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Vroom SCREEEECH vrroooOOOOOOMMMMMSCRRREEEEEEEEECH vroooooooommmm...
A few weeks ago I got an email.
"Vauxhall is releasing its new Insignia soon," it said. "Come on down to Millbrook and try it out!"
"Looks like fun," I thought, and signed up.
And so it was that yesterday I and Mamma got in the car and drove down to Oxford, stayed the night with my sister, and headed off bright and early this morning - at the crack of one thirty PM - to the Millbrook Proving Ground in Bedfordshire. We arrived, left our cameras at the lodge (Just below and to the right of the marker on the map below) at the gate - Millbrook is owned by GM and used for testing of lots of prototype vehicles, both civilian and military, so they don't like people running around taking pictures - and cruised on in behind the Vauxhall Antara with the "FOLLOW ME" sign on the back.
View Larger Map
We rolled in through the south-east part of the complex - which is huge, by the way - past a Pinzgauer, three or four Oshkosh PLS - are you following this on the map? - round the roundabout, across the bridge over the Constant Speed Circuit - the big circular track - and up to the main parking area; the circular steering pad that looks like the top of a microphone.
There we piled out of the car and followed the rest of the three o'clock group in. We filled out our disclaimers saying we promised we wouldn't sue if we got killed, and milled around the snacks poking at an Insignia (set up next to a Ford Mondeo and a VW Passat, as a comparison to the competition) until we were called over the tannoy.
It was easy to see where to go next; the entrance to the circular auditorium was filled with smoke and neon colours and rotating beacons and things, basically looking like a really well-funded Quasar or Laserquest. We took our seats and waited for the show to begin.
Now, here's where I wish I'd had my camera. You've seen Close Encounters of the Third Kind, right? Well, that was pretty much it. Two big TFT screens, a circular stage, computer-controlled backdrops, and a really neat thing that looked like a dozen bead curtains in front of each other but which turned out to be a 30x30x30 block of computer-controlled lights, which was a pretty spectacular effect in action. Anyway, then they set off a rather loud and very annoying music track, and Vauxhall's head of Marketing took the stage. He burbled on a bit about the car in general terms - a more detailed briefing was to follow later - talking about the hatchback and saloon versions (which, by the way, look absolutely identical from the outside, and really nice) and then segued into an over-dramatic spiel about the estate version which nobody had ever seen (except, one must presume, the half-dozen 60-strong groups before us today, and the ones that go tomorrow and next weekend).
Cue loud bloody music again, smoke machines go on, lights, ET phoning home, Christmas trees landing on Table Mountain, and being beating about the head with the Blackpool Illuminations. The music blares, beams of actinic light lance out through the back wall - which wasn't a wall, just a grid of lights with gaps between - which then lifts up, and the Insignia estate rolls silently in, seemingly on its own (though the drama was rather shattered by the next speaker mentioning off-hand that it was just driven onto the stage by someone called "Rob"), stops in the middle of the stage, which then starts to rotate until we're looking at it side-on.
It is a damn pretty car, I'll grant them that.
Anyway, then the Insignia project manager stepped onto the stage and did her rehearsed spiel. I can't remember much of it, except that she kept using far too many words, and seemed to be of the opinion that the only reason for nouns was to tie together adjective and adverbs. This was the point where much of the audience was starting to fidget, and I was looking in my pocket for the Discworld book I'd brought, just in case.
The presentation was definitely geared for an American, or possibly European, audience; I could have done without the bells and whistles, and I got the distinct impression that most of the others there would agree.
Anyway, she finally finished wittering on about blade motifs and strong shoulders and whatnot, and drew our attentions to the numbered stickers on our passes; they would denote how we would be divided up for our detail briefings (seemingly pointless, but the smaller groups did make the detail and safety briefings a lot more useful). And then the walls vanished.
It's a simple trick. It's been used in theatres since oh, about ten minutes after the Earth cooled, and it's both cheaper and easier than any of the other effects they'd used in the show.
But the only effect that really made me blink and go "whoa" was when the walls of the smallish, circular auditorium we were in disappeared, revealing a larger hall beyond with six stations dotted about. Such a simple effect - turn the lights up behind the gauze and the "solid" walls become transparent. But very effectively done.
Anyway, so we had our safety briefing, got a better look at some of the details, a quick runthrough of things like the camera that tracks speed limits, the nine different features on the adaptive headlights, the very neat adaptive four-by-four system, and so on. And the passenger airbag lockout switch because, y'know, you might want that some day.
Briefing done, all of us now properly safe (for given values of "safe"), we followed the demo bod outside and joined the other five groups in a big cluster in front of oh, must have been three or four dozen Insignias.
"Right, you've had the safety briefing. What's the speed limit on the Hill Course?"
"Fifty-five," we chorused.
"And on the high-speed circuit?"
"A hundred."
"And don't go into the fifth lane on the high-speed circuit, because there's a prototype Lotus going round there at a hundred and ninety."
That Lotus, by the way? Yes please.
"The silver cars are the basic engine," he continued. "The darker silver ones have the 1.8, the blue ones have the two-litre diesel, and the black ones have the big turbo with the four-wheel drive, top of the range. Over there -" he pointed "- are a bunch of cars from other manufacturers, and you're welcome to give them a go too to compare."
Mamma and I got in one of the diesels first; I did a lap of the Hill Course, then two laps of the High Speed Circuit, then we swapped seats and did it again. It should be noted that Vauxhall weren't sending minders out in the cars with us, presumably so people wouldn't feel they had to say nice things about the cars while they drove. To be fair, though, they needn't have worried.
Anyway, the diesel was great. The gear lever was very well placed, with a nice short throw; the handbrake was an off/on switch, so even my Dad wouldn't be able to over-tighten it; and the ride was magnificent. In a diesel, at 80mph, we didn't need to raise our voices. Acceleration was good, and the only thing stopping me from taking it all the way up to 100 on the HSC was the pillock ahead of us who insisted on sitting at 75 mph in the top lane.
That, I might reiterate, was in the standard diesel version. Next we got in the top-of-the-range model with the big turbo petrol engine, adaptive 4x4, and whatnot. It had an automatic box, which I'd never driven before, but it turned out to be no trouble at all. Very smooth and responsive shifting, nice comfy ride in Tour mode, and it sat flat and solid on the road when I put it in Sport. And the power! The Hill Course was fast enough, but when I got it out onto the HSC I had it up at 100 mph after oh, about sod-all-point-two seconds. The engine gave the distinct impression that it wasn't even breaking a sweat - Mamma and I were chatting at ordinary volumes, the world seemed to be drifting past at oh, perhaps fifty miles an hour? -and the red needle sat firmly on the big 100. It really is a phenomenal car.
We reluctantly gave it back to them, unfortunately didn't have time to try any of the others, and instead boarded a professionally-driven Insignia (Mamma in the back, me in the front) for what they called the "Hot Lap"; two 55 mph laps of the outer handling course. And oooh, that was fun. Stefan, our driver, took the car round at what you could probably call a brisk pace. Tyre squeal in the bends, a few bits going sideways, and through the whole thing the car felt flat, solid, and controlled.
After the handling lap, Mamma went for coffee, and I got on the minibus to the off-road track to try the new-model Antara. ( They had four of them, instructors in the lead and tail cars, and those who weren't the first four to volunteer just tagged along for the ride. Unsurprisingly, I was the first to volunteer.) It's a very pleasant car to drive, nice and civilised and quiet. It's no competitor in the mud for my Land Rover, of course, but then it's not intended to be; it's certainly more than capable in most "ordinary" off-road situations, though, and it would certainly be interesting to put it up against something like a Freelander.
We weren't alone on the off-road course; the new Saab convertible was on the flatter bits doing speed testing, and the Oshkosh 16-wheel trucks were going over the not-so-flat bits. Oh, and "Try not to see the secret new Lotus over there. No, over there, see, where I'm pointing."
In the one I was driving, at least, it was universally agreed that there is quite simply no 4x4 that can't be improved by mounting a machine gun on the roof. This is a universal fact.
We returned to the visitor centre in time for me to do a dismal but enjoyable lap on the Colin McRae Rally game they had set up in the snack room (video to follow, I'm told) and have a chat with some of the staff. Then we piled back into our own car for the drive back to Scotland, which was most pleasant.
All in all, a very enjoyable way to spend a day and a half. And I have to say, much as I wanted to be British and curmudgeonly, I really did like the Insignia. Plus, it's one of the few cars I've been in that actually seemed to be made to accomodate someone my height, rather than being made for Richard Hammond with a hole cut in the roof for Clarkson's hair. A really, really nice car all round. And a great day out. And not counting our travel costs, entirely free.
There is another thing, of course. Of course it was a marketing stunt. It's not even that original; "Get a bunch of members of the public in here, let them drive it, maybe they'll like it and tell their friends." Doing it as they did was unusual, but not unheard of. Word of mouth has been shown to be more effective in advertising than traditional ads, after all. Plus, I suspect the whole shebang still ended up a lot cheaper than an ordinary marketing campaign.
But here's the thing: it's an old gimmick, but a good one, and an easy nine out of ten for execution (would have been ten if it weren't for the big, brash, American presentation in the auditorium, ten and a half if we'd been able to try it on the City Course). Plus, it really is a good car they're plugging.
So what the hell - they deserve it, so I'll happily plug their car. I enjoyed myself immensely, and I genuinely liked the Insignia a great deal. If you have £23k to spare, buy one. If you have £30k to spare, buy the top-end one and laugh at the people who bought Beemers for twice that. (If you've got a lot more than £30k, obviously, get the lovely, lovely new Lotus, because it really is gorgeous, but if you've got that sort of cash you can get me an Insignia while you're at it.)
"Vauxhall is releasing its new Insignia soon," it said. "Come on down to Millbrook and try it out!"
"Looks like fun," I thought, and signed up.
And so it was that yesterday I and Mamma got in the car and drove down to Oxford, stayed the night with my sister, and headed off bright and early this morning - at the crack of one thirty PM - to the Millbrook Proving Ground in Bedfordshire. We arrived, left our cameras at the lodge (Just below and to the right of the marker on the map below) at the gate - Millbrook is owned by GM and used for testing of lots of prototype vehicles, both civilian and military, so they don't like people running around taking pictures - and cruised on in behind the Vauxhall Antara with the "FOLLOW ME" sign on the back.
View Larger Map
We rolled in through the south-east part of the complex - which is huge, by the way - past a Pinzgauer, three or four Oshkosh PLS - are you following this on the map? - round the roundabout, across the bridge over the Constant Speed Circuit - the big circular track - and up to the main parking area; the circular steering pad that looks like the top of a microphone.
There we piled out of the car and followed the rest of the three o'clock group in. We filled out our disclaimers saying we promised we wouldn't sue if we got killed, and milled around the snacks poking at an Insignia (set up next to a Ford Mondeo and a VW Passat, as a comparison to the competition) until we were called over the tannoy.
It was easy to see where to go next; the entrance to the circular auditorium was filled with smoke and neon colours and rotating beacons and things, basically looking like a really well-funded Quasar or Laserquest. We took our seats and waited for the show to begin.
Now, here's where I wish I'd had my camera. You've seen Close Encounters of the Third Kind, right? Well, that was pretty much it. Two big TFT screens, a circular stage, computer-controlled backdrops, and a really neat thing that looked like a dozen bead curtains in front of each other but which turned out to be a 30x30x30 block of computer-controlled lights, which was a pretty spectacular effect in action. Anyway, then they set off a rather loud and very annoying music track, and Vauxhall's head of Marketing took the stage. He burbled on a bit about the car in general terms - a more detailed briefing was to follow later - talking about the hatchback and saloon versions (which, by the way, look absolutely identical from the outside, and really nice) and then segued into an over-dramatic spiel about the estate version which nobody had ever seen (except, one must presume, the half-dozen 60-strong groups before us today, and the ones that go tomorrow and next weekend).
Cue loud bloody music again, smoke machines go on, lights, ET phoning home, Christmas trees landing on Table Mountain, and being beating about the head with the Blackpool Illuminations. The music blares, beams of actinic light lance out through the back wall - which wasn't a wall, just a grid of lights with gaps between - which then lifts up, and the Insignia estate rolls silently in, seemingly on its own (though the drama was rather shattered by the next speaker mentioning off-hand that it was just driven onto the stage by someone called "Rob"), stops in the middle of the stage, which then starts to rotate until we're looking at it side-on.
It is a damn pretty car, I'll grant them that.
Anyway, then the Insignia project manager stepped onto the stage and did her rehearsed spiel. I can't remember much of it, except that she kept using far too many words, and seemed to be of the opinion that the only reason for nouns was to tie together adjective and adverbs. This was the point where much of the audience was starting to fidget, and I was looking in my pocket for the Discworld book I'd brought, just in case.
The presentation was definitely geared for an American, or possibly European, audience; I could have done without the bells and whistles, and I got the distinct impression that most of the others there would agree.
Anyway, she finally finished wittering on about blade motifs and strong shoulders and whatnot, and drew our attentions to the numbered stickers on our passes; they would denote how we would be divided up for our detail briefings (seemingly pointless, but the smaller groups did make the detail and safety briefings a lot more useful). And then the walls vanished.
It's a simple trick. It's been used in theatres since oh, about ten minutes after the Earth cooled, and it's both cheaper and easier than any of the other effects they'd used in the show.
But the only effect that really made me blink and go "whoa" was when the walls of the smallish, circular auditorium we were in disappeared, revealing a larger hall beyond with six stations dotted about. Such a simple effect - turn the lights up behind the gauze and the "solid" walls become transparent. But very effectively done.
Anyway, so we had our safety briefing, got a better look at some of the details, a quick runthrough of things like the camera that tracks speed limits, the nine different features on the adaptive headlights, the very neat adaptive four-by-four system, and so on. And the passenger airbag lockout switch because, y'know, you might want that some day.
Briefing done, all of us now properly safe (for given values of "safe"), we followed the demo bod outside and joined the other five groups in a big cluster in front of oh, must have been three or four dozen Insignias.
"Right, you've had the safety briefing. What's the speed limit on the Hill Course?"
"Fifty-five," we chorused.
"And on the high-speed circuit?"
"A hundred."
"And don't go into the fifth lane on the high-speed circuit, because there's a prototype Lotus going round there at a hundred and ninety."
That Lotus, by the way? Yes please.
"The silver cars are the basic engine," he continued. "The darker silver ones have the 1.8, the blue ones have the two-litre diesel, and the black ones have the big turbo with the four-wheel drive, top of the range. Over there -" he pointed "- are a bunch of cars from other manufacturers, and you're welcome to give them a go too to compare."
Mamma and I got in one of the diesels first; I did a lap of the Hill Course, then two laps of the High Speed Circuit, then we swapped seats and did it again. It should be noted that Vauxhall weren't sending minders out in the cars with us, presumably so people wouldn't feel they had to say nice things about the cars while they drove. To be fair, though, they needn't have worried.
Anyway, the diesel was great. The gear lever was very well placed, with a nice short throw; the handbrake was an off/on switch, so even my Dad wouldn't be able to over-tighten it; and the ride was magnificent. In a diesel, at 80mph, we didn't need to raise our voices. Acceleration was good, and the only thing stopping me from taking it all the way up to 100 on the HSC was the pillock ahead of us who insisted on sitting at 75 mph in the top lane.
That, I might reiterate, was in the standard diesel version. Next we got in the top-of-the-range model with the big turbo petrol engine, adaptive 4x4, and whatnot. It had an automatic box, which I'd never driven before, but it turned out to be no trouble at all. Very smooth and responsive shifting, nice comfy ride in Tour mode, and it sat flat and solid on the road when I put it in Sport. And the power! The Hill Course was fast enough, but when I got it out onto the HSC I had it up at 100 mph after oh, about sod-all-point-two seconds. The engine gave the distinct impression that it wasn't even breaking a sweat - Mamma and I were chatting at ordinary volumes, the world seemed to be drifting past at oh, perhaps fifty miles an hour? -and the red needle sat firmly on the big 100. It really is a phenomenal car.
We reluctantly gave it back to them, unfortunately didn't have time to try any of the others, and instead boarded a professionally-driven Insignia (Mamma in the back, me in the front) for what they called the "Hot Lap"; two 55 mph laps of the outer handling course. And oooh, that was fun. Stefan, our driver, took the car round at what you could probably call a brisk pace. Tyre squeal in the bends, a few bits going sideways, and through the whole thing the car felt flat, solid, and controlled.
After the handling lap, Mamma went for coffee, and I got on the minibus to the off-road track to try the new-model Antara. ( They had four of them, instructors in the lead and tail cars, and those who weren't the first four to volunteer just tagged along for the ride. Unsurprisingly, I was the first to volunteer.) It's a very pleasant car to drive, nice and civilised and quiet. It's no competitor in the mud for my Land Rover, of course, but then it's not intended to be; it's certainly more than capable in most "ordinary" off-road situations, though, and it would certainly be interesting to put it up against something like a Freelander.
We weren't alone on the off-road course; the new Saab convertible was on the flatter bits doing speed testing, and the Oshkosh 16-wheel trucks were going over the not-so-flat bits. Oh, and "Try not to see the secret new Lotus over there. No, over there, see, where I'm pointing."
In the one I was driving, at least, it was universally agreed that there is quite simply no 4x4 that can't be improved by mounting a machine gun on the roof. This is a universal fact.
We returned to the visitor centre in time for me to do a dismal but enjoyable lap on the Colin McRae Rally game they had set up in the snack room (video to follow, I'm told) and have a chat with some of the staff. Then we piled back into our own car for the drive back to Scotland, which was most pleasant.
All in all, a very enjoyable way to spend a day and a half. And I have to say, much as I wanted to be British and curmudgeonly, I really did like the Insignia. Plus, it's one of the few cars I've been in that actually seemed to be made to accomodate someone my height, rather than being made for Richard Hammond with a hole cut in the roof for Clarkson's hair. A really, really nice car all round. And a great day out. And not counting our travel costs, entirely free.
There is another thing, of course. Of course it was a marketing stunt. It's not even that original; "Get a bunch of members of the public in here, let them drive it, maybe they'll like it and tell their friends." Doing it as they did was unusual, but not unheard of. Word of mouth has been shown to be more effective in advertising than traditional ads, after all. Plus, I suspect the whole shebang still ended up a lot cheaper than an ordinary marketing campaign.
But here's the thing: it's an old gimmick, but a good one, and an easy nine out of ten for execution (would have been ten if it weren't for the big, brash, American presentation in the auditorium, ten and a half if we'd been able to try it on the City Course). Plus, it really is a good car they're plugging.
So what the hell - they deserve it, so I'll happily plug their car. I enjoyed myself immensely, and I genuinely liked the Insignia a great deal. If you have £23k to spare, buy one. If you have £30k to spare, buy the top-end one and laugh at the people who bought Beemers for twice that. (If you've got a lot more than £30k, obviously, get the lovely, lovely new Lotus, because it really is gorgeous, but if you've got that sort of cash you can get me an Insignia while you're at it.)