TO PEOPLE OF a certain age, the name Highway Star evokes thoughts of long hair, flared jeans and a rip-roaring, air-guitar number by rock band Deep Purple. And when our motoring editor e-mailed me the lyrics of Highway Star, I thought how odd it was that Nissan had named its special-edition, eight-seater Elgrand van after rocker Ian Gillan's anthem to speed.
But the Highway Star is a sportier, meaner version of the boxy, seven-seater Elgrand that has proven such a favourite for shopping trips and cross-border factory flits. The front grille has been redesigned with Xenon headlights that readjust to speed and direction. There are 17-inch, six-spoke alloys to give the hint of speed, and exciting skirts have been added to the sides. The Elgrand has crossed the tracks and is wearing the Goth motoring equivalent of a Deep Anger leather jacket with optional studs.
Nissan has made bigger changes. Open the Highway Star with the key fob and you see a mobile, leather-upholstered boardroom packed with expensive looking gadgets such as a rear DVD player. Yet the dashboard is panelled with Masame wood that looks like stick-on plastic.
Keyless-go systems are wonderful, but any joy from starting the van without trying to find a keyhole is lost when I realise the handbrake is a foot brake. Releasing the brake on a hill involves a complicated River Dance-style manoeuvre, as I try to keep my foot on all three pedals at once.
I'm in gadget heaven: the Highway Star has a global positioning system (GPS) that lets you select a Hong Kong or mainland destination, or just ask to be shown where the nearest cinema is.
The tension is high as I select 'Central Post Office' as our target, ease off the brake and off we go. Immediately, a voice from the dashboard scolds me for driving too fast. I slow down, but it pipes up again. After 10 minutes of nagging, I wonder when this bossy glove-box auntie is going to tell me I'm too thin, ask me when I'm going to have children and start force-feeding me soup.
Feeling hen-pecked, I drive as though I'm transporting a cargo of eggs. Other than telling me to slow down, 'auntie' likes to give instructions three seconds before the turning. Half way down the steep congestion of Pokfulam Road, the voice starts screaming at me to make a U-turn. I ignore it, which sends it into a frenzy of repeating: 'Recomputing route.' The Highway Star is light and easy to handle but, as we're in a one-way street, the subsequent instruction to do another U-turn is tricky.