Operation: Gingermobile - Manual or Automatic?

The search for the Gingermobile continues...

Looking online and on eBay for likely candidates, I've come up with one problem. Most of my potential Gingermobiles are American-built and a huge percentage of them are automatic. Does this present a problem?

Quite frankly, yes. Part of the appeal of a big, powerful car is the level of control you have with a four or five-speed manual gearshift. My old Gingermobile - the same car Adventure Eddy drives - had a five-speed transmission that made it a thrill to drive.

Most America cars, though, have automatic transmissions - including, would you believe, beasts like the General Lee. The irony of a so-called 'race car' with a three-speed A727 Torqueflites transmission is not lost on me...

In England, I had nothing but scorn for people who only drove automatics - but the two Lincolns I've owned stateside have actually softened my opinion on auto transmissions.

Most American automatics (of the vintage I'd consider) have column-shifts. These are the great, big levers on the steering column that you have to wrench into 'drive' or 'park'. There's something inordinately satisfying about column shifts. To some extent, they compensate for the emasculated sensation of driving an automatic car.

Secondly, most potential Gingermobiles have big, torquey American engines. The experience of driving a five-litre V8 with an auto-box is much different to driving a tinny 2.0 with an automatic transmission.

An automatic Toyota Corolla, for example, drives like a dodgem car. There are four or five gears in the automatic transmission and on the road, it shifts between them with a series of clumsy, clunky whines.

My Lincoln, on the other hand, has a wonderfully unsophisticated three-speed auto-box. Because the 302 cubic-inch V8 delivers so much power at low revs, you don't need to have any more than three gears to get a good control of the engine. The Lincoln coasts silently and, when you need it to, you can slam your foot down to 'clunk' down a gear and off the car roars like a torpedo.

With the elevated driving position and springy suspension, the big American 'land yachts' are actually inordinately fun to drive.

So I've decided that an automatic transmission isn't a Gingermobile deal breaker - but I'd certainly prefer a stick-shift. A clutch, a gearstick and a winding road combine to make a truly delicious driving sensation and that's exactly what I'm looking for in a Gingermobile.

Bond liked fast cars and he liked driving them. Most American cars bored him. They lacked personality and the patina of individual craftsmanship that European cars have.

They were just 'vehicles', similar in shape and in colour, and even in the tone of their horns. Designed to serve for a year and then be turned in in part exchange for the next year's model.

All the fun of driving had been taken out of them with the abolition of a gear-change, with hydraulic-assisted steering and spongy suspension. All effort had been smoothed away and all of that close contact with the machine and the road that extracts skill and nerve from the European driver.

To Bond, American cars were just beetle-shaped Dodgems in which you motored along with one hand on the wheel, the radio full on, and the power-operated windows closed to keep out the draughts.

But Leiter had got hold of an old Cord, one of the few American cars with a personality, and it cheered Bond to climb into the low-hung saloon, to hear the solid bite of the gears and the masculine tone of the wide exhaust. Fifteen years old, he reflected, yet still one of the most modern-looking cars in the world.

Ian Fleming, Live and Let Die

More on the Gingermobile...

As you might remember, I've been seriously considering what my next 'Gingermobile' will be.

The cars of literary heroes James Bond and Simon Templar helped me define some of the essential characteristics of a Gingermobile, but there's another important influence to consider.

When it comes to the soul of the Gingermobile, you have to look down south - to the fictional county of Hazzard, Georgia, and a '69 Dodge Charger that two boys used to run moonshine across the territory in.


The General Lee.

When you get down to brass tacks, the General Lee represents everything required in a Gingermobile. It's a massive great beast of a car, born of NASCAR heritage and with some of the finest lines ever seen emerging from Detroit.

The original General Lee was a 1969 Dodge Charger, painted in Corvette Flame Red with a 383 cubic inch V8 mounted to a three speed A727 Torqueflites automatic transmission. The car rolled on 14X7 inch American Racing brand "Vectors" wheels and B.F.Goodrich racing tyres. With the doors welded shut for stability, a full roll-cage installed inside and front 'push bars' added, it was a serious tank.

I wrote earlier that my next Gingermobile will have to fit the specifications of Bond and Templar's cars - fast, big and luxurious. The Dodge Charger fits all three of those, although the General Lee itself wasn't so 'luxurious' - as befits a racing car, the luxuries were pared down to the essentials.

The General Lee, however, reiterates two points about Simon Templar and James Bond's cars that I missed. Although not nearly to the same extent as the Duke boy's chariot, both Simon's Hirondel and Bond's Bentley were heavily modified and unique.


Simon Templar was forever taking his cream and red Hirondel to the factory for additional modification, while Bond's Bentley's were 'mildly' modified (by the addition of an Arnott supercharger and coat of matt, battleship grey paint) or heavily modified (with a custom-built, two seater convertible body that Bond boasts is 'really convertible') depending on the book.

Taking all of this into account, it seems obvious now that in addition to being big, fast and luxurious, my Gingermobile will have to be uniquely modified. That's what makes it a 'mobile' rather than just a car.

Also, like The Saint's car and Bond's Bentley, the General Lee was perfectly suited for high octane adventure. It was fast and tough, with a big boot (for running moonshine) and comfortable seating for four or five people (with bench seats up front.)

What's more, there was something rough and ready about it. I used to love climbing in and out of the windows of Tiffany III. My new Gingermobile will also have to have 'fenestral-entry' and two doors, to make sure it's obviously 'sporty.'

So, thanks to the General Lee, my list of Gingermobile requirements stands at:

1. Fast
2. Big
3. Luxurious
4. Tough
5. 'Rough and Ready'
6. Two-door with a big boot
7. You can climb in and out of the windows.

The General Lee's Car Alarm

Yes, that is a '69 Dodge Charger, just like the General Lee from the Dukes of Hazzard.

No, I don't know why there's a pack of German Shepherds on the bonnet.

Presumably, though, they'll discourage car theft. Or those pikeys with squeegies trying to clean your windscreen at the traffic lights.

Dukes of Hazzard: The Beginning

The 2005 reinvention of The Dukes of Hazzard fared reasonably well at the box office, but failed to set critics and fans alight. Richard Roeper called it 'the worst film of 2005' and Roger Ebert called it a 'lame brained, outdated wheeze.'

I thought it was a lot of fun, but what does my opinion matter? Unlike Ebert and Roeper, I actually have to pay for my cinema tickets.

Modest the profits may have been, but The Dukes of Hazzard did return on Warner Brother's investment, so in order to milk their cash cow further, they put together a Direct-To-DVD prequel called Dukes of Hazzard: The Beginning.

With a budget of only $5 million (less than 10% of the original film's budget) it wasn't possible to bring back the movie's original stars, American Pie veteran Seann William Scott or Jackass jackass Johnny Knoxville. Willie Nelson did sign up for another run as Uncle Jesse, but when he's hard pressed for a buck, he'll do anything. (In 1992, he released the album "The IRS Tapes" specifically to settle his money problems with the Inland Revenue Service.)

The result is a pretty great pop-corn movie, with a fairly generic storyline but a great script. Some of the one liners and gags are hilarious - writer Shane Morris should be working for the Scary Movie team - and the car chases, gratuitous nudity and funny scenes with pigs are enough to satisfy most people's craving for Southern Fried silliness.

This time around Bo and Luke Duke are played by relative newcomers Jonathan Bennett and Randy Wayne. Bo is the handsome blond one, who likes to drive way to fast. Luke is the surly womaniser, who likes to 'blow shit up.'

Jonathan Bennett is actually quite good as Bos and has sharp comic timing. Randy Wayne's Luke is pretty much just ballast in the passenger seat of the General Lee.

And instead of Jessica Simpson, who filled her Daisy Dukes very convincingly in the original movie, the role of the Duke's beautiful cousin is played by April Scott. She's a very, very pretty girl, but looks like she weighs about 85lbs when soaking wet and simply doesn't have the curves (or the chutzpah) to pull off the role of the roughest, toughest gal in Georgia.

But the cast does their job. Joel Moore, as mechanic Cooter, deserves a special mention for his crazy antics and one-liners. Second rate comic Harland Williams steals every scene he's in by clutching an adorable puppy under his arm (maybe Randy Wayne should have tried that.) Nineties sex-idol Sherilyn Fenn has a cameo as Boss Hogg's frustrated wife and looks very good doing it. When Randy Wayne rejects her advances, you have to wonder if his version of Luke Duke has gone all Brokeback Mountain on us.

Highlights include assembling the General Lee (this time around, only the driver's side door is welded shut, purely as a plot device to enable the Duke boys to bundle Boss Hogg into the back of their car) and a scene with the Boss' prize pig balancing on a rooftop. Low spots involve every scene in which Randy Wayne opens his mouth and the final amazing 'jump' by the General Lee, which is very clearly computer edited.

Back in my day, they used to make the crazy jumps like that for real.

Dukes of Hazzard: The Beginning is available from Blockbuster and most DVD shops.

Little Known Fact...

I've always been one for naming my cars. My first car, a beautiful red Triumph TR7, I called 'Tiffany.'

My other big, red car - a Pontiac Firebird - was called Tiffany II. Hardly original.


Actually, there's a long and sordid history behind naming cars. One of the first was Traveler [sic], a '58 Chrylser 300D which was used by real-life Moonshine runner Jerry Rushing, whose exploits later inspired The Dukes of Hazzard and Smokey and the Bandit.


The real Traveller (Rushing misspelled his car's name) was actually General Lee's horse during the American Civil War. This beast was apparently one of the fastest horses in the world - and General Lee was buried next to his beloved mount when he was laid to rest.

Traveler was a worthy name indeed, then, for a mighty steel steed that could get up to 140mph with a trunk full of shine!

Jerry Rushing's biography inspired the 1974 movie Moonrunners and the hit TV classic The Dukes of Hazzard, both of which shared several characters and plot devices. Instead of Traveler, however, the Duke boys drove in a souped-up '69 Dodge Charger called the General Lee.


A car nearly as famous as The General was the '77 Pontiac Trans Am driven by Burt Reynolds in the awesome movie Smokey and the Bandit. Not many people know that this brutal muscle car was actually christened 'Trigger' in the second movie, after Roy Roger's trusted steed.


In the 1980 sequel, therefore, co-star Jerry Reed christens the replacement Trans Am 'Son of Trigger' although while evading Sheriff Justice's 'howd purswud' Burt Reynolds pats the dashboard and murmers the original name: "Come on, Trigger."


And the third Bandit car? Well, there's no Burt Reynolds this time around, but Jerry Reed (disguised as The Bandit) does refer to it as the "Banditmobile."


Not quite as catchy, is it?

One thing's for sure. Old cars have a lot more character than the generic boxes churned out in Japan and Korea. Giving an old muscle car or a vintage sportster a name seems to make sense. Call a Hyundai anything other than 'a car' and it seems somewhat unseamly.