This wasn't a good idea. I'm sitting in an electric Lotus Elise that's semi-submerged in the middle of Lake Zurich, and we're about to dive. If I don't get frazzled then I'll probably drown. Maybe both – I'll be the world's first deep-fried journalist in the world's first underwater car. Welcome to the Rinspeed sQuba. And did I mention it's worth a million quid?
The creation of Frank Rinderknecht, the sQuba exists for two reasons. One, because Rinderknecht likes to be different, and two, to promote the abilities of his Swiss firm Rinspeed, which constructs one-off motor show concept cars for big-brand car manufacturers. So what better way to demonstrate Rinspeed's talents than to design and build a diving car – if it works?
Rinderknecht's beaming as he talks me round his baby, pointing out the (apparently waterproofed) lithium-ion batteries and 72bhp electric motor that have replaced the Toyota engine, assuring me that the first ‘sea trials' in Florida went off without a hitch. I want to make a clever 007-style pun (dip the headlights, perhaps?) but Rinderknecht's Q is in full flow and now all the stories I've heard about leaky Lotuses are coming back to me.
Yet Rinderknecht carries on as if letting a journalist pilot his one-off prototype down the nearest slipway and off across Lake Zurich is an everyday occurrence. Frankly I'm rather nervous about my maiden voyage; I've always believed that water and electricity don't mix.
We're off, moving silently (it's electric, remember) through the docks and down to the water's edge. We splash in, the nose goes light – made buoyant by all the foam sprayed into every nook and cranny – and our, er, car starts to float away from the shore.
With the press of a button the sQuba transforms from roadster to boat. Louvres in the front grille (or should that be gill?) open to direct water into the jets mounted on the wings and drive stops going to the rear wheels.
A hand throttle controls the propellers, so I open her up and we head towards the middle of the lake, the sQuba bobbing gently on the waves. I trail my fingers in the cool waters that surround us and look back to land where the other cars motor along, their drivers unaware that they're passing a paddling car. What a perfectly lovely day out.
It's time to dive, and to do so we have to effectively scuttle the sQuba. All that foam means it naturally floats, even with two big blokes on board, so to get this car to sink, sorry dive, we have to open the doors and let the water in…
It's not something I want to do, and Lake Zurich isn't helping either. The door barely opens under the weight of the water and it takes all my might just to create a tiny gap.
The water trickles in at first, but suddenly it's a torrent, welling up around my ankles, filling my shoes, seeping into my wetsuit, freezing my nether regions.
There's no time to think. Mask on, mouthpiece in and I'm breathing through the car's onboard air supply as the sQuba starts to submerge. But with all that foam the sQuba only sinks so far, settling just beneath the surface. Yet my lanky frame means my head remains like a periscope above the water. I feel alone in Lake Zurich. This was a bad idea.
To dive further down we have to force the sQuba against its natural buoyancy using the wing-mounted jets. They're angled by two levers that replace the gearstick, and driven by the clutch and accelerator pedals. Both are depressed and we begin to head downwards. Forget wind-in-your-hair motoring; this is water-in-your-wetsuit diving.
Ever been in a fast car when it's accelerated and your stomach's been squeezed as you've been pushed back into the seat? Like that sensation? Then try the sQuba. Your whole body is compressed with every inch that you dive deeper, your mask is pressed against your face with the entire force of Lake Zurich piling in on top of you.
Underwater it's eerily quiet except for my Darth Vader-esque breathing. If only the visibility wasn't so poor at 16-feet under. But diving in the sQuba is still an incredible and magical experience. Like a child discovering its limbs for the first time, I'm drawn towards my hands, studying them, intrigued by this alien feeling of weightlessness in the familiar surroundings of the sQuba's cabin. Perhaps it's the closest I'll get to driving on the moon.
This isn't my overriding memory of the sQuba though, and nor is it my first guilt-free wee in a car (but that's another story). What I will always recall will be free-diving around the sQuba once we resurface.
The sQuba, a car, floating in the middle of Lake Zurich is a mesmerising sight. Like a ship in a dry dock, it looks so different out of its natural habitat. It is magical, seductive and mysterious, a strange new type of car. It's a memory I shall always have, and thankfully one I didn't take to a watery grave.
By Ben Pulman
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This article originally appeared in issue seven of V-ZINE, the motoring magazine that is distributed in UK and Italy exclusively to the members of the Shell V-Power Club, Shell's premium loyalty scheme dedicated to Shell V-Power customers. Click here to find out more about Shell Escape, Shell's loyalty Programme in Singapore.
Photo courtesy of Rinspeed Inc.
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