NEVER having splashed out on a skidoo, it is fair to say that in the absence of anything that might be interpreted as enjoyment from a rider’s and driver’s perspective, my mind wanders to potential additions and/or replacements to my fleet of low-cost vehicles. (As it does throughout the year, given half a second of dead time.)
Canny buyers are mindful at all times of the arc of demand for certain types of car or motorcycle. The depths of winter is not the time, for instance, to cut a deal on a 4x4 which will not only keep you moving but also cushion you from the abysmal conditions that prevail from now until March. What you will be able to source for a relatively small outlay, however, is a soft-top. And given the choice and proliferation of well-engineered, easily maintained models to suit most budgets, there are bargains galore.
In the same way that I firmly believe the best music criticism comes from those who have fought in the trenches of creative endeavour – and bear the scars – it is crucial for anyone offering their opinion on the merits or otherwise of convertibles to have experience of owning one.
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Without a doubt the best car in every sense that I have owned was a Mazda MX-5, ripped hungrily from a friend’s partner for a mutually satisfatory sum a few years ago. Matched to a kerb weight that was equivalent to a catering box of Swizzels Double Dips, the eager 1.8-litre engine and rear-wheel drive made piloting the MX-5 an absolute hoot. You couldn’t switch off for a moment on corners. With your bahoochie mere inches from the Tarmac you felt in contact with every rut and dip. Unlike many convertibles, the chassis and handling were engineered specifically to function at their peak with no roof to provide rigidity, and you could tell.
The soft top, though, was as much use as a chocolate watch. The car spent most of its time in my ownership with its (admittedly fetching) hard top keeping the outside world where it belongs – outside.
And this is my point. Anyone living north of Camden should forget owning a convertible as anything other than a summertime toy, yet this blindingly obvious statement of fact seems to have been lost on a huge number of people. Even now, within touching distance of the winter solstice, a period of oppressive cold and unrelenting dampness, people are driving convertibles – and not bog-standard ones either. Porsche, Mercedes-Benz, Audi, BMW: I’ve seen them all in the past week, as suited to the weather as a pair of Converse. Quite apart from the fact the roofs are perishable and hardly rejuvenated by the constant battering of rain, hail and snow, not to mention the effects of ice, the cabin of a soft-top in winter isn’t the cosiest place to be, however powerful the heating system.
Unsurprisingly, the most pleasure I ever got from in the MX-5 was with the top down, pootling around the Loire Valley, a place where the average high temperature in July is 23C. Just saying.