Bangernomics
Editor Danny goes very, very large for very, very little
Can you go bigger, cheaper? Danny bags himself an Espace MKIII.
If my Saab 9-5 is the cheapest way to go faster than anything else on the road, then this purchase has to be the cheapest way to go larger. Or maybe it isn’t. I gave £600 for it, and it came with a whole year’s MOT, but I have discovered why so many of these big French diesels are being binned… or have been binned already. More of that in a second.
First the fun stuff. I bought it from an old mate who lives in Bishop’s Stortford. Adrian had owned it since September 30, 2000 – 20 years ago almost to the day I picked it up, so it has a solid history and an emotional one as well. Adrian was the third owner and had used it for long trips, holidays and to pick up white goods without paying any delivery charges. A super comfy luxo bus/van.
Nifty. Useful.
With the kids having now flown the nest it was time for Adrian to move the family luxo bus on… so he called me. Having enjoyed a petrol automatic last year for holiday purposes, I was enthusiastic to sample another variant of MKIII (I think they are the best looking MPV ever made) and, as a top spec diesel manual, this was particularly exotic and exciting. Those alloys are the giveaway as to specification… they look like cheap plastic wheel trims, but are in fact very expensive alloy wheels. The bizarre looking ‘clams’ actually signify the status of the car, being used for top of the range MKIIIS for three years only between 1997 and 2000. I love ’em in all their crazy Frenchness.
My recently acquired Renault perversion has seen me gather some expertise and get to know a small but dedicated band of ‘Renaultistas’, chief of whom is the very excellent Paul Cunningham. His Worthing workshop is one of the few places that know the ins
and outs of classic Renaults and, to be honest, without him I’m not sure so many of us would feel confident in owning and running such boldly insane machinery.
I told him I had a new toy and his immediate question was ‘when was the cambelt last done.’ 2007 said the paperwork. ‘It needs a new cambelt and water pump,’ I confirmed by telephone. And here’s the thing… it is a huge job and one that is easy to get wrong, with catastrophic consequences. With materials it will cost more than I paid for the car. Paul was candid: ‘Many people are told to just drive it until the belt snaps, then break it for parts.’ No wonder there are so few left.
I can’t do that. Partly because Adrian loved this thing and partly because, mechanically it has at least another 100k left in it. It still looks smart and the bodywork is straight. There’s nothing here not to merit an extension of life. So, in a moment of financial foolishness, I bit the bullet. It will be useful, frugal and fun… it’s got two sunroofs and a remote control for the stereo for heaven’s sake.
Plus, it’s the last real Matra, it has GRP upper body panels, those captain’s chairs, the flexible seat plan, the comfort of those amazing seven seats, the blinds, the hidden pockets and cubby holes, the huge chiller cabinet in the middle of the dashboard... that dashboard, in fact, is bonkers, the mad alloys, the louvred wing mirrors, the twin moveable roof bars that look like an aerodynamic attribute rather than a functional neccessity and the fact that, when you drive it, it feels a bit like you are pilotting a hovercraft. OK, until I head to Paul’s, there’s a small part of me that is waiting for the cambelt to snap every time I use it, but if the bus can make it to early December, I’ll be safe. In the meantime, hello big comfy French thing. I have many useful jobs for you to do.