The Hare and the Tofaş

It is rumoured, ironically, that the idea for the legendary Tofaş Kartal estate car came about when Mehmet Tofaş the eponymous designer, was studying the inexorable progress of a tortoise across his mountain farm in the rocky Anatolian hinterland.

Despite falling over a ledge and landing upside down the little fellow righted himself and carried on trucking, clambering over or knocking aside everything in its path. This gave the young, ambitious Mehmet his eureka moment. When Mehmet found out that the Anatolian tortoise kept going for over 100 years his determination would brook no obstacle.

“I will design and build a car with just these qualities” the Young Turk vowed.

His idea for a name the Kaplumba (tortoise) was considered a non-starter by investors on the basis that although indestuctability and longevity were good qualities the tortoise was overwhelmingly associated with the idea of measured, steady progress. A quality that was considered by investors to be held in low regard by the Turkish driving community. Thus the Tofaş Kartal (eagle) came in to being in 1981.

Wrongly considered to be made under license to British company Meccano because of its bolt together technology (every part of a Tofaş can be, and probably has been,  replaced at some time in its life), it was in fact made under an agreement with Fiat.

Forty years on a “previously owned” Tofaş has become the cherished vehicle of choice for the builders and tradesmen of Turkey. And understandably. The vehicle is a legend. It comes in a choice of paint finishes; battered blue, battered off white, or karışık (this is the Turkish word for mixed. It is a special finish made up of a patchwork of colours depending on the colour of panel available from the breakers yard at a particular moment).

The vehicle was designed to be sturdy but nevertheless incorporated the basic technology available at the time of production. This is said to have included indicators but there exists no independent verification of this to date.

The Tofaş was later weaponised by converting to Liquid Propane Gas after its adoption as a fuel post oil crisis. For reasons of economy every owner converted to this form of propellant, obliging owners of underground car parks to display prominent signs banning entry to LPG vehicles. This action was based on an understandable determination not to let Murat the Carpenter achieve what many Kurdish Separatist organisations had dreamed of but failed to accomplish.

The other economy measure favoured by the Tofaş driving community is to switch off the engine going downhill. The occupant is, of course, protected by the obligatory seatbelt in the event of an accident. This is, however, of limited benefit as the belt is passed behind the driver before being buckled. This canny ruse prevents the alarm sounding without inhibiting the freedom of movement needed to light a cigarette, make a mobile phone call or indeed both.

It will come as no surprise to anybody who knows Baz the Builder to learn that his dearest possesion is his “previously owned” Tofaş estate car.

Once when we went away for a couple of days Special K nobly offered to drive the Tofaş whist we took the Duster. It is equipped with a bike rack.

On our return she said, clearly still shaken by her one outing, that

“Next time you can take the f**king Tofaş!Nothing on this planet would get me behind the wheel again. I did not get out of second gear. I thought at least it would have power assisted steering!”

“It has” Baz grunted.

He gets prickly about his beloved. I know it is sadly unwoke to say it but the Tofaş is really not a woman’s car. Mountain artist, one time Islamlarite and Tofaş owner Debbie Harston is the exception that proves the rule.

It was Baz’ Tofaş that poor Hare encountered returning home to his cuddly family after an evening out (with Armadillo* perhaps). The poor chap stood no chance and Baz, whose rough exterior conceals a rough interior, lost little time in whipping the corpse in the boot intent later on a bit of culinary experimentation.

So it was that a couple of days on I found myself peering in to the murky depths of a casserole in the Saribelen kitchen of my practically minded friend.

“WTF is that?” I enquired anxiously, peering in to the black depths.

“Lapin à La Sarıbelen” my friend announced proudly “marinated for two days”

“In what? Tarmac?” I replied, letting pass (with difficulty I own) that lièvre not lapin is French for hare.

“It’ll be ready tomorrow. Absolutely delicious with a few foraged vegetables. What are you doing tomorrow evening?”

“Definitely something” I replied.

And that is the story of the Tofaş and the Hare.

If you are reading this in the UK, enjoy your recently returned right to get wrecked but maybe hold off a little. One metre anyway.

And to my fellow residents and citizens of this fine corner of the Mediterranean may your livelihoods be promptly restored.

Şerife

* Jeremy Strong reserves all rights over Armadillo and Hare title