the EV equivalent of a Citroën 2CV is. If you want to go fast, take the train.

  1. It should go without saying, but experience tells me that it needs to be said: brake for cyclists and other slower road users, don’t overtake where you shouldn’t, and generally don’t be an idiot. In the hypothetical scenario where I am made Supreme God-Emperor of the world and actually get to put this idea into practice, it would come with a requirement for additional testing and insurance. Basically, you can take advantage of higher speed limits2 if you have a special driving licence, renewed yearly, and carry additional insurance as well. If you are found to be e.g. driving on worn tyres, draconian penalties would apply, on the basis that you should know better. ↩

  2. In Italy we already have the converse of this: newly-minted drivers are supposed to follow lower speed limits for the first three years, and cannot drive vehicles beyond a certain power rating. The latter makes sense, but I have no idea how anybody is supposed to enforce the former. ↩