Sinclair and the 'Sunrise' Technology: The Deconstruction of a Myth (28 page)

Extending a familiar theme of Sinclair promotions to something close to breaking point, the blurb struggled to imply that the purchase of a C5 spelt liberation from the multinationals and a blow for the humanization of the urban landscape. To their credit, there are moments when the admen came perilously close to making a turkey look like a dove. But for once reality defeated commercial intent. In spite of the first-class photography and expensive design, the C5 still looked like an exiled pedal car from the children’s section of a mail-order catalogue. In spite of the blue-print style diagrams, Sir Clive’s dream machine manifested all the hi-tech innovation one would expect from a three-wheeled electric moped wrapped in injection-moulded polypropylene. In spite of the brochure’s depiction of a blue-sky suburbia exclusively populated by electric trikes and their drivers, readers continued to speculate on the carnage resulting from C5-omnibus interaction.

The official launch of the C5 at Alexandra Palace was an unqualified disaster. Ever unpredictable, Sir Clive had astounded his public by launching his open-topped, low-performance trike in the middle of winter. The first (and last) product from Sinclair Vehicles was unveiled on 10 January 1985 and priced at £399. In his opening speech, Sir Clive confirmed suspicions that, rather than make any serious attempt at technological advance, Sinclair Vehicles had chosen to rush out the C5 in the hope of capitalizing on the new electric-vehicle legislation. In any event, the reality that was the C5 fell well short of the promise of Sir Clive’s vision, and at times his obligatory launch euphoria sounded dangerously apologetic:

I’m going to start in a rather unusual fashion by telling you what we’re not announcing today ... we’re not announcing a conventional car. Sinclair Vehicles is dedicated to the development and production of a full range of electric cars, but today we have an electric vehicle, the first stage on the road to an electric car. (The Sinclair Story, p. 164.)

Although desperate hacks did their best to evoke the shock-horror vision of packs of 14-year-olds terrorizing the neighbourhood in their customized C5s, it was clear that the launch offered little mileage for the tabloids. For the rest of the press, close encounters with the trike provided the long-awaited opportunity to voice doubts about the commercial viability of Sinclair’s vehicle project. Appallingly negligent organization at the launch did much to ensure that journalists’ negative preconceptions were soon confirmed by experience. It turned out that for one reason or another a large number of the demonstration machines simply didn’t work! What possible excuse can there be for inviting the press to assess the reliability of your product and then providing them with defective machines? A little ahead of schedule, Sir Clive’s new company took on the commercial scars that are the hallmark of a depressingly enduring Sinclair tradition.

Critical evaluation arrived in three main waves, and little of it did anything to encourage sales. Even before the official launch the trike was under attack from the British Safety Council (BSC). It seems that on the 6 January 1985 the Council’s James Tye accepted Sir Clive’s invitation to test-drive the new product at Vehicle’s Science Park headquarters. After due consideration, the vociferous Mr Tye made it clear that he didn’t like what he saw. He was particularly concerned about the prospective mobilization of unlicensed, uninsured 14-year-olds; teenagers and C5s was not a combination the Council relished. Two days before the launch, the BSC issued a decidedly negative report on the trike, which was dispatched to its 32,000 members. The following day, Sir Clive announced his intention to sue both the BSC and Tye for their ‘defamatory remarks’ about his project. Although nothing came of the threat, Sinclair remains bitter about Tye’s opposition to the C5 and the amount of media attention given over to the BSC’s views:

The C5 got a very bad press. There’s an outfit called the British Safety Council who sound like a government agency but... go round bad-mouthing other people’s products, as far as I can make out... The interesting thing was that the ROSPA [Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents], who are the real authorities on safety, thought the C5 was absolutely super. They were very supportive because they thought it was a great improvement on the bicycle and motorbikes, so were very keen to see it succeed. But the press, of course, listened to the vocal James [Tye]. (Interview, 6 November 1985.)

In the wake of the fateful launch, intrepid motoring and technology correspondents filed their anecdotes and voiced their doubts. All in all the critical response was firmly negative. The following extract is fairly representative of the general tone of the next-day impressions:

The instructions were quite simple: sit in, switch on and go. And go the Sinclair C5 vehicle ... certainly did. For seven minutes. Then the first battery ran flat. Fortunately, I was not stuck in the middle of a city rush-hour nor on an isolated country road ... I pedalled the C5 back to the service point (my legs are still aching even though the slopes were gentle) and the spare battery was connected ... But nothing could compensate for the sheer feeling of vulnerability in spite of Sinclair’s claim that it is far safer than anything on two wheels. The electrically powered car might be the personal transport of the future, but if the C5 is anything to go by, then that day has not yet dawned. (Daily Telegraph, 11 January 1985.)

Overall, the gentlemen of the press seemed to suspect that the C5’s hardware simply wasn’t up to the task of realizing the manufacturer’s already rather limited performance claims with any measure of reliability:

The 250 watt electric motor which drives one of the back wheels proved incapable of powering the C5 up even the gentlest slopes without using pedal power. The tricycle soon started making a plaintive ‘peep, peep’ noise, signalling that the engine had overheated ... The C5 is compromised by the need to sneak in under the quaintly named Electrically Assisted Pedal Cycle Regulations 1983. This lays down a maximum power of 250 watts for the engine which gives the C5 a top speed of 15 mph on the level - less than most cyclists would manage. (Your Computer, February 1985.)

If the newspapers cast doubts about the viability of the Sinclair enterprise, then the measured assessments of the C5 by consumer and motoring agencies must take the credit for planting the kiss of death. For example, the Automobile Association (AA) was in no doubt that many of Sinclair Vehicles’ claims for the C5 were contradicted by the results of the Association’s own tests.

The first of Sinclair’s claims to be called into question was the ‘up to 20 miles’ range (determined by the life of the battery) referred to in the advertising campaigns:

Tests on the AA’s normal suburban fuel-evaluation course gave a ‘typical’ range of ten miles, about half that claimed by the makers. On a cold day, in poor conditions, the battery ran flat after 6.5 miles. (Daily Telegraph, 2 May 1985.)

Confirming Your Computer’s suspicion that the C5’s motor simply wasn’t powerful enough to drive the vehicle under anything but the most favourable conditions, the Association recorded a maximum running speed of 12.5 mph (against the 15 mph claimed by Sinclair). The AA’s report had this to say about the C5’s running costs:

…for the C5 over a year would work out at £19.17 on off-peak electricity or £21.77 at standard rates, allowing partly for eventual battery replacement. This compared with £19.25 for a £390 Honda PX50 moped, against which it was compared. The moped had a maximum range of 150 miles on a tankful of fuel, with an average consumption of 170 mpg and a maximum speed of more than 30 mph. (ibid.)

In consideration of the C5’s overall performance, the Association drew the following conclusions:

The C5 looks more comfortable and convenient than it really is — older cyclists looking for less pedal effort will be disappointed by the agility its layout demands. Although it is delightfully quiet, performance, range and comfort do not compare with the better mopeds and costs are much closer than one might think when one allows for the inevitable battery replacement, (ibid.)

At the top of a sizeable list calling into question the C5’s stability and general roadworthiness, the AA, like virtually everyone who came into contact with the machine, expressed concern about the visibility of C5 drivers at large. Once again it was suggested that the ‘Hi-Vis Mast’ be incorporated as a standard feature. No one at Sinclair Vehicles seemed particularly keen to respond to the AA report:

A spokesman for Sinclair Vehicles said, ‘It would seem fruitless to argue in any detail with an organization like the AA, but on the question of running costs compared with a moped, they are not comparing like with like.’ (ibid.)

If the results of the AA’s test amplified public doubts about the C5, the review of the vehicle in the consumer magazine Which? effectively dug a grave for the project. Since the Which? report (June 1985) is essentially an amalgamation of most of the criticisms of the C5 that we have already noted, we’ll simply list some of the survey s somewhat cryptic summary as an indication of the areas of concern:

How far? A lot less than claimed.

How fast? Hard to keep up with traffic.

Handling and braking? Adequate.

How safe? Not very good.

How manoeuvrable? Disappointing.

How secure? Too easy to steal.

How reliable? Not promising.

Our verdict: of limited use in its present form; poor value for money.

But enough from the professionals who get paid to complain. How was the real world responding to the arrival of the C5? In the light of the initial mail-order-only policy, the only place that Joe Public was likely to come across a C5 was in the local electricity showrooms which displayed the vehicle for a couple of months after the launch. With such limited exposure, it’s unlikely that the C5’s launch was noticed by many outside the sizeable but hardly representative network of Sinclair supporters.

In the absence of reliable statistics, it’s difficult to assess the initial response to the mail-order promotion. Four weeks after the launch the company was celebrating the sale of a modest 1000 units (remember, Hoover were geared up to produce 200,000 C5s in the first year), and one month later Barrie Wills was claiming that there were 5000 C5s on the road. In addition, Sinclair Vehicles had doubled its sales staff and was struggling to process around 200,000 information requests about the C5. So all was well. Or was it? Was there anything to be concluded from the discreet announcement that plans for an expansion of the vehicle production line had been temporarily ‘postponed’?

In February 1985, a reporter from The Times succeeded where we failed by unearthing some of the early buyers of Sir Clive’s transportation revolution. How did it feel to be the first on your block to own a C5? Take 48-year-old businessman Roger Wilding:

Most of us hope that electric vehicles will take over one day because they are cheaper, quieter and pollution-free. Sinclair seemed to be taking a big step towards achieving this and I felt it was important to support him. However, I thought the C5 would be more sophisticated and, although the design is very clever and it performs surprisingly well, the technology is not very innovative. I’m a little disappointed and am thinking of selling.’ (5 February 1985.)

Or disabled pensioner Dick German:

‘I was very excited when it first arrived, but the first time I tried it out it would just not go up a hill and I had to come home. I then got my stepson to have a go and he didn’t get much further, so I have sent it back.’ (ibid.)

Apparently unaffected by the portents of impending doom, Sir Clive felt inspired to announce a new product. Scattering investment projections of around the £100m mark, he anticipated that by 1990 Sinclair Vehicles would be marketing the C15, an electric powered four-seater car capable of speeds of up to 80 mph. Dismissing the possibility of using a combination of electric and petrol/diesel power, he explained that his design would be based around innovations in battery technology. One suspects that Sir Clive’s compelling dreams were relying on the principles of innovation as an act of will. Certainly he offered no indication of the kind of approach he would employ in his solution of one of the century’s most elusive technological problems. However, he was clear about the shape of the new vehicle and the kind of wheels he might use:

The car has a futuristic design with an elongated ‘tear-drop’ shape, a lightweight body made of self-coloured polypropylene and a single, possibly ‘roller’ type rear wheel. (The Times, 3 February 1985.)

Back in the real world, by March 1985 it was clear that Sinclair and Wills were becoming anxious about the public’s sluggish response to an extremely expensive promotion. There was a serious danger that the C5 would be lost in a sea of indifference. Sir Clive’s inspired solution to the problem was to hire teams of unemployed teenagers to ride C5s around the capital promoting public awareness of the product. The campaign was later extended to Birmingham a ndLeeds. The experiment got the C5 noticed, but there’s little evidence that it boosted sales. From 1 March, the C5 started to be sold in the high street through the Woolworth and Comet chainstores, with the latter buying in a launch stock of 1600 units. Nine months later, both companies were stuck with the bulk of their original orders, and slashed the C5’s price by 65 per cent in an effort to move the product.

To make a bad situation worse, Sinclair had received numerous complaints that the C5’s performance was impaired by the plastic moulding attached to the gearbox. The decision was taken to halt production for three weeks so that the problem could be sorted out. The 100 Hoover workers concerned with C5 production were shifted to replacing the plastic moulding on the vehicles currently in stock.