COMPARATIVE TEST (1)

Four months ago, my wife traded in her Renault Duster for a Honda BR-V and I was asked to ensure I read your comparative test between the Toyota Rush, Duster, BR-V and Haval H2.

As usual, I started reading the magazine from the back and got to your article regarding the VW Kombi. As we were seven kids with mom and dad, we could t only into a Kombi. My dad bought a new 1972 mustard-coloured model. I purchased this Kombi from his estate when he passed away in 1986 and drove it for another two years, which means it was a part of my life for more than 15 years.

I can still remember driving from Cape Town to Pretoria and sleeping over next to the road in Beaufort West; sitting on the cooler box which tted between the two front seats; my brother getting caught when he and friends took it for a joy ride; my other brother’s ashen face after he drove the Kombi through the garage door; phoning my friend’s dad at VW Stellenbosch to have the car xed after one of my DIY attempts had failed; and having the re brigade arrive during another such DIY attempt.

But back to the comparative test. I do not understand why Toyota would have a Rush, RAV4, Prado and various Land Cruisers in its SUV range. Is one or two not enough? The writer spoke about the “good deal of metal to crosswinds can make it feel a bit unstable when caught in a gust”. (You had to feel the Kombi in the Cape Southeaster or a wind gust in the Karoo.)

To me, it feels as if the BR-V was designed for the taxi market, with cupholders at each seat and the air-con extended to the rear occupants. A problem with the Honda is you cannot t a towbar, so what is the use of the third row of seats that will have to house the Venter’s load when going on holiday? I think the Avanza is in the same boat, as it is mainly used as a taxi in South Africa.

This week, my son asked me which cars I owned in the past and I could not remember them all. Will new cars create the same memories as our old Kombi? EWOUD SPREEUWENBERG Pretoria [Great memories here, Ewoud. I fondly remember sprawling on the rear bench of our Caravelle as we drove through the Karoo on the way to Stilbaai. My dad, however, never warmed to the bus and soon traded it in for a double cab – acting editor.]