Tonight: Noble’s difficult third album comes to our track. The art of being a white-van man. And the Suzuki Liana is back with some bloke called Jenson Button.
After Clarkson’s exciting intro, we see the lads in the studio, standing in front of vans, except for Clarkson, who is wandering. Top Gear Dog is sacked out. Clarkson: Hello and welcome; we start tonight with a question. How many vans do you suppose were sold in Britain last year? Hammond (eagerly interrupting): 322 000. I’m sorry. Clarkson: You really are an irritating little man. Yes. that’s twice as many as the best-selling car. Which means there are an awful lot of van drivers out there.
Because they never cover the subject on the show, their producers said that they had to do a van test, and arranged a practical exam for them: roadies for one of the bands at Hyde Park’s summer music festival. May: Yeah. Now, obviously, before we could do this, we each had to choose a van. Now, to be honest, I know nothing about vans and so I chose this–it’s a Renault Master (And boy, is it a huge thing.) He liked two things about it: first, that it’s extremely large, and second, the styling. He finds it quite chic. Clarkson hoots that down. May defends himself: Yeah, but it is a very very good looking van. Clarkson: It’s as good-looking as a plumber’s butt-crack, James! Hammond, impatient to discuss his choice, interrupts: Whatever! I know nothing about vans, either, so I chose a Ford Transit. For 41 years, it’s been the king of vans, and now, there’s this new one! Which is better! In lots of important and I’m sure very interesting ways! Clarkson leaves Hammond to his enthused ignorance, and tells us that he knows less about vans than the other two combined: So I chose this–it’s a Volkswagen…uh…(searching for clues on the model to an accompaniment of laughter) T30 174 TDI Sportline. Now, it’s not the biggest van in the world, and it is quite expensive, but it does 120 mph. Hammond: So basically, you just went with the fastest. Clarkson: This is the fastest van in Britain, this is, and I thought it might be important in some way.
So they’ve selected their vans, and they’re anxious to be roadies with them. Clarkson and Hammond make it to Hyde Park on time and quickly discover the enormity of the task ahead. They were to be roadies for one of the biggest rock bands in history: The Who!
Clarkson narrates: Well, when I say “we” I mean Richard and me, because James has found something better to do than to hang around backstage with the greatest rock and roll band in the world. Hammond: Yep, he actually phoned in to say he was unwell (waves a flier at the camera) but if you look closely at this poster, you’ll see what he’s actually doing is he’s in Reigate, hosting the Surrey Motor Show. Still, he’ll doubtless turn up later on, after all the hard work is done.
Clarkson: First we found out what we’d be taking to the next gig, 90 minutes away on the south coast. I’d be in charge of something worryingly precious: Pete Townshend’s guitars. Townshend apparently travels with about 70 of the things, each worth about 3 000 pounds. Hammond, on the other hand, had just one instrument to worry about. We see Hammond seated at the drum kit, drumming a few beats before calling out, “Hello, Hyde Park!” There’s absolutely no one near the stage who isn’t working. In voice over: the 12 000 pound kit belonged to Zac Starkey, who, unlike his father, is a drummer. Ow! damn, man! Hammond asks a fellow what would happen if he breaks something, like a drum skin. The fellow nicely, if a little ominously says: Don’t do it. No.
The Who travel with about a thousand flight cases of equipment, but the Top Gear vans could handle the weight and bulk of about nine. Therefore, Clarkson went to talk to Townshend about cutting back on the quantity of his guitars. He found Townshend in a trailer, overseeing “In The Attic”, his new livecast web music show. Clarkson relates the difficult reality of space in the van vs number of guitars and asks him to shed some guitars. Townshend: Right. (Pause) I could get you a really good job with the Arctic Monkeys, and they’re only twelve and a half, so they won’t smack you in the face with a microphone stand like I’m about to do now. I need all my gear at that gig. I need it all. Now, to me, this is an excessive response, even to Clarkson. How is it possible that one guitarist needs 70 for a couple hours’ show? But he is Pete Townshend, who can probably dictate any amount of gear he wants. Clarkson leaves face-mashing Pete in order to corner Roger Daltrey, who “had no interest in the smallness of my van. He just wanted to explain the best way of throwing a television into a swimming pool.” Daltrey explains that the challenge is to keep it working until it hits the water, which is apparently quite a technical subject. Top Gear fans will doubtless remember that Daltrey was a Star in the Reasonably-Priced Liana, ranking 17th place out of 60 at 1.49.6.
Clarkson tells us that Roger kindly lent him one of his tellys and Pete kindly organized some enormous trucks to carry the stuff they’d have to leave behind. Then just before kickoff, the headliner of the Surrey Motor Show showed up. (May makes a small entrance, greeting a couple of fans.) Clarkson: I’m guessing now, but I bet he probably left behind a smaller crowd than this (the camera pans an enormous, excited crowd.) Our three guest roadies stand off stage in matching black crew t shirts with their credentials around their necks. Hammond enlightens his collegue about the coming events: So, James, you know what happens? In about two hours, all that lot off there, into our vans, and we’ve got to drive 90 miles. Clarkson puts in his two cents: Yeah, and you cannot get lost. This is a real concern for Captain Slow. Clarkson in voiceover: As the show reached its conclusion, I fervently hoped The Who would smash up all their equipment like they used to. But they didn’t. Hammond continues the voiceover: So as the crowd went home, we put the Top Gear pianist in charge of keyboards and got to work. (There are shots of rather inept roadie-ing.) Happily, because our vans were so small, loading them up didn’t take long. We see Clarkson watching efficient roadies load his van, as he claims “a dicky back.” A fellow who I take to be the head roadie tells them: 9:00 in the morning. Don’t be late and don’t get clamped again. Darn the BBCA edits! Apparently Clarkson ran into some trouble with the parking police. They head off into the dark night, May exclaiming: Goodbye London!
Hammond goes on about his van’s cargo capacity and is overall quite pleased, especially with the 18 600 pound price tag, which makes it the cheapest of the three. Clarkson: So was James focusing on the important stuff, payload; fuel economy? May: I’ve got air-conditioning, I’ve got a semi-automatic gearbox, I’ve got a CD player, sat-nav…it just goes on and on and on. In voiceover: Predictably, Jeremy got sidetracked by the speed of his van. Clarkson enthuses: Does naught to 60 in 11 and a bit seconds. You hit 70 in third! In voiceover: Bizarrely, none of this seemed to impress James. May thinks his van is quicker, and Hammond wonders how he’s going to back that up. Although May’s top speed is much lower than Clarkson’s, he thinks that mid-range, his van is pretty potent. Clarkson challenges May to a showdown. Hammond is wary. Clarkson jumps in front and stays there, predictably. After being chided by Clarkson, May yawns loudly.
Clarkson in voiceover: because the other two didn’t have speed to keep them going, we pulled over for a cup of tea. In the restaurant, Clarkson says he feels like a roadie. Conversation turns to discussing how confident they each feel leaving their cargo unattended. Hammond is not fazed in the least because his van is loaded with all sorts of security systems and alarms, and May has a complicated Renault Anti-Intruder Device with deadlocks (he makes a locking sound). Hammond to Clarkson: So. What about yours? Clarkson: (silent) I might…I might go and have my tea…yeah, because there’s 70 000 pounds of guitars….I’m going to be out there, if you want me. He exits the restaurant in a hurry.
Clarkson in voiceover: At a quarter til dawn, we made it to the next venue, locked up the vans, and with our work done, headed back to the party at the hotel. Sadly, though, it seems that the world of rock and roll has moved on. There were no groupies; the only drug on offer was cocoa, and there was no swimming pool into which I could throw Roger’s televison. So we went to bed. Clarkson is at last a roadie, but apparently forty years too late for his taste for adventure.
Clarkson continues: The next morning we met to reach a verdict. But that’s hard when you haven’t been paying attention. The conclusions that the lads reach: the VW was the fastest, the Renault the biggest, and the Ford the cheapest. Then there’s silence. All three look tired and even Hammond’s legendary enthusiasm is lagging. Good thing there wasn’t a party the prior night or these fellows would be half dead. May blinks, trying to stay awake, as Clarkson struggles to conclude: It depends on what you want from a van. Hammond: The good news is that there are as many vans out there as there are things you want to do with them. They advise buying the cheapest of the kind you want then ringing round to dealerships for the best price.
In the studio, the audience applauds as the three hosts study either the concrete floor or Top Gear Dog, who is inert. Clarkson: When we brought that film back to the office and our producer saw it, he was very angry with us and he said that was the worst conclusion in the history of television. Hammond: Yeah, may have had a point. May: In fact, he dreampt up a bit of a punishment for us which we’ll show you later. Clarkson: We will, but now–this. (He waves a sheet of paper.) It’s a letter from a young man called Jenson, who lives in Monte Carlo. ‘Dear Top Gear, My car is always breaking down. Please, please, please could you fix it for me to drive something more reliable around your track?’ How could we possibly say no? Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Jenson Button!
They sit behind Button’s F1 car. Clarkson knows why he’s not winning–it’s the maybe two inch windshield at fault. And another question: why isn’t Button winning any races? Button: we’re not quick enough. Clarkson insists it’s the fault of the windscreen, and asks if he’d trade the money and the Monte Carlo livestyle and everything else for that first win. Button replies simply and sincerely: 100%. There’s a brief debate in which Button says he’d like to tell his grandkids one day that he was the best in the world at something and that would mean more to the kids than the money, and Clarkson firmly disagrees, but eventually gets back on track, so to speak: Of course, we know exactly why you’re here. Money. It turns out that Clarkson led Button into making a bet for 20 pounds that Button could come to the show and hit the track faster than the Stig. Button can’t remember saying this at all. Clarkson: You were quite drunk. Button: But I wasn’t drinking. They each put down 20 pounds anyway, and because the other race drivers went around in the Liana, Button must as well to keep the playing field level. Button: Can I just say…it was really hot today. (Audience laughs) And I had to have the air conditioning on in the car, and it normally–you probably lose about three of the five horsepower the car has. In the film, Clarkson enthuses that all F1 drivers take the same line and the Stig doesn’t. Button: Obviously, he’s not an F1 driver, is he? Cagily, Clarkson: Maybe. Button has trouble with a gear shift and goes wide through Gambon. The pen has stopped working from the heat, but eventually we learn tht the time was 1.44.7, 0.3 seconds behind the Stig and Nigel Mansell for third place.
May announces that there is no news segment this week as it is summer and everybody is on holiday. There usually isn’t news in the BBCA version anyway. Darn edits! What they’ve got instead is a new Rolls Royce; the 101 EX prototype. It’s got the same 450 bhp 6 3/4 V12 engine as the Phantom, but the body is lighter due to the extensive use of carbon fiber, and has a brushed aluminum hood. It’s also shorter and lower than the Phantom and has two doors which are hinged on the right side, so you enter easily from the left, a lovely retro touch. Hammond pokes his head in: Inside, it’s the usual blend of dead animals and rainforest, but with a twist. May: Oh, yes, if you look up at the ceiling, you will see that it’s like the Milky Way. (Hammond flicks a dimmer switch that illuminates a few hundred small lights) In fact, riding in the back of this car is a bit like lying in a field in Cornwall in the middle of a very clear night. Hammond is geeking just looking at it; (softly): It really is a fabulous thing. May concurs: It’s amazing, and if I was having one, I think I would have the Great Bear (constellation.) Hammond: Yeah, you can even vary the brightness of the constellations–look (and plays with the dimmer.) Clarkson (bellowing): That is disgusting! Hammond: Oh, dear, I fear Jeremy may be headed this way with an opinion. Clarkson bursts onto the scene and enumerates all that is wrong: No, no, honestly, you can have one of those pinprick light things, ok, on the roof of a limo on a hen night. You cannot have one, ok, in a Rolls Royce, and you can’t have seven-spoke alloys, and you can’t have red brake calipers and you can’t have carbon fiber, and look at that. A glass “Spirit of Ecstacy” (the signature hood ornament) with a light bulb up its bottom. May defends it: Jeremy, that, that is brilliant. Clarkson brutally rebuts: No, the Phantom is brilliant, ok; this thing, if they ever put it into production, and if it has all this stuff on it, will have to be called the ‘Rolls Royce Vulgar-sonic.’ May (rebuffed): Well, you’d know. Hammond (in support, offering examples): Exactly. When it comes to vulgar. The other day, we all went to a screening of a new film, “Cars”. I don’t know if you’ve seen it. We walked in and HE said, ‘Yeah, this is a lot like my cinema at home!’ Clarkson: I just had a really good idea. Why don’t you shut up! And why don’t you tell all the ladies and gentlemen with your Tipp-ex teeth about the car you’ve been driving and I haven’t? Hammond jumps all over this: Oh, yes! I’ve been driving the latest offering from one of our very favorite car makers.
There’s a shot of a yellow Noble. Hammond in voiceover: Noble: when they first came along seven years ago, our first thought was–oh dear, here we go again. Another small British sports car firm that’s going to disappoint its bank manager. But their first two cars, the M10 (the yellow one we’ve been watching) and the M12 (a silver example shown here) were absolutely superb. And now here comes the difficult third album. (We’re treated to car porn of a lovely blue M15. ) And unusually for these small manufacturers, new doesn’t mean reheated leftovers. It’s got a new interior. A new body. A new chassis. This really is brand new. It’s still got ‘Noble’ written all over it. It’s low, it’s mid-engined, and it’s fast. I can tell I’m really hammering it, because the rev needle turns from blue to red. (We see the blue needle indeed blink to red at the top of the revs.) This is the most powerful Noble ever, with 450 bhp from the twin turbo V6. 0-60, 3.9 seconds. Top speed: 196. You get more of everything, but then, it costs more money. 75 000 pounds, which means the M15, designed in a shed in Leicester, is going head-to-head with the mighty Porsche 911. Basically, Noble has got ambitions. And when small car companies get ambitious, that’s usually a big worry. (Shot of the car drifting round a corner.) It’s easy for a small car company to build a hard-core track day car: just get a big engine and some scaffolding.
He continues the praise: But it’s much harder to build one you can live with every day, rain, shine, or snow. Nevertheless, Noble has stepped out onto the tightrope, and I’m happy to report they haven’t fallen off. The handling is absolutely superb. Turn and it just grips and grips and grips, and then there’s a tiny bit of understeer to tell you that you’re being a bit of a spanner, and it just keeps on gripping. But that’s not to say this is boring: oh, no! Not by any means. When you really want to have fun you can have any amount of it. If I was in a TVR now, the indicators would be on the ceiling, the switches would be made of kryptonite, and the doors would open inwards on a dodecahedral hinge. But no, if I pull up in a Noble, (and he does) the door is just a door that opens somewhat doorishly. Everything is where it should be and how it should be. And by biting off only what they can chew, Noble have made a car that is quite simply brilliant.
Back in the studio, Clarkson: That is one hell of a car, and I have to say it’s just a shame I didn’t drive it. Hammond: You didn’t. And you’re not gonna now either because it’s time to put it in the hands of our tame racing driver. Some say that his first name really is “The” and that if he went on Celebrity Love Island, they’d all be pregnant, including the cameramen. All we know is he’s called the Stig.
The Stig is learning some conversational Greek. The tail’s wide in Chicago, and he whips briefly onto the grass after Gambon. He finishes in 1.22.5, placing it ahead of the Ferrari 430. Well done, Noble!
Back in the studio, Hammond: Earlier in the show, we road-tested three vans and proved we know nothing about them. So the producers came up with a plan. They said that the only way to learn about vans is to actually go out, buy one, and run it. Clarkson: Yeah. So they gave each of us 1 000 pounds, told us to buy a van, sign-write the side with our company name, and then report to the Top Gear test track for a number of challenges.
Cut to the track Clarkson: Because I know so little about vans, I did what Hammond had done in the earlier test: played it safe and bought myself a Ford Transit for 800 pounds…James had stuck to his theory of ‘biggest is best’ and bought a huge LDV box van. …James was more bothered by my signwriting. (Clarkson’s got “Top Gear Furriers” instead of “Top Gear Couriers”) May lets Clarkson in his van by way of the folding, lever operated bus-style left doors. Clarkson laughs as he enters: God, that is a ’stuperb’ (sic) thing! It’s brilliant and cost 950 pounds. Hammond eventually pulls up in a very small dark blue van. Clarkson inquires: did you like wash it on too hot a setting? Hammond is undaunted, rolls up his window to display the full lettering of the Top Gear name, and introduces it to the others as a Suzuki Supercarry. The others crack up. It has nearly a 900 cc engine and goes from 0-60 in eighteen, nineteen seconds. You could drive Hammond’s van into the back of May’s.
Clarkson reads off the first challenge: We start with something with which you should be familiar, a quarter-mile drag race. Who’s got the fastest van? Hammond is pleased and confident that his van will win this easily. May is less pleased and wants to know what that actually has to do with anything. Clarkson taunts him: You’re going to come in last. In voiceover, he tells us that actually, there was a point; that self-employed van drivers can’t afford to waste time with a tool that isn’t quick enough. They’re lined up at the start, and they’re off. The cameraman is quite obviously used to faster starts, as he pans far ahead of the actual vans and has to hurry back to catch the “action.” Hammond gets off in a squeal of tires and gloats: I’m just leaving them for dead. May’s got his foot down, mouth hanging open, eyes squinched at the noise from the engine. Clarkson is yelling Come on!, making faces, and bouncing up and down on his seat. Hammond is across the finish in first, Clarkson, nodding in satisfaction, achieves a respectable second, and, several days later, May lumbers across in third.
Challenge number two is read out by Hammond: A good driver must be able to load his van as quickly and efficiently as possible. You must now fill your vehicles with a selection of cargo and deliver it safely to the drop-off, racing each other. May brightens: I hope its a really big pile of stuff. Clarkson mourns: I don’t like manual labor. Hammond is much less happy-looking about this challenge. May: Our cargo included all the bits and bobs a man in a van might be expected to carry. This ranges from vases, lamps, expensively price-tagged paintings and matresses to illegal immigrants. In voiceover, Clarkson notes: Richard really did have a size problem and his van was pretty small as well. Hammond: James was having problems with his illegal immigrant, so he decided to employ him. Meanwhile, Jeremy was being as practical as ever (cut to Clarkson tossing things into the van, listening to the sounds of breakage. Hammond puts a sharp edge through his painting, and May just chucks stuff in his van.)
May is first out, but Clarkson pulls up right behind him to hinder his unloading. May pulls up a few yards. Clarkson breaks the remainder of his load taking it out and finishes first. May finishes second as Hammond wallows up, the three mattresses tied to the sides and roof of the van, a lampshade on his head. Clarkson cracks up at the sight.
Clarkson reads the third challenge: Possibly the most important skill a van driver must have is the ability to sit right on the tail of the car in front. So each of you must now drive up the runway and get as close as possible to the bumper of a lane-hogger in front without touching. The closer you get, the more points you get.
Hammond goes first, substantially assisted in the task by the flat front of the van. The gap is measured by a special laser mounted on the back of the car. May reads out: He’s 31.9mm away, which is a vast, yawning chasm. Clarkson calls out: You could park a bus in that gap, Hammond! Hammond retaliates with a final distance of 10.34 mm. Clarkson is next, and has trouble seeing his bumper over the hood. He sticks his torso out the window for a better look and runs into the car’s bumper. He looks chagrined with his distance of -6 mm. May has bigger problems. He’s so slow that he can’t even catch up to the car so the laser can’t measure the gap.
Challenge four: Van drivers never waste their profits on vehicle maintenance so you must each change the front door of your own van. You will be racing each other. Clarkson is displeased: That is more manual labor. Can I be excused this? The producers decline this request, so whil Hammond and May set about with wrenches, Clarkson borrowed May’s van and smashes the door off its hinges, a novel approach. He tapes the red door to the white van with black tape, such that it bears a resemblance to Eddie Van Halen’s famous guitar. Hammond properly secures his door with bolts. May is left doorless as he takes too much time to finish. Hammond claims that he was too busy polishing his wrenches to complete the task. Clarkson scoffs that he named the things: This is Jeffrey, this is Ian, this is Stephen– May curtly: Get on with it.
Challenge five–there are a whole lot of challenges this time! Challenge five: Top Gear’s tame thief Ian will now attempt to break into the back doors of your vans. The longer it takes him, the more points you get. The thief doesn’t get into Hammond’s van at all while they pour abuse on his skills. It takes him 34 seconds to get into May’s van, and a hot 10 seconds for Clarkson’s.
Challenge six: It’s a game of cops and robbers round the Top Gear short circuit. You start, then 20 seconds later a police car will give chase. The person who stays in front the longest wins. Hammond: Who’s driving the police car? Clarkson: Says it’s Detective Inspector Stig, in a 1.6 L Vauxhall Astra.
Clarkson is first in the attempt. May: There goes “Fingers” Clarkson and his haul. Stig of the Yard sets off. Clarkson loses his door in a corner. Hammond: He looks such a pillock! Stig catches up near the finish. Next up: James Kray. Hammond scorns the sight of the behemoth as it sets off: What a majestic sight! May also lacks a door; he looks like a milkman. Stig catches up easily at Hammerhead. Finally, Hammond’s up and hops across the start. Clarkson (amused): it’s like a little rocket. Hammond is so excited about the possibility of winning the challenge that he overturns his van on the first corner. Oopsie! The Stig is off; Hammond staggers out, and Clarkson gloats: He’s lost.
In the studio, they’ve set up a big white board on which to tally points.
Task: 1 2 3 4 5 6
C: 2 3 1 -1/2 2 3 =10.5
H: 3 1 3 9 3 1 =20
M: 1 2 2 – 4 million 0 2 =3 999 993
May: what, I lose four million points for NOT tailgating?
The audience votes that Clarkson can’t win the door challenge even though he finshed first as the door didn’t open until it fell off. Clarkson says he’s not sore about it but he is. Hammond protests his one point for the chase, saying he could have been killed. May, dismissively: So? You’d have still lost.
There’s one final challenge: “Man with a Van” ads. Each response gets one point. May’s ad reads, “Man with a van, LDV Convoy with fully functioning automatic door system. Driven by steady, sensitive, classically-trained pianist.” As you might expect, responses: 0. Hammond’s ad: “Driver with van, surprisingly spacious, would suit anyone who lives up very narrow streets. Speedy delivery guaranteed thanks to F1-style midengine layout.” Replies: 1. Clarkson’s ad: “Man with van. Classic Ford Transit. Well ventilated. Willing driver, slightly bad back.” Also as you might expect, replies: 0.
Hammond gloats, making an ‘L’ on his forehead with thumb and finger. Mr Mature. Clarkson finds a bright side: And the really good thing is that this means all future van tests will be done by you! Hammond: I don’t want to. Clarkson, ruthlessly: Yeah, but I’m going to do the supercars from now–although that is a way off because this is the last program of the series. (audience makes disappointed aws.) Sorry ’bout that but we will see you again in the autumn. Thank you for watching and good night!
For a look at the making of a Rolls Royce, check out “How It’s Made” on the Science Channel, http://science.discovery.com/fansites/howitsmade/episode/episode_03.html.
