Read Online Clarkson on Cars by Jeremy Clarkson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jeremy Clarkson
Tags: TRAVEL / General, Television Journalists, English wit and humor, Automobile driving, Transportation / Automotive / General, Automobiles, Language Arts & Disciplines / Journalism
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workforce are in the R&D department.
I suspect there are two reasons why they are working on everything. One is because of that indigenous Japanese trait called nationalism and the other is because that was the only phrase these guys have licked. Even the translators were about as good at English as I am at French.
I know things like ‘
Et maintenant, comme le chien
’ and ‘
Vous avez des idées an dessus de votre gare
’. But a full-scale technical press conference would, I fear, leave me floundering.
It seems strange that having gone to what were obviously enormous lengths to make sure our stay was totally trouble free, they didn’t find bilingual chappies who know how to say ‘three-speed automatic gearbox’ in Japanese and English.
Maybe they could and weren’t letting on. Maybe I’m a cynical old sod.
Certainly, it seems at first that they’re being more open than any industry chappy you’ve ever encountered; not once, for instance, did anyone say ‘no comment’ or ‘I can’t tell you that’ and they did show us a top secret prototype, but I do get the impression that half the time they don’t understand your question and the other half, they just tell you what they think you want to hear. Maybe again.
While touring their Shiga factory, I was desperate to see what measures were incorporated to make their damned cars so reliable. There were none. The plant was no more automated than European equivalents, quality control no more strident.
There were just a few guys working on machines the size of Coventry that churn out a completed 1.3-litre engine every 28 seconds. There were big digital scoreboards announcing how close to target they were and there was an air of cleanliness. In short, the only thing that stood out as being special were the workers, who behave rather differently from those I’ve encountered in Europe. They didn’t flick V signs at us. Perhaps it’s because they were too busy bowing.
Then there was the rendition of Johnny Mathis’s ‘When A Child Is Born’ which was playing over the loudspeaker system to commemorate our visit.
We were shown every engine being tested to 4500 rpm, and we were shown the camshaft machine which must have breathed a sigh of relief when the engineers announced the new 16-valve engine wouldn’t be a twin-cam and we were shown the tropical fish aquarium. No, I don’t know why either.
We also saw an MR2 being tested and Bertone’s name in a visitors’ book but still they maintained a sports car is not in the offing. ‘We’re working on the idea,’ said one of the translators.
Maybe the reliability just comes because of the workers’ devotion to duty. My personal guide hasn’t taken a holiday in ten years and is currently owed 130 days off. ‘I’m just too busy to go away but I’m working on it,’ he says.
Maybe it is as a result of there being no women on the factory floor. I dunno but I do know there is no obvious reason why the average Daihatsu is a whole lot more reliable than the average Eurobox.
‘We don’t have hooligans,’ suggested one hopeful individual who helps make the cars, but I hardly think that all Rover SDIs broke down because they were vandalised on the production line.
After the factory tour it was back onto the bus for a lesson in why Japanese interiors are so universally awful – have you seen the interior of the new Toyota Landcruiser? It’s disgusting.
But it’s nothing when stacked up against that bus, which in turn was positively tasteful compared with the innards of a Japanese taxi – I’ve been in a Nissan Cedric and let me tell you that if it were fitted with a tachograph, the damned thing would blow up.
They actually
like
crushed velour seats, antimacassars with scenes of Japan on them, swinging things on the rear-view mirror and gaudy striping to go with the fake stitching. And chrome. Oh boy, they can’t get enough of it.
To complicate matters, they simply couldn’t understand why we all
I suspect there are two reasons why they are working on everything. One is because of that indigenous Japanese trait called nationalism and the other is because that was the only phrase these guys have licked. Even the translators were about as good at English as I am at French.
I know things like ‘
Et maintenant, comme le chien
’ and ‘
Vous avez des idées an dessus de votre gare
’. But a full-scale technical press conference would, I fear, leave me floundering.
It seems strange that having gone to what were obviously enormous lengths to make sure our stay was totally trouble free, they didn’t find bilingual chappies who know how to say ‘three-speed automatic gearbox’ in Japanese and English.
Maybe they could and weren’t letting on. Maybe I’m a cynical old sod.
Certainly, it seems at first that they’re being more open than any industry chappy you’ve ever encountered; not once, for instance, did anyone say ‘no comment’ or ‘I can’t tell you that’ and they did show us a top secret prototype, but I do get the impression that half the time they don’t understand your question and the other half, they just tell you what they think you want to hear. Maybe again.
While touring their Shiga factory, I was desperate to see what measures were incorporated to make their damned cars so reliable. There were none. The plant was no more automated than European equivalents, quality control no more strident.
There were just a few guys working on machines the size of Coventry that churn out a completed 1.3-litre engine every 28 seconds. There were big digital scoreboards announcing how close to target they were and there was an air of cleanliness. In short, the only thing that stood out as being special were the workers, who behave rather differently from those I’ve encountered in Europe. They didn’t flick V signs at us. Perhaps it’s because they were too busy bowing.
Then there was the rendition of Johnny Mathis’s ‘When A Child Is Born’ which was playing over the loudspeaker system to commemorate our visit.
We were shown every engine being tested to 4500 rpm, and we were shown the camshaft machine which must have breathed a sigh of relief when the engineers announced the new 16-valve engine wouldn’t be a twin-cam and we were shown the tropical fish aquarium. No, I don’t know why either.
We also saw an MR2 being tested and Bertone’s name in a visitors’ book but still they maintained a sports car is not in the offing. ‘We’re working on the idea,’ said one of the translators.
Maybe the reliability just comes because of the workers’ devotion to duty. My personal guide hasn’t taken a holiday in ten years and is currently owed 130 days off. ‘I’m just too busy to go away but I’m working on it,’ he says.
Maybe it is as a result of there being no women on the factory floor. I dunno but I do know there is no obvious reason why the average Daihatsu is a whole lot more reliable than the average Eurobox.
‘We don’t have hooligans,’ suggested one hopeful individual who helps make the cars, but I hardly think that all Rover SDIs broke down because they were vandalised on the production line.
After the factory tour it was back onto the bus for a lesson in why Japanese interiors are so universally awful – have you seen the interior of the new Toyota Landcruiser? It’s disgusting.
But it’s nothing when stacked up against that bus, which in turn was positively tasteful compared with the innards of a Japanese taxi – I’ve been in a Nissan Cedric and let me tell you that if it were fitted with a tachograph, the damned thing would blow up.
They actually
like
crushed velour seats, antimacassars with scenes of Japan on them, swinging things on the rear-view mirror and gaudy striping to go with the fake stitching. And chrome. Oh boy, they can’t get enough of it.
To complicate matters, they simply couldn’t understand why we all
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