Five inch alloys

Britain would be greater if it didn’t have quite so much weather, and even better if what we got wasn’t crap all the time. Outside, right this minute, visibility is down to about half a mile, due to silvergrey curtains of hard-driven rain. Not the best of conditions for road testing open topped transport, unless like Clarkson you are studying how long a toupee can withstand the pull of the backdraught.

I’m a regular user of open topped vehicles. The cry of “Boadicea!” has long worn into disuse in our village, through which for the past 25 years I have been a traveller by pony and trap. But gales and heavy rain are no fun for either me or the motive power so I’m stuck here indoors, muttering frustratedly, and watching the windows shuddering under the effect of wind-hurled buckets of water.

All of which makes it pleasant to recall road testing in an indoor setting last week. Indoor road testing? Yes indeed, and it wasn’t your virtual stuff either, not an X-box in sight. This was performed on the faultlessly clean corridors of the Westmorland General Hospital: long, smooth, with tricky corners and intersections carrying traffic that is sometimes pedestrian, sometimes wheeled, but all more or less unpredictable. In fact while taking part in this road test I passed a couple of my neighbours from the village and they didn’t even see me. It might have been the speed of my passing, but I’m forced to admit it was more likely utter distraction that caused their blindness.

Well, to get down to business, this set of wheels is a single seater. It’s generously proportioned; you could certainly get your fat friend from the pub into it with an inch or two to spare; but it doesn’t stretch to carrying two. Nonetheless, this is a single seater for group use, and about the best fun you’ll get in any hospital. Forget that silent electric panther that the one legged man with diabetes uses to prowl up and down the Orthopedic ward; this is a straightforward, seat-of-the-pants job that leaves him floundering. The XJ-6 hospital chair.

It’s easy-entry; just hop in and go. Decidedly open-topped, it looks to have the aerodynamic qualities of John Prescott, but don’t be deceived: this wind-in-the-hair beauty can reach five miles an hour on the straight. The cornering is stable, with good foot support, predictable with good feel and minimal understeer and distinctly superior to the supermarket trolley. But watch your fingers all the same. Keep them within the bodyframe. You can see the scars of previous power slides on the walls.

The suspension is non existent, not even the standard steel girder and leaf springs, but would you go off-roading in this? Well, what are you asking for then? The tyres are one-inch solid rubber on five-inch alloys. It has variomatic gears and a fuel consumption that must be one of the best around: although cups of tea and sandwiches have to be endlessly supplied, anything must be cheaper than diesel these days.

It’s a bit underpowered uphill, but you can’t have everything. You want an adrenalin rush? Downhill, that’s something else. None of that “grab-the-rim control” that you get with the classic wheelchair. Just cling on tight and give your life into the hands of the muscles at the back; a bit like being galloped down the street on a bogie by your big brother when you were a kid. With this monster you’re at the edge of what’s sane, because you haven’t got either power or control. Try not to scream; your cheeks will flap like swan’s wings if you do.

Other controls are basic. There’s a footbrake only accessible from the back, so when you’re parked, it’s permanent. It has a range of about half a mile, or the end of the car park, whichever is the nearer; and it copes robustly with anything from smooth tiled corridors to tarmac. The trim is basic black vinyl – so retro – with aluminium accents in the foot well.

There are a few options – lap belts for holding your dressing gown shut in windy conditions; paired hooks for catheter bags (discreetly hidden under the seat). If you go for the basic model without the standholder for your fluid drip, you’ll need a friend to push that alongside. If you wanted a boot, forget it; bring another friend to trail the suitcase.  Already we’re up to four people – not bad for a single seater.

The XJ-6 is built to last much, much longer than you’d like, so this is probably one you’ll want to borrow, rather than buy.

You’ve hit the car park at last. Officially you’ve been discharged, so go on, take it back. Carefully.