Put a lid on it: Why Alex reckons the convertible experience is overrated
Like me, you might remember reading that the UK is, despite our famously unreliable weather, one of the biggest markets for open-top cars in Europe. Until recently, no volume manufacturer’s range was complete without a version of something humdrum, featuring a folding roof and a Hawaiian colour scheme.
The end of winter in the UK is often marked by the first sight of a scaffolder with his football shirt tucked into the pocket of a pair of denim shorts. Other indicators include the unmistakable smell of sausage fat mixed with kerosene firelighters and the sound of an MGB Roadster struggling to clear its throat.
We are used to making the most of every moment of sunshine, and dreaming about light and warmth when it’s not so nice out. Hence the Vauxhall Astra Convertible existed for three generations: a reasonably practical car for most of the year, and the roof removed in a few seconds to soak up some UV.
Apparently, we Brits are falling out of love with ragtops. Less than 2 percent of new cars are sold without a permanent lid. Various reasons are cited, including the move to EV technology, SUVs being fashionable and cost. None of these things is insurmountable, although the Range Rover Evoque Convertible and VW T-Roc Cabriolet didn’t go down so well; the T-Roc won’t last beyond 2025.
The all-electric MG Cyberster has a slick folding roof. So too, do the BMW Z4, 4 Series, Mini Convertible and others. So why are they always left in the up position? It’s because convertibles are rubbish. The wind-in-the-hair experience is without doubt one of the most overrated aspects of driving.
The compromise associated with chopping off a roof is well understood: additional weight for the roof mechanism, reduced visibility and increased noise. A reduction in structural rigidity resulting in scuttle shake, or extra weight from unseen bracing. There has never been a convertible version of a car that was better to drive than its tin-top counterpart.
The dream of a convertible is much better than the reality. Headscarf and pointy shades, straw hat, linen shirt. Smiles and laughter as you and your partner cruise through a gentle breeze along the Amalfi Coast. The reality is starkly different: wind buffeting, sunburn and an inability to maintain any form of conversation.
Your drive down to the southern Italian coast might start with the hood down, but before you arrive at Folkestone it’s time to put it back up again and leave it up all the way through France. Air conditioning always wins. The radio is a better way to mask the lack of conversation.
If you like wearing bobble hats, you’ll drive your MX-5 in all weathers and sneer at my observations. I’m right, though. Not once have I ever seen two people wearing bobble hats in an MX-5. The driver is always alone. Dual-zone climate control exists for a reason.
As I write this, little flakes of skin are being shed from my sunburnt scalp onto the laptop keyboard and getting beneath the keys. This is because I spent all yesterday behind the wheel of a convertible, complaining about how hot it was and doing precisely nothing to make it better. Why? Not sure. I’ll be doing it again tomorrow, though.
