What Vehicle Would You Buy if You Had a Bottomless Budget

Some people dream of a Jag or a Ferrari. Nigel Gifford always wanted to own an autorickshaw. He first saw them in Nepal 30 years ago, when he was in the army and heading off to climb Everest, and he has seen and used them frequently since, in his job running an adventure travel company.

Presumably, if you spend your days arranging for people to float up the Amazon in a rubber dinghy or fall out of a plane over the Sahara, you soon acquire a sense of humour about people and their dreams. Gifford decided not long ago to realise his personal vision – one in which, in an ambitious melding of automotive cultures, he would bring the classic Indian chicken-scatterer to the streets of his home town, which happens to be Wells in Somerset.

After careful research and a series of inquiries that, one would hazard, were unique in the history of the DVLA and the Vehicle Inspectorate, Gifford's Bajaj passenger four-stroke autorickshaw arrived at Felixstowe freight terminal, flat-packed in a crate from Bombay.

Back in Somerset, assembly was carried out by Gifford and a couple of his friends who were working on designs for a balloon that will fly to the edge of space. Despite this impressive grounding in aeronautics, all three of them had trouble getting the autorickshaw's canopy on.

Even then, before Gifford could set off up the high street, his autorickshaw had to be brought into line with European standards of roadworthiness. This was nowhere near as labyrinthine as Gifford had feared. Indeed, it involved just five minor adjustments: most of these related to cowardly things such as seat belts and brake lights, and the most radical was the installation of a windscreen washer. (Gifford got his from a scrapped Fiat.)

Gifford invited me to test-drive the tuk tuk on the streets of Wells. I seized his offer gratefully, and waited with excitement as he pulled the tuk tuk out of his garage. (You can get it into reverse, but why bother when you can shove it?)

They are hugely engaging vehicles, and instantly comical in a British context. If you turned it on its side, it would look as if it were still flat-packed. Essentially, it's a moped with a widened back seat under a tent. It also happily combines some of the most cheerful features of the milk float, the ice cream van and the antique florist's delivery vehicle. Small wonder, then, that in the strictly conserved streets of Wells, the mere appearance of the rickshaw, puttering bravely in the gutters, elicited from people on the pavement spontaneous outbreaks of waving and smiling. Or, in the case of one teenage schoolboy, a fruity “N'yaaaaaaa!”

Air bags, underseat heating, electric windows and a CD changer – these are just some of the many items that are not fitted on an autorickshaw as standard, along with a fourth wheel. Air-conditioning is achieved through the massive side vents or “entrances”, which maintain the vehicle at a steady bracing chill on even the hottest day.

They offer a fascinatingly slow, gritty ride. Gifford claims to have driven it 18 miles to Bristol, which took him an hour-and-a-half, including pauses to, as he put it, “allow the vibration to leave my body”. It's splendidly noisy, too. It sounds like a buzz saw, with a slight top note of a washing machine on spin cycle.

Gear changes are achieved through the counterintuitive grip-and-twist method familiar to Vespa riders. There is no synchromesh. Thrashing up and down outside Wells Cathedral, I frequently found that, between pinching the clutch and locating the gear, I had almost slowed to a stop anyway, thus removing the need for the gear change. Easier, perhaps, to stick to first, where the revs are high and the buzzing is loudest.

Say what you like, though, you can't argue with the figures on economy. The tuk tuk does a challenging 90 miles to the gallon. Also, it only costs 15 per year to tax it, and Norwich Union will offer group-one comprehensive cover. Eat that, Audi owners. However, if you were thinking of restoring it to its traditional use as a taxi, you should forget it: it won't qualify for a hackney licence.

Tuk tuks are still a sensational local task-fulfiller. I was only disappointed to discover that Gifford has not yet got round to importing the standard autorickshaw horn – one of those fat, squeezable numbers that bolts on to the side of the windscreen. As PJ O'Rourke noted in his invaluable essay Third World Driving Hints and Tips, “in the Third World most driving is done with the horn, or 'Egyptian Brake Pedal', as it is known”. There's no reason why this shouldn't also be the case in Wells, certainly on market day.

Sadly though the loop hole in the importation regulations has been closed for some time, and no longer can tuk tuks be imported as Nigel did 12 years ago, but to satisfy those who have would like to own a tuk tuk several companies in UK now import and modify them to address the road worthy regulations.