Hit The Road Like Jack
Sydney Morning Herald
Friday June 20, 2008
With the coming of the Toyota Yaris began the part of my life you could call my life on the road. I hadn't quite experienced a miserably weary split-up but I had the feeling that everything was dead, that I needed to traverse the groaning continent in a real gone little bangtail cat of an automobile.
So I turned the key, twirled the radio dial to pick up the sprinting rhythms of bop and headed down that endless ribbon. I sensed the road must eventually lead to the whole world. That the road was life. Yeah, man, I'm coming across all Jack Kerouac on you. But I'd just reread Beat classic On The Road and, since I needed to go to Queensland anyway, I decided not to fly. Instead, I wanted to throw the tent in the back of a car and stay firmly connected to the ground.For transport, I asked for the smallest car that the world's almost-biggest car maker makes, or at least sells here.There are those who will say a 1.3-litre, 63kW three-door Yaris hatch is a mighty odd choice with which to take on the great screaming frenzy of cars through New England and the Granite Belt. But it just suited the mood.Heading north on the winding Bucketts Way, it showed remarkably long legs, as long as my own right leg, which was extended as far as it would go. I passed though Stroud, where a sign said "Book Sale - rectory verandah", and at Gloucester I turned left into the Thunderbolts Way towards Armidale.I took it all in wide-eyed, though not for the reason Kerouac had wide eyes. He was travelling on vast quantities of Benzedrine - I kept moving solely with gasoline.At Surfers everybody looked like a broken-down movie extra. I walked among the puffy-eyed motel blondes, hustlers, pimps and bellhops and plan my return via the coast.It's a while since I've had to go back to second gear on the open road in a modern car but that was the case through the high country. On one memorable occasion in the hills behind the Gold Coast I found myself in first gear.The Yaris also moved about quite a bit in fast corners, a reminder that economy cars usually have economy tyres. And it was harder than normal to keep the speed constant because the little engine is so affected by changes in terrain.But, hey, it does the job. Trips take only slightly longer than in a more powerful car. And there are many faster, dearer machines that don't feel as solid, as user-friendly and as functional. An example: the Yaris is honeycombed with convenient little cabinets to store things. This is usually a recipe for squeaks and rattles. Not here; everything is superbly anchored down.Along the way I checked the fuel economy, something Kerouac failed to do in On The Road or any of his similarly wanderlust-filled follow-ups. (If he'd paid a bit more attention he might not have had to pick up hitchhikers to help with the gas, man.)Here's why the Yaris is the car for the age - or indeed for the road. Without driving for economy, and with a tight new engine, I never did worse than 6.0 litres/100km and sometimes made it below 5.5.That compares with the Yaris's official combined cycle of 6.0L/100km - or a LandCruiser Sahara's 14.5.Increasingly we're going to be saying "a small car for a big country". Sure, there are moments when a little more metal would be reassuring. When I was being cut up by trucks with more wheels than I had cubic centimetres, I did reflect that it wasn't the class of car I'd most want to have an accident in.Still, the object of the exercise is to miss things. And, anyway, even in a Yaris, I'd back myself against a graphic designer on a Vespa.On the way down the coast I sat on the beach at Byron watching the sun come down to the left, feeling profoundly sad. Parts of the past were unreeling dizzily and my trip was now more than half over.A day later I arrived in Sydney, having blown tens, not hundreds, on gas on the return trip.It felt flat and gloomy to be stationary. But I knew the Yaris, like the road, would go on forever. Man, I really dig them both.
© 2008 Sydney Morning Herald
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