The changing definition of luxury

Karl reckons that Narcissism has ruined luxury – or is that the tramadol talking?

Tramadol is a heck of a drug. In some people it works as intended – dulling pain and making sure the patient can cope throughout their trials. In other people, like me, it makes them violently ill, gives them a woozy head and generally whacks them off their feet.

So, how does a dose of medicinal painkiller relate to cars? It was a recent experience with said pills that made me choose between two polar opposites sitting in my driveway. On the left, a gleaming white Jaguar F-Type Coupe R. Supercharged V8, paddle shifters, rear-wheel-drive and enough torque to leave smoking black strips down the street. On the right, a diesel people mover, a dark blue Kia Carnival.

Both vehicles were delivered on a Wednesday. The pain began that afternoon. Thursday, and the pain was quite intense. By Friday night, my back had started spasms that rendered me immobile. An ambulance was called, and with some sedation, I was shifted onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. Here’s where the comparisons started. The one thing I was grateful for was that the ambulance, a converted Mercedes Sprinter, had a wonderful ride. Back pain meant that any jolting or jarring was going to be felt in a big way, drugs or not. And they really have to be the best riding cars on the planet, or those with neck or spinal injuries are going to suffer immeasurably.
After a day in hospital, you can probably guess which car I wanted to be picked up in. Sure, the Jag would have looked cool, and the car park would have been jealous, but really, it was a huge relief to see the softly-sprung, cushy-seated Carnival roll up to collect me. And on the drive home it smothered the bumps and smoothed over the rough patches in a way that the Jag couldn’t hope to.

Jaguar’s adaptive damping is brilliant and at speed its road-holding is superb. It’s a car that I adore and was really looking forward to getting behind the wheel. Not this week, though. My body had conspired to make me want the Kia and its beautiful ride instead.

Funny thing is, a perfect ride isn’t a high priority for people these days. While the Rolls-Royce Phantom is lauded as being the best riding car in the world, that’s not why people buy it. They buy it because of its quality, its personalisation and because of its name. And, truthfully, its ride isn’t perfect. It still wobbles after big hits – air suspension will do that. Think about the Merc C-Class, too. It looks brilliant on 20-inchers, but the ride is destroyed. Put it on 16-inchers and the ride is transformed, but who’s going to buy it like that?

So here’s the problem. We’re so worried about aesthetics that we don’t care how our cars feel on the road. The Land Rover Discovery 4 used to glide like a cloud on 17-inch wheels, but you can’t buy them anymore because the demand isn’t there. We don’t want a good ride anymore, we just want to look good.

Narcissism has ruined luxury. Perhaps it’s because the people opting for these huge wheels have taken a bit too much medication and aren’t thinking straight. Like I said, Tramadol is a heck of a drug.