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MG ZR ZS ZT Technical - Mr Clarkson Likes the ZS!!!!!

Reading the Sunday Times, and Clarksons car page. He talks about getting his son home in time foe a birthday party. At the end his says:-

"Oh the car?" "Its a MG ZS, its bloody good you should try one".

He dos say if its the V6 but i think so.
Mega
Mega

It'd be bloody difficult to be anything but a V6; both the 2.0 and 2.5 are V6's! Anyway, who read the Sunday times to you?
Yorkie

I beg to differ, he did say a ZS which would come with 4-cylinder's too!

Gareth
Gareth Kidman

He mentions the huge spoiler, so its the 180!!

Kelvin
Kelvin

In an article earlier in the week he said he had a 180 on trial.Mind you that was the Sun!
S Forbes


For those who don't read or buy the Sunday Times:


The Sunday Times - Motoring



July 28, 2002

Jeremy Clarkson: Please keep the motorways clear for dads on a deadline



IT WAS like something out of a schmaltzy American film. “Oh Daddy, my birthday party starts at four o’clock and you must be there. You like, soooo have to be.”
And of course she was right. I did. The trouble was that I’d be filming in Plymouth until one o’clock. And Plymouth is 217 miles from Chipping Norton. Two hundred and seventeen miles in three hours on a Saturday. It was only just doable.

As usual, one o’clock ticked by and the director still wasn’t entirely happy with the shape of the clouds, so by the time I actually left, it was 1.20pm.

And this is what the anti-speed lobby sometimes forgets. Occasionally, the speeding motorist is not a teenage drug dealer with a Big Brother haircut and a worn-out Nova. Sometimes he’s a sober, middle-aged man who has been away for two weeks and needs, desperately, to be on time for his daughter’s eighth birthday party.

To begin with, the M5 was kind, but by the time I was halfway through Devon, something terrible began to dawn on me. This was the first day of the school holidays and everyone was off to the coast.

So, what were half of them doing on my northbound carriageway? God knows. They were lost probably. It certainly seemed that way from behind, as they veered from lane to lane, and then passed the road map to Auntie in the back in the vague hope that she might be able to get them on the right track again.

Obviously, with all this going on inside the car, nobody was even remotely interested in the man behind. Only when I’d ignited every single light at my disposal, including an old lighter I found in the glove box, would the driver glance in his mirror.

And panic. First of all, he’d glance over his shoulder. Then he’d glance over it again. Then everyone else in the car would turn to reassure him that the inside lane was empty — as indeed it had been for the past 13 miles.

Then the driver would have one last look to be sure — and then another, and another. And then, just outside Taunton, the indicator would go on, signalling that at some point around Weston-super-Mare he’d be changing lanes.

Why can’t these people drive? What are they doing on the other 364 days in a year? And oh my God, what’s this one doing? Fifty-seven was the usual answer. Unless of course there was some kind of caravan in the equation, in which case it was nine.

I don’t normally bleat about the standard of driving on British motorways because on a Tuesday in March it’s pretty good. But on that Saturday, nobody eased into the outside lane; they veered. And there they stayed. Until it was time for a picnic, at the local services.

Why do people do this? This was Dartmoor so, presumably, there are lots of places to sit and enjoy your Plumrose sausages and Babybel cheeses. You don’t need to sit right next to the motorway tucking into Julie’s Pantries.

Inevitably, in Gloucestershire, with just an hour to go, the whole thing ground to a halt, so I decided to go cross-country.

Ten minutes later I was in a car park in Stroud having found myself in the world’s stupidest one-way system. I’d like to call it the Wrong and Winding Road. And I’d like to call the man who designed it a ----. In fact I did, several times.

But eventually I was free and into the beautiful Cotswolds where . . . guess what? It was the first day of the school holidays. And therefore the best weekend of the year to have a show of some kind.

Every steamroller, traction engine, vintage tractor, horsebox, gypsy caravan, normal caravan and Austin Seven had come to drive around as slowly as it’s humanly possible to go without actually stopping.

And nobody in a normal car was showing even the slightest inclination to overtake. You’d have Fred Dibner on his charabanc doing 1mph, and then a two-mile snake in his wake.

But do you know something. It may have taken 10 years off my life but I made it with one minute to spare.

Oh, and the car I was driving? A £16,640 four-door saloon. The MG ZS. You should try one. It’s bloody good.


.........................................


The price gives it a way. Bog Standard ZS180.


Mike
M P Nash

A good post-modern comment on the car review, I thought. 99% waffle and 1% 'er, I thought the car was v. nice, thank you.'
David Bainbridge

Its good that JC is giving credit where credit is due, I think a more in depth report is published elsewhere.

Kelvin
Kelvin

This thread was discussed between 28/07/2002 and 29/07/2002

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