Motoring
Crime corner
Alan Judd
The first car I had stolen was my beloved Mark II Jaguar, left on a south London street for one night. The police said it would have been across the Channel by morning. Probably that was a way of say- ing they had no hope of finding it, nor intention of looking, but I preferred to believe them rather than imagine such a solid unrestored example being broken up for parts.
The recent theft of my Range Rover, which I mentioned last month, was less eas- ily understood. Although I live in the coun- try, I have neither garage nor drive, so it lived on the road. Yet it had one of those yellow steering lock things and looked as if it had knocked about a bit, the motoring equivalent of W.H. Auden's Passchendaele face. It was also 13 years old and disliked moving more than 13 miles without refreshing itself with a gallon of four-star. Not many people's idea of a desirable, or easily saleable, car. I was thinking of trying to sell it, so in that sense they did me a favour, except that you always carry more in a car than you realise — tools, toe-rope, tax-disc, canvas sheeting, boot-liner, roof- rack, waterproofs, umbrella, child seat, gloves, maps, back support and whatever.
Police reaction this time was more elabo- rate. I was sent the name of the 'investigat- ing officer' and bumph about Victim Support. I'd be surprised if anyone has time actually to investigate crimes like this and the form of support I most craved was the apprehension and ingenious punish- ment of the villains, but nonetheless it's a step in the right direction. The main thing, of course, is to get your crime reference number for insurance purposes, and my insurers — Frizzell — were as efficient, prompt and helpful as any victim could wish. So prompt were they that the claim was settled and the missing car legally theirs by the time the police rang on a Sat- urday night to report it found. It was in a part of the county notorious for the activi- ties of those people once beloved by the Liberal Party and referred to by the politi- cally incorrect around here (which is virtu- ally everyone) as gippos or diddi-kies (phonetic, because neither my Shorter Oxford nor Collins can help — can Dot Wordsworth?).
On the Sunday I went to bid the Range Rover farewell. A sad sight, missing num- ber plates and much else and looking as you might imagine W.H. Auden after a week of rough trade and no booze. They'd taken all my screwdrivers but left one of their own, which I thought good enough to nick until I got it home and found it blunt- ed, presumably by smashing through too many locks.
The result is my first Japanese vehicle, a 1990 Isuzu Trooper (the earlier square model, not the more rounded contempo- rary one) with which I am so far mightily pleased. Its 2.8 turbodiesel is lively and economical, the gearbox is a constant easy pleasure and the sitting position is upright and relaxing. Off-road performance seems likely to be adequate or better. It's less heavy and solid-feeling than the Range Rover — dare I say tinnier and more vibra- tory? — but it's galvanised and feels well put-together and durable. It moves more willingly (and much more cheaply) than the Range Rover, which always felt as if it were having to overcome several miles of trans- mission to get the wheels to turn. My 1957 Dumpy Book of Motors and Road Transport (I wish someone would update it) tells me that Isuzu originated in 1916, made Wolse- leys under licence 1918-1927, then made mostly their own trucks and buses. In 1957, they were assembling Hillman Minxes from parts imported from here, with 'arrange- `OK kid, so which one wanted you to sit on his lap?' ments well advanced for their complete manufacture'. How times change, but my heart still warms to Isuzu.
I've had an alarm and immobiliser fitted, making it the first of my fleet to have one. Short of sleeping in it or removing the wheels, it seemed the only thing left to do, although now that I've done it everyone tells me that if 'they' want to steal it, 'they' will. Presumably it might still deter the more casual thief, but I worry that it will lock me out along with everyone else. Or in — I knew a lady whose BMW did that and she had to drive around until she found a BMW garage where she made alluring ges- tures to startled mechanics. I never fully trust electronic things and really wanted a clockwork alarm that I could wind up every night, but they don't seem to do them.
Next month I hope to report on another Japanese, the luxury Toyota Lexus. No doubt it will come with more electronic gadgets than I've had vehicles — 59, count- ing the Isuzu. I overtook my own age some- where in my thirties, since when it has seemed important to keep ahead.
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