Reversing novelty Toyota defiles Japan’s oldest toilets

Directionally confused WiLL Vi creates historic blockage

(Images above and below: Kyoto Prefectural Board of Education)

Latrines and cars don’t mix – but if a collaboration had to take place, we’d have staked good money on Japan hosting it.

Its oldest toilet is more than 700 years old; part of the Tōfuku-ji Temple complex in the former capital of Kyoto, the dawn of the automobile passed it by.
And never would the twain meet, until a WiLL Vi car belonging to an employee of Kyoto Heritage Preservation smashed through its wooden door in reverse, coming to rest inside. It reads more like a rejected anime omake B-roll, or a forgotten scene from Lupin III – The Fuma Conspiracy.

But it happened – and there were no Mazda 1800 police cars in attendance.
Our 30-year-old driver, visiting on business, selected reverse by mistake while turning around. They were uninjured; the historic bogs remained safe, too. Aware of the chaos they caused, the driver called the police, and alerted Temple staff. Does this sort of thing happen at the National Trust or Heritage England? We should be told.

The lavatory building (tosu) was one of five surviving structures from the Buddhist Temple’s early days; founded in 1236 by the Fujiwara clan (no tofu foreshadowing intended) construction in the Muromachi period (1336-1573) saw the building of its beloved toilet, meditation hall (zendo), belfry (shoro), and bath (yokushitsu). Here’s what the tosu looked like before an obscure Toyota assaulted it (the WiLL ended up in the area to the right of the pits):

Intended for the use of 100 monks while practising Zen self-discipline (though presumably not all at once) the toilet hall was nicknamed ‘hyakusecchin’ (‘hundred-person toilet’) in the annals of history – though together, that group would produce more horsepower than our hapless worker’s Will Vi managed when new. Wikipedia attests that ‘a healthy human can produce about 1.2 hp (0.89 kW) briefly’ – more than the WiLL’s 1.3-litre 2NZ-FE engine managed at 6000 rpm (88PS).

Famed for its spectacular autumnal views, the incident couldn’t have come at a worse time for the Temple, whose seasonal charms attract thousands of tourists. Toshio Ishikawa, director of Tōfuku-ji Research Institute, told the Kyoto Shimbun: “It’s the first time we’ve seen an accident of this level of destruction, but I’m glad it didn’t result in injury. We’d like to restore it before the fall [autumn] foliage season, but it’s probably the beginning of the new year.” There’s a fair bit of work to do: as the ABC TV News report shows below, the low-speed collision splintered the door, the door frame and the surrounding pillars.

If such an important monument can be rebuilt (the Temple itself was burned to ash in the 15^th century, before an extensive rebuild in the Thirties) we’re sure the WiLL Vi, which suffered nothing more than some broken nearside rear bumper lugs and scrapes in the accident, will carry on motoring. It is, after all, a Toyota. A weird looking and divisive Toyota, but a Toyota nonetheless.

Based on a first-generation Vitz (Yaris), the Japan-only WiLL Vi carried none of the car-maker’s branding; instead, it was sold as part of a collaborative marketing effort, known as WiLL, represented by an orange badge. Three WiLL cars were released between 2001 and 2005 – the Vi saloon being number one. Cars were offered with or without a full-length sliding canvas sunroof for maximum olfactory enjoyment; in the case of our toilet Toyota, the original owner did without (its 2022 custodian is doubtless grateful).

Other manufacturers selling products under the brand included Asahi Breweries, Matsushita-Panasonic, Kinki Nippon Tourist Company, Ltd and Ezaki Glico (best known in the West for its Pocky sweets).  Built for barely two years, between January 2000 and December 2001, the WiLL-Vi (and funky brochure) was meant to appeal to fashion-conscious Millennials otherwise uninterested in cars; it used wheel trims inspired by sea urchins and a dashboard (dashtop) inspired by a baguette. For reasons of expediency, it used the door mirrors from a Daihatsu Opti (L300), and indicator side lenses from the 1991-1996 Honda Beat.

Styling – complete with a ‘cliff cut’ rear window redolent of the Mercury Turnpike Cruiser, Ford Anglia 105E, Citroën Ami 6 and Mazda Carol – was challenging to say the least. Apart from its push-me-pull-you side profile, the Vi, sold in six colours (including the fetching limited edition ‘Cinderella Pearl’ of our toilet crash car, available for just five months of production) took to the road with a four-speed column shift automatic, and nothing else. It’s quite a difficult car to crash, in other words.

Went backwards: that’s pretty much what sales did in Japan for the WiLL Vi, too; although larger two- and all-wheel drive WiLL cars, the VS (2001-2004) and CYPHA (2002-2005) were released after the Vi’s death, Toyota used the data it gathered from the WiLL project to foster another youth-oriented model range – Scion – in the United States.

Toyota UK Magazine reported that 16,000 WiLL Vis were manufactured in period – and that, according to How Many Left, 18 are currently on UK roads (with a handful of VS and CYPHAs trundelling round, too). In April, an example remarkably similar to the Tōfuku-ji Temple car sold for £2100 on online auction site, Car and Classic. We presume no-one’s repatriated it since then…

WiLL number two, the WiLL VS (image: Tokumeigakarinoaoshima, CC BY-SA 4.0)

WiLL CYPHA, spotted near Blacktop Magazine’s adopted home of Peterborough (image: Blacktop archive).

Snail Trail

Near the Frank Perkins Parkway sits a rutted, puddle-filled car park. The entrance leading to said gravel pit is pock marked and uneven. No doubt the locals have several unsavoury names for it.
A small red and white car approaches at speed. From the state of the road surface it could be back home in France, or leaving the gates of Levallois for the last time.

Pitching slightly in his hammock seat, the driver does not lift. The engine thrums insistently, its flat-twin thrash made amplified by the unfurled canvas roof and clipped up front windows.
A serviceable Citroën 2CV scuffs its tyres to a halt in a Peterborough rest area. I’m about to have a go in M.Boulanger’s car for the people-one of the last French examples no less, except this one belongs to my colleague Jack Grover and he’s suggesting I have a go.

Bouncing around the crater-strewn expanse of Potter’s Lane is terrific fun. Having been a rear seat passenger in a bilious yellow-and-black Charleston previously, I can’t wait to get to behind the wheel myself. Having experienced the listing antics of a deux cheveux on tarmac, beige shale seems like an unusual place to start my 2CV driving career-but insurance mitigates any other type of test.

Baffling gear change aside, the little Near the Frank Perkins Parkway sits a rutted, puddle-filled car park. The entrance leading to said gravel pit is pock marked and uneven. No doubt the locals have several unsavoury names for it.
A small red and white car approaches at speed. From the state of the road surface it could be back home in France, or leaving the gates of Levallois for the last time.

Pitching slightly in his hammock seat, the driver does not lift. The engine thrums insistently, its flat-twin thrash made amplified by the unfurled canvas roof and clipped up front windows.
A Citroën 2CV scuffs its tyres to a halt in a Peterborough rest area. I’m about to have a go in M.Boulanger’s car for the people-one of the last French examples no less, except this one belongs to my colleague Jack Grover and he’s suggesting I have a go.

Bouncing around the crater-strewn expanse of Potter’s Lane is terrific fun. Having been a rear seat passenger in a bilious yellow-and-black Charleston previously, I can’t wait to get to behind the wheel myself. Having experienced the listing antics of a ‘deux cheveux’ on tarmac, beige shale seems like an unusual place to start my 2CV driving career-but insurance mitigates any other type of test.

Baffling gear change aside, the little Citroen seems tailor made for such terrain. Its long travel, longitudinally sprung chassis seems completely unbothered by the ruts and ooze, although the doors and trim rattle enthusiastically as my speed increases. Skinny, 125-80 tyres seem like castors by modern standards, but make for incredibly direct and quick steering, eventually scrubbing wide when the speedometer needle shudders past 25mph. Our present setting isn’t far removed from the fallow field specified in the 2CV’s design remit. Fortunately, no eggs are broken on the back seat. There are no further clichés to plough.

The gear change is a whole different ball-game to anyone unused to cardboard French cars. The shift pattern is laid out below the speedo, amid a frangible mess of GS parts-bin switchgear and indicator relays that sound a child rattling a marble inside a tin.
First is on a dog-leg, with the other three ratios transposed across a conventional gate. With some trepidation I crank the lever anti-clockwise and forward, pulling the neutral collar towards me. Despite the steering column punching its way unapologetically ‘twixt clutch and brake, the controls are otherwise conventional, discounting the plastic topped handbrake that sprouts out from under the dashboard.

I was fearing some kind of wrong-slotted, forced neutral ventures into valve bounce, but this didn’t happen. With stones pinging off the 2CV’s chassis, third is just about possible. Any faster and the topography would start testing the considerable wheel travel.

Streaked with mud, and a lop-sided smile, I trade places with Jack and leave the car park.
Another one ticked off the list.

 

 

 

Top Down, Joystick Over Crest

Blacktop relives the glory days of the isometric racing game  via the world’s most decrepit office PC.

In 1993 I was ten years old. Carlos Sainz had recently switched allegiance to Lancia. Racing games were a different kettle of fish back then – resolutely 2D and supplied on floppy disc or cartridge.
I remember discovering World Rally around this time in a Cleveleys arcade and rattling the cabinet with all my available change.

Unlike the rear facing titles – Lotus Esprit,  Jaguar XJ220 and Supercars, this was a rally game – against the clock with a car that sounded like a real, sampled ST185 instead of the farting peaks and troughs of a MIDI synthesiser. Rallying was something I’d always adored, and other than Lombard RAC Rally – which never ran right and frequently dumped me back at the Kickstart screen – the sport wasn’t that well represented in 16-bits.

World Rally blew them all away. The car yumped over crests,  slid around and left tyre tracks on the road surface. There were short cuts and obstacles that had to be negotiated at full speed. Even for a WRC machine, my pixellated Celica was improbably quick. Racing was a fraught affair, always pegged at 60 seconds. Misjudge a bend trying to beat the stage and you red and white Toyota would flip and pinball down the road – as rally cars did for real. The later levels remain a challenge to this day. By manipulating the jumpers you could trick the game into thinking there was more money in the pot than there was. Fail to finish in time and the Celica would rev impatiently against a black screen, your pocket money depleted.

I suspect developer Gaelco released World Rally off the back of Carlos Sainz’s 1992 victory.  A sequel was released in 1995 with a choice of cars. Despite better graphics, it never quite captured the mood of the original. 3D engines were in development. Virtua Racing came for the kids and took them away. Electronic Arts released The Need For Speed in the same year.

Originally NFS wasn’t a throwaway title for whatever absurd street racing concept the developers found at the back of the fridge – it was a simulator developed in conjunction with Road & Track.  Controversially, you could drive your chosen car flat out on a public road, behind a photo realistic dashboard – against the flow of traffic if you felt like it. It looks laughably simplistic now, but it was the beginning of the 1080p wonderland we now take for granted.

The isometric format enjoyed the briefest period in the limelight. Kaneko’s Great 1000 Miles Rally! offered a similar set of challenges, punctuation notwithstanding.

The stages were longer and there were ten cars to choose from. Depending on how much moisture the cabinet had absorbed, you had a choice of two liveries per racer and a hidden ‘SUPER CAR!’ (their emphasis) if you were willing to drop 50p on a single race.  A mutant cross between a Corvette Stingray and the Kamm-tailed rump of a 250 GTO, I presume there was a licensing issue. I also blame the god-awful resolution of these games for my woefully poor eyesight in later life. CONGRATURATIONS!

Away from the arcade, US Gold released the ludicrously difficult Powerdrive.  I remember the Sega Megadrive version being particularly awkward – although the chance to ‘drive’ a two-tone Trofeo specification Fiat Cinquecento was not something to be missed. There was also Rally Championships from Flair, memorable for the only appearance I can recall of a Vauxhall (nee Opel) Calibra as a playable rally car. Life imitating pixels, obviously – the Calibra’s rally career was brief and undistinguished.

So what of World Rally, the game that piqued my interest all those years ago? Why drag it out of obscurity?  I come to things late in the day, as you will all discover. In 2008 Gaelco mad the astonishing decision to re-release World Rally as a freeware ROM. This meant that anyone with a suitable emulator could download it for their own personal use, without having to possess an original JAMMA board.

Try it for yourself. Grab a copy of MAME (Multi Arcade Machine Emulator) and a cheap USB joypad and put that dull Celica sprite through its paces. After racking up an impressive overdraft buying a Supergun, the frequent connection hisitronics and static discharges from unshielded PSUs wore thin. I won’t go into the hideous expense of buying and storing the PCBs and finding a Neo Geo joypad at a suitable price either. Take it from me, MAME is a much better option, and it’ll run on the most arthritic of PCs.

I blame Old Japanese Car’s Dan Hirst for showing me the link in the first place.

MAME download : http://mamedev.org/release.html

Gaelco’s ROM download page : http://www.gaelco.com/english/pages/hablando/frhablan.htm

Old Japanese Car forum: http://www.oldjapanesecar.com/

Eskilstuna Vederandag 2013 [Pictures]

Blacktop was lucky enough to take a trip to Sweden in August. ClassicMotor Magazine’s Vederandag was run in collaboration with the local aerodrome and attracted a huge following of cars, some of which would be unusual on a British showfield. A huge autojumble also drew in the crowds.

Words & Pictures : Jon Burgess

An early Renault 4 leaves the proceedings at Eskilstuna airfield

Even the Volvo Amazon gets the rat treatment.

Plenty of Americana here. GM Futureliner was rescued by ClassicMotor Magazine several years ago.

343 must be a rare survivor of the early build series that was dogged by poor quality.

GM Futureliner in the same state as its last outing at Barkarby.

Panhard Dyna Z. Blacktop can thoroughly recommend David Beare’s book on the marque.

Fiat & Borgward, a rare pairing in the UK.

’57 Tri Chevy heads the queue.

Fintail & Tiger Moth.

Duett via Taunus.

Books and ephermera were everywhere.

Dutch Hutch

A keyed door, new old stock revelations and a 16.8 second quarter mile. Hardly the stuff of legend.

Update: Blacktop Staff

Photos : Jon Burgess & Blackett’s Photography

“With a few minor changes to the suspension and brakes, Blacktop plans to take the 460 to the RAF Marham charity track day in April. We’ll keep you posted.”

It is my obligation to inform you that the Volvo never made it to Marham. Not because of any spectacular mechanical malady you understand, more a case of clashing appointments. Blacktop was due at the Retro Rides Gathering the same day. Having failed to make it up Prescott Hill, the Volvo hadn’t really had much of a chance to be driven in anger.

Manifold Danger! Fast & Furious 6 Reviewed

Steroidal poses, improbable action sequences and the inevitable use of nitrous oxide – Jon Burgess watches the latest Fast & Furious installment.

Under the backdrop of Battersea power station, a po-faced exchange takes place between villain Owen Shaw [Luke Evans] and mumbling cue-ball Dominic Torretto [Vin Diesel]. It more or less sums up the progression of the Fast & Furious series. Starting out small time in South LA, the original cast stole DVD players from trucks in body kitted Honda Civics – reflecting the import car craze that swept across California in 2001. Universal quickly realised they had a cash generator. Five films later, domestic muscle cars and clunking action film subplots notwithstanding we arrive at the sixth iteration of the franchise having travelled to Tokyo,  Mexico City, Rio de Janeiro and everywhere in between. The title credit sequence gives us the franchise’s greatest hits to a pounding Wiz Khalifa soundtrack, and it really doesn’t take long for the uninitiated to get up to speed [sorry].

Mint, As A Whole.

A crashed Mini, an avowed dislike of the Megabus and a cut-price trip to the Le Mans Classic all played their part in the transformation of a 1985 VW Polo from blue-rinse box to fast-road hero.

Story : Jon Burgess

Photos : Jon Burgess and Jahmal Thomas

The rear axle bushes thump and crack over the local roads,  four bellowing carburettors barely silenced – not that it matters, given the complete lack of sound deadening.

Owner James Nethercoat is in the driver’s seat. We peer into the powder coated front beam where Wolfsburg would have attached the Polo’s original dashboard – long gone, with the original interior. Clambering out of the seats, over the bar of the roll cage, head throbbing, it’s crazy to think James used this car to go to work five days a week.

In Awe Of The 604

To what standards should a luxury car be judged?

Blacktop pondered this question as contributor Pete Murray whisked us between photo locations in Liverpool. Scurrying around city landmarks for the sole purpose of glorifying an obscure Peugeot was a conceit to make de Certeau proud.

Ensconced in the Dralon armchairs, the 604 tackled the cobbles of the city centre with aplomb. Never completely removed from the action, you were aware of their presence but never bothered by it. Only the grizzling odd fire V6 detracted from our progress.

The 604 cemented itself in Pete’s affections at an early age. The late Murray Senior ran a Peugeot dealership in the seventies, and ran an early model as a personal car. Contemporary magazines spoke highly of the Peugeot. A 1980 issue of CAR rated it above a Rolls Royce and Jaguar for ride quality. Many modern luxury cars would struggle to better the 604’s supple ride and delicate handling – even if in absolute terms the Peugeot would be left for dead. Should a £1500 604 and a £70k + air sprung Mercedes S-Class be spoke of in the same sentence? That shows you the depth of the 604’s ability.

Riding on unfashionably high profile 15” wheels, it has features Blacktop until recently associated with much younger machines. Global closure, anyone? Add a comprehensive range of equipment, simple but robust interior fixtures, a surprising turn of speed and a spectacularly disdainful handbook – and you have a 27 year old barge capable of crossing Europe with ease. It’s a tragedy Britain never took the 604 to its heart – but large French cars have never sold well here. It would be much happier plying the Routes Nationales between albums on the 8 track, the self emptying ashtray full of Gitanes butts. In Metrocolor, obviously. Far more appropriate than skulking between the Liver buildings with Radio 2 playing the Titanic OST. Not that this ever actually happened.

A bluff 3 box shape of almost childlike simplicity, the model marked the zenith of the rear wheel drive French luxury car. It certainly looked like the product of another decade when Pete’s 1983 year model was built, originally to Australian market specification. At some point its original peppermint green was blown over with a Jaguar shade closely resembling the notorious PSA Diablo Red. Originally registered to the Peugeot plant in Ryton when the order from Down Under was cancelled, it spent many years in the hands of a reclusive East Anglian car collector working in London.

Murray found the car via a fellow 604 owner. An eight hour round trip to Diss saw it back in his native Merseyside, and after a long and protracted restoration (in which more and more filler was found) it returned to roadworthy status after a long absence. With an Mk 2 Escort project to finish, Pete decided to let the Peugeot go. Thus did the luxury car lose to the rally weapon. A new owner was soon found on eBay, and one of the very few 604s still extant will live on. ‘Had I not saved it’, Pete opines, ‘it would have been scrapped without a doubt.’

Now you know the story behind the car atop Blacktop’s banner. Long may it waft into the distance, its occupants unperturbed.

Blacktop Project Car : 1990 Volvo 460 Turbo

In what is becoming a depressingly regular event, another 400 Series Volvo has passed into the Blacktop fleet. It appeared briefly on Retro Rides with no interest, and then as a lot on eBay. We can’t remember the last time we saw a 460 locally, to be honest.

Words : Blacktop Staff

Pictures : Jon Burgess

I Have Been To Brean

Driving on sand – a humble, yet laudable aspiration. Why build sandcastles when your wheel arches can join in and disappear with the tide? Blacktop was game, regardless.

Words & Pictures : Jon Burgess

March 25^th marked the sixth annual Brean Sands Beach Party organised by the redoubtable Brian Andrews-Rowley, better known by his online user name of Brian Damaged.