As my lifeless, sunken eyes currently show, I said hello again to parenthood five weeks ago. As life-changing events go, it’s a biggie, especially when you’re in your mid-40s and already have a grown-up son approaching university graduation. Quite apart from disturbed sleep patterns, domestic challenges and a renewed sense of being entirely responsible for the life of another helpless human being, it does focus the mind somewhat when it comes to being a motorist.
I have mentioned before within these pages that I’ve had pressure to sell the family Scirocco; so far, I have got away with keeping it. It still hasn’t had its gearbox seen to (not the disaster story I had been led to believe), but it passed its annual inspection test with flying colours, so there’s little urgency to get rid of it, but its physical limitations as a family load-lugger are becoming more apparent each time we go anywhere in it as a trio.
For starters, the fortress that is the little man’s car seat means the front passenger has precious little legroom – they butt against each other while the infant’s throne is snapped into its Isofix anchor points. That in itself isn’t really an issue right now, because Mrs H rides in the back with him, but getting in and out of a diminutive hatchback isn’t that simple when it involves getting a restless baby settled.
The small boot, too, is going to become a thorn in my side, because when we start having to take a pram anywhere with us, I now realise it will be fighting for space with more baby paraphernalia than I ever thought possible. If there’s a passenger in that front seat, we’re going to have a problem, Houston.
So once again my mind is turned to what could feasibly take its place in our car-park space. A second-hand Volvo XC60 I spied on Dubizzle was a possibility (stonking performance, a gorgeous interior, distinctive looks and unparalleled levels of occupant safety), but I wasn’t quick enough off the mark and missed it. But it’s that safety factor that’s highest in my list of priorities right now – having a child forces you to revisit your priorities in life.
So many new cars come replete with so-called safety functions such as blind-spot warnings, automatic brake assist and lane-keeping hardware, but I can live quite happily without them. What I require from the Scirocco’s replacement is build integrity, intelligently designed crumple zones and energy absorption, along with practicality that makes life easier, if a little less stylish. And frankly, only Volvo is flicking my switch at the moment, especially after my recent visit to its Swedish factory, where I saw first-hand how its cars are designed and constructed.
Driving anywhere in this part of the world is a risky business, I’m sure most people would agree, so it’s imperative for my newly extended family to experience as much protection as I can reasonably afford. When I was a young boy, our family car was the one I now use as a weekend toy: a Triumph TR6. I shared space with my two brothers on what is ostensibly a rear parcel shelf – unthinkably irresponsible nowadays, but times were different back then, not least regarding passenger protection. When I was a boy, seat belts were deemed to be a massive inconvenience, but now my son has to travel everywhere in a device that could probably withstand a nuclear explosion.
For all my bluster and bravado in times past, it’s the responsible thing for me to change my car. I’m fortunate that I get to drive a never-ending procession of press vehicles in my capacity as a motoring journalist, so there’s still plenty of scope for four-wheeled fun. But sensible family transportation beckons, and I need to quickly make a decision as to what form that car will take.
motoring@thenational.ae
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