Road Test: Mercedes-Benz CLS 63 AMG Shooting Brake

Thu, 20 Sep 2012 11:26:04 +0100

Price as tested: €192,000 (approx)

+ Gorgeous but practical, explosive but smooth
– Thirsty and expensive. Do you care?
= Awesome performance matched with everyday usability

It’s all to temping to being describing the Mercedes-Benz CLS AMG with the same terminology that you’d use for armaments and munitions. The artillery barrage of noise from the engine, the machine-gun speed of the gearchange, the sheer weapons-grade explosiveness of the performance. A great wall of Prussian might (Swabian might, actually, but Swabia never had Prussia’s PR machine), a steel hand in a steel glove with some small velvet edging.

But it’s not really like that at all. You see, AMG is in some ways a both a victim of its own publicity and a cunning usurper of its own image. The once independent tuner, now long since an official, fully-owned subsidiary of Daimler-Benz, is happy to project an image of tyre-smoking lunacy, V8-powered bombast and a general mien of being the chief of staff car for the Autobahn Aggressor Corps. And if you were to pick one of the more deliberately lairy AMG models, a Black Series C63 Coupe for example, that’s what you’d have.

This, the CLS 63 AMG Shooting Brake is rather a different kettle of seafood, and in many ways a much more pleasing one. One of the nice things about all but the most hardcore AMG models is that, long ago, Mercedes laid down a diktat that no matter how much AMG DNA is injected, the core genes must always be those of Mercedes. So comfort, usability, practicality and refinement are at least as high up the list as sideways shenanigans.

Let’s deal with the CLS Shooting Brake in isolation for a moment. On oddball idea, to take a four-door coupe, itself closely mechanically related to the saloon and estate E-Class, and turn it into an estate, but Mercedes, like so many car makers, is using its manufacturing power and its scales of economy to explore niches in the market that no-one previously knew existed. The original CLS itself was just such an odd idea, and one that proved massively successful. So who knows, maybe there are people out there who want a car with CLS looks and B&Q practicality. Certainly, I can see the appeal myself and that lushly carpeted (or American cherry wood trimmed) load bay is actually quite practical – the 590-litre luggage capacity easily matches the supposedly more upright and practical BMW 5 Series Touring or Audi A6 Avant.

Back to the AMG, and it’s hard not the feel a touch intimidated when you climb aboard first. I recently drove the new 560bhp BMW M5 and pronounced it glorious, but almost impossible to drive legally on the public road. The CLS, with 525bhp, is giving away a touch of power but with 700Nm of torque and a fast-acting twin-clutch seven-speed paddle-shift gearbox, it sure isn’t going to be hanging around.

Like the M5, you can use a series of buttons on the centre console, adjoining the stubby gear selector, to tune the suspension, gearbox and throttle response to your liking. Or you can simply jab a finger at the button marked AMG and get the full-on, full noise performance.

Do so and... and the CLS still feels remarkably docile. Oh, the 5.5-litre twin-turbo V8 still snarls and barks as you’d want it to, and the horizon is reeling in towards you at a massive rate, but it never feels intimidating or overwhelming. The power seems to be delivered at a more steady rate than the all-of-a-sudden thump of the M5. The CLS just feels like it leaves a tiny cushion between you and the serious end of the performance spectrum, and that is all to the good when it comes to driving on the road with some level of sanity.

Of course, start to push a little harder, build up your confidence and things really start to come to life. Suddenly, the scenery is flashing by, the steering, accessed through a small, squared-off, suede-wrapped wheel, is alive with information and devilishly quick at getting the CLS’ snub nose pointed into an apex. The whole car feels delightfully slim-hipped and agile, seeming almost to hang weightless between movements, never exhibiting slack yet also never feeling as if it’s going to turn and bite. Add in some wet surfaces or slippery autumnal leaves, and that may change but the CLS’ demeanour is mostly that of a pussycat.

All of which makes it one of the most bewitching performance cars I have ever sampled. Beautiful, practical, comfortable, refined and yet with the kind of rocket-assisted sledgehammer performance that you subliminally expect from an AMG, all wrapped in a delightfully unusual package. It won’t be to all tastes, and certainly won’t be within the reaches of many pockets (235g/km and 10-litres per 100km how are you?) but as an icon of what can be done with modern high performance technology, it is little short of ballistic.

Mercedes-Benz CLS 63 AMG Shooting Brake
Price as tested: €192,000 (approx)
Range price: €70,000 (approx) to €192,000 (approx)
Capacity: 5,461cc
Power: 525bhp
Torque: 700Nm
Top speed: 250kmh
0-100kmh: 4.4sec
Economy: 10.1-100km (27.9mpg)
CO2 emissions: 235g/km
Tax Band: G. €2,258 road tax
Euro NCAP rating: Not yet tested

Road Test: Mini Cooper Roadster

Thu, 13 Sep 2012 10:16:43 +0100

Price as tested: €28,165

+ Better looking than the Coupe, fun, agile, engaging
– Crashy ride, limited practicality
= Sweet and fun but we still prefer the standard Mini hatch

I am, I will admit, somewhat baffled by the existence of the Mini Coupe. Why? Because the Mini hatchback is already a coupe. No it's not, you will say. It's a hatchback, clear as day. Not so. Take this simple list of the standard Mini's attributes. Two comfy seats in a stylish (if archly retro) cabin up front, a pair of cramped, tight-fitting, only fitfully useful seats behind and a small boot. A car bought almost entirely on the strength of its style and personality. That's a shopping list that brings you immediately to the door of EuroCoupe – coupe supermarket to the stars.

So, by taking out the occasionally useful pair of rear seats, plonking an offensively ugly roof on the top and calling it a coupe, Mini has created one of the most singularly pointless and unattractive cars I have ever driven, quite apart from its poor ride quality. It does nothing on the road that the Mini hatch doesn't do at least as well, often better, yet is more expensive and less useful. Avoid.

This, the Mini Roadster, I have to say I find significantly less troublesome and its cleaner, crisper styling is only the half of it. Because it has a folding fabric roof that stows neatly away behind the two seat cockpit, there is at least a compelling reason for the excision of the hatch's two rear seats. In doing so, it actually manages to look better than its four-seat equivalent, the Mini convertible (with its awkward rear headrests and pram-like hood) and manages therefore to deftly sidestep the Coupe's inherent pointlessness.

Of course, it is a bit of a silly car for Ireland, and that is only partly down to our regular climactic conditions. It's not even not very practical, it's not practical at all, with a tiny boot and little in the way of extra stowage space in the cabin. Not only that, but the rival Mazda MX-5 easily shows it the way home in terms of driving position, handling balance and even boot space.

Still, the Mini Roadster is at least a fun little thing. Front-drive it may be but the standard Mini's up-and-at-em chassis is still a delight, more than a decade on from its original re-invention. The steering still feels meaty and rewarding when pointing the stubby nose into a corner and in terms of grip and agility it's hard to fault. A shame that the seemingly standard too-hard ride is there; it does rather spoil the mood when tackling some of Ireland's more entertaining back roads. Someday, car makers will realise that an ability to shrug off bumps and lumps is actually more help to making swift progress than all the low profile tyres and stiff springs in the world, but I suspect it will take the carpet-bombing (or impending financial destruction) of the (in)famous Nurburgring race track to do so. The fewer car makers that sign off their stiff chassis settings on that legendary strip of tarmac, the happier I am...

The 1.6-litre 120bhp petrol engine proves that diesel needn't have things all its own way in the Mini range, and indeed reminds you that you don't need to upgrade to a Cooper S just to enjoy yourself. True, performance is hardly electrifying, but then it's more fun to spend the time winding something like the Cooper up to brisk speeds than to simply stamp on the pedal of something more powerful and arrive immediately at licence-threatening velocity. Well, I've always thought so at any rate. That it's a crisp and smooth unit, eager to rev and decently refined is all icing. As is the low Co2 figure. Who would have thought, half a decade ago, that you’d be able to buy a fun, agile, revvy, gutsy Mini convertible and pay just €225 a year for road tax? Brilliant.

The electric folding hood is a good one, belying the need for a heavier, more complicated folding steel roof, providing as it does all the insulation and security you could reasonably ask for, at a fraction of the weight and complication and without the detrimental effect on styling. The little pop-up boot spoiler is a nice little gimmick, but rather a bit of a giveway to the law that you're pressing on, unless you remembered to flick the cockpit switch to raise it manually of course, officer.

It must be noted that the Roadster finds the Mini at something of a crossroads. A decade ago, we just had the standard three-door hatch in Cooper and Cooper S forms. Since then, the Mini family has grown from a sub-brand into a proper car maker in its own right, with the Clubman, Countryman, Roadster, Coupe, Convertible and forthcoming Paceman (a Countryman coupe of all things) all vying for space. BMW is currently working on the successor to the Mini, which will use a more versatile chassis that will allow, for the first time ever, the creation of a five-door version of the standard car. Hopefully, the current car's sense of simple, honest fun will transfer to the new one, as will its palpably good cabin quality, distinctive layout and pleasantly cheeky styling. A bigger boot would be nice, and please Mini, drop the Coupe altogether, OK?

Oh, but you can keep the Roadster. A nice little car, that.

Mini Cooper Roadster
Price as tested: €28,165
Range price: €25,660 to €58,860
Capacity: 1,598cc
Power: 122bhp
Torque: 160Nm
Top speed: 200kmh
0-100kmh: 9.2sec
Economy: 5.7-100km (49.6mpg)
CO2 emissions: 133g/km
Tax Band: B. €225 road tax
Euro NCAP rating: Not yet tested

Road Test: Subaru XV 2.0 TDS Premium

Sun, 2 Sep 2012 20:27:46 +0100

Price as tested: €34,995

+ Cracking engine, chunky good looks, good to drive, solid build, foul-weather ability, space
– Too-firm ride, pricey, some cheap cabin fittings
= Best new Subaru in ages, but price means it’ll struggle against rivals

You could have forgiven the average car buyer if Subaru had fallen off their radar in the past couple of years. Ever since its rally team, once equally feared and fearless, was pensioned off at the end of 2008, a little of the magic that once haloed the iconoclastic Japanese company had disappeared. Without those iconic blue-and-gold Imprezas bursting through forests with a McRae, a Burns or a Solberg at the wheel, Subaru’s sense of purpose seemed to be gone.

Sequential launches of two rather underwhelming cars didn’t help. The current Impreza hatch and Legacy saloon and estate are fine, or at least fine enough, but too obviously tilted towards Subaru’s largest market in the USA to be of particular interest over here. A shame; the previous generation Legacy had one of the most sympathetically-set-up chassis for Irish conditions that we’d ever experienced.

All that being the case though, Subaru us still capable of turning out a fine car. The Forester SUV is still providing rugged, practical transport to those who have discovered its charms and much of the Toyota GT86 coupe’s dynamic brilliance is down to Subaru, now part-owned by Toyota, being responsible for much of the engineering, being as the GT86 is paired with its own BRZ coupe.

Now, there’s this, the XV; a car that seeks to distill Subaru’s traditional combinations of rugged build, four wheel drive and driver appeal into a package designed to appeal to the Qashqai and yeti buying set.

Right off the bat, it’s off to a better start than either the Impreza (with which it shares most of its underpinnings) or the Legacy because it actually looks good. In fact, it’s the first truly handsome Subaru for a generation or more; chunky, appealing and distinctive, even in the rather washy baby blue paintwork of our test car.

Inside, things are not quite so good. The cabin can best be described as functional, and it lacks many of the soft-touch surfaces or design flourished of its rivals. A Yeti instantly leaves it in the shade for interior ambience, although it’s about on a par with the equally dour Qashqai, and at least both quality of assembly and space are there in abundance. There are also plenty of toys on this range-topping version, with a reversing camera, rain sensing wipers and Blutetooth wireless connection for both phone and music.

Twist the slightly-old-fashioned looking key and the familiar flat-four Boxer Diesel fires into life with a throaty whirr. Its 147bhp and 350Nm of torque seem fine, rather than exceptional figures these days, and its 146g/km Co2 emissions actually beats the Yeti when fitted with four wheel drive, but is trounced by the larger Mazda CX-5. Still, the Boxer is one of the few diesel engines with a true sense of character. It soon shrugs off a low-rpm diesel clatter for a more traditional Subaru woofle, underlaid with all manner of chirps, whistles and cheeps. Different, for sure, if not necessarily to all tastes. It’s easy, accessible performance should please though, as will a decent 6.4-litre per 100km fuel consumption.

Subaru does seem to have forgotten its old magic touch when setting up a car for Irish tarmac, though. The steering is the high point, dynamically speaking. A little numb around the straight-ahead, but becoming ever more garrulous as you apply lock. The XV certainly feels more up-and-at-’em than most of its rivals, and it’s a reasonably entertaining car to drive. Combine that with Subaru’s traditional all-wheel-drive that gives you a smug feeling of security even as rain-mageddon breaks out all around you, and you have a car seemingly ideal for Ireland and Irish drivers. A pity then that the ride is just too stiff, too ready to jiggle and bobble over rough surfaces. Surely with all that extra ride height a little more suppleness could have been found?

But the XV faces one final, possibly insurmountable, hurdle. Its price. OK, so our test car was the range-topping version and perhaps its €34,995 price tag can be explained purely from that point of view. But to place it just €1,000 cheaper than the entry-level (larger, more practical) Forester seems silly and the fact that an entry-level XV costs €28,495, and with a petrol engine at that, seems closer to daft. In fairness to Subaru Ireland, it’s struggling with an unfavourable exchange rate with the Yen, but the unpalatable truth is that the Yeti or Qashqai beat it for value, as do larger rivals like the Mazda CX-5 and Ford Kuga.

Which is a shame. The XV is engaging to drive and has a personality that’s both distinct and charming. Given Subaru’s reputation for reliability and shrugging off even the very worst weather that the winter (or spring, or summer) can through at you, it would be a tempting prospect. But at that price level, it’s giving itself an uphill struggle for even committed Subaru fans, never mind more casual buyers.

Subaru XV 2.0 TDS Premium
Price: €34,995
Range price: €28,495 to €34,995
Capacity: 1,998cc
Power: 147bhp
Torque: 350Nm
Top speed: 198kmh
0-100kmh: 9.3sec
Economy: 5.6-100km (50.4mpg)
CO2 emissions: 146g/km
Tax Band: C. €330 road tax
Euro NCAP rating: 5-star; 86% adult, 90% child, 64% pedestrian, 86% safety assist

Road Test: Renault Grand Scenic 1.6 dCi Bose Edition

Fri, 24 Aug 2012 07:22:33 +0100

Price as tested: €17,500 (approx)

+ Looks good, spacious, comfy, punchy, cracking stereo
– Quite pricey, mushy steering
= Proves that MPVs don’t have to be a fun-free zone

You know that old cliche about buying a people carrier being the equivalent of social death? An admission that your youth is gone and your virility has crumbled to dust? I have felt the icy hand of that concept close to the hairs on the back of my neck. Once, a decade or more ago, I found my (still single and child-less) self in the car park of a major out of town driving centre driving a large, practical, mumsy people carrier. You should have heard the silent scream that went off in my head. It was quite something.

These days, things have changed somewhat. I’ve changed for a start. Married. Two kids. House in the ‘burbs. I can see now the appeal, even the necessity of a people carrier. People carriers have changed too. The Ford S-Max proved that a tall roof and seven seats was not inimical to driving enjoyment and others have at least attempted to follow suit.

And when the Renault Scenic Bose Edition rocked up on my driveway, it seemed to be almost purpose designed to appeal to me. With white coachwork set off by gorgeous (and faintly seventies in style) alloy wheels, the Scenic was looking pretty tasty for Soccer Mom transport. And that badge on the flank; Bose. Now, techie geek that I am, I know at first hand that no-one, and I do mean no-one, makes stereos quite like Bose. They may not have the whizz-bang design elements of some other hi-fis, but those deceptively simple grey and white boxes can provide sound like nothing else. Rich, warm, crisp, perfect. A family motor with that kind of sound system can really tickle my fancy.

Before we get to that though, there’s the small matter of the engine to deal with. Renault’s old range-topping 1.9 dCi diesel is now dead and it’s been replaced by this all-new 1.6-litre unit which matches the outgoing one for power with 130bhp yet manages just 114g/km on the Co2 emissions cycle and claims an average of 4.4-litres per 100km fuel consumption. Now, as is so often the case, that claim is pure bunkum and I managed to eke around 6.0-litres per 100km out of it, but that’s still not bad considering that a lot of that mileage was four-up with luggage and much of it was on the motorway. It’s also reasonably refined (especially at cruising speed, less so at low speeds) and pulls strongly. 0-100kmh in 11secs doesn’t sound too brisk, but it feels punchier than that through the gears.

Inside, thanks to the Bose Edition upgrades, the Scenic is looking better than ever before. The TFT digital instrument display is rather nice, and you can theoretically customise the display to your taste. I say theoretically because I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to do it. My six year old son did it in an instant, so I may hire him out as an aid to befuddled Scenic owners.

The seats, wrapped in an enticing mix of black leather and Alcantara, are really lovely, firmly supportive on a long run but with just enough of that classic Renault squidge to feel luxurious. Space is decent, but not exceptional. Kids will be more than happy in the middle row, but bulky child seats will eat quickly into the available space and adults will find the seats themselves a touch narrow. It’s a common failing amongst compact seven-seat MPVs, but it’s partly compensated for by a boot that’s a massive 564-litres if you keep the third-row seats folded into the floor. That’s one thing I do love about MPVs; that pleasant feeling of not having to plan the packing up. Just fling everything into the boot with gay abandon.

To drive, the Scenic is as it ever was; not great but not bad either. On first re-acquaintance, it still has the mushy steering and generous roll angles that it’s always had. Such things are anathema to the driving enthusiast, of course, but the payoff is a ride quality that soaks up all but the very worst excesses of Irish roads, so it’s an acceptable trade-off. Better yet, when the kids are asleep and your wife’s not paying attention, you’ll find that you can push through the mush and get the Scenic a bit more up and at ‘em in the corners. Do that, and you’ll find plenty of front end bite and also that the roll stops and holds pretty quickly. Once learned you’ll find that the Scenic can be hustled along quite nicely.

Now for the Bose bit. As far as I can tell, Bose’s contribution to the Scenic is just the front speakers. There were no Bose logos on the rear ones, and no indication that Bose has been tinkering with the internals of the standard-fit Renault stereo. Now, my standard stereo test (John Barry’s theme from Zulu, played LOUD) showed that the Scenic’s sound system is pretty terrific, but I had been expecting awesome. Perhaps the boomy, echo-y surrounds of a big monobox shape are just too much for even Bose to overcome? Or maybe the budget didn’t allow more than a few simple tweaks to the sound. Whatever, it’s still head and shoulders above a standard car stereo, just not quite the enveloping experience I had been hoping for.

Speaking of budgets, your own will have to be pretty generous. Clocking in at €32k (there is a cheaper 1.5 dCi Bose edition) makes the Scenic Bose pretty pricey for a family car. Far be it from me to make assumptions about other families’ finances, but I certainly couldn’t afford the repayments on that.

Which is a shame as the Scenic Bose strikes just about the ideal family car balance. It’s got all the big, spacious, comfy and practical stuff down pat. It’s decently economical and rides well. Yet, in the precise spec of our test car, it looked pretty cool, had an inviting interior, a kick-ass stereo and a modicum of driving fun in its chassis. Thank you, Renault, for proving that family motoring really can be a phrase, not a sentence. Just make it a bit more affordable next time, eh?

Renault Grand Scenic 1.6 dCi Bose Edition
Price: €32,390
Range price: €23,990 to €32,390
Capacity: 1,598cc
Power: 130bhp
Torque: 320Nm
Top speed: 183kmh
0-100kmh: 11.1sec
Economy: 4.4-100km (62mpg)
CO2 emissions: 114g/km
Tax Band: A. €160 road tax
Euro NCAP rating: 5-star; 91% adult, 76% child, 42% pedestrian, 99% safety assist

Road Test: Skoda Rapid 1.2 TSI

Wed, 22 Aug 2012 14:22:45 +0100

Price as tested: €17,500 (approx)

+ Sweet engine, space, quality, crisp styling, price
– Bumpy suspension, plain interior
= A simpler Skoda than of late, a return to the brand’s roots

The new Rapid, named unselfconsciously for the old rear-engined Skoda saloon of the eighties (as well as other, more venerable Skoda models) represents a slight, but significant, change of tack for the Czech firm. In recent years, Skodas have become ever more sophisticated, and their prices have risen to reflect this. Step into a Superb saloon or a Yeti crossover, and you are confronted with interiors and equipment that are easily the equal of any Audi or Mercedes.

The Rapid, while not a backward step, draws more from Skoda's more utilitarian past. While it retains a level of sophistication appropriate to a modern Volkswagen group car, it feels like a simpler, more straightforward car.

And, thankfully for those of us looking at vastly reduced car buying budgets, its price will reflect that. A basic Rapid, fitted oxymoronically with a 75bhp 1.2-litre petrol engine, will cost around €15,995 when it goes on sale in November, and that price will include electronic stability control.

The Rapid also represents a subtle shift in the centre of gravity in the Skoda range. Until now, the Octavia had been Skoda's core model; a rival to the Ford Focus in price and demeanour, even if its physical size drifted closer to the likes of the Mondeo. The Rapid is more obviously Focus-sized, albeit narrower than the norm for the class, and its arrival will allow the new Octavia, due next year, to grow in size and luxury to be a true Mondeo rival. The larger Superb will get even bigger again next time around, close to BMW 5 Series size. The Rapid, Skoda expects, will shortly become its second-best selling model after the Octavia, sold globally and the spearhead of a massive renewal of the Skoda range. New or facelifted models will be launched every six months over the next few years as Skoda seeks to double its current sales.

Mechanically, the Rapid reflects the idea that it is meant to be a simpler, more affordable car. Instead of being based on the VW Group's high-tech new MQB platform, it uses a mixture components, some lifted from the current Polo and Jetta. That means a straightforward torsion bar rear suspension, which allows the Rapid to have a truly cavernous 550-litre boot, but also means that you'll feel a lot more of the road surface than you would in some rival cars. The boot also has quite a long drop over the loading lip down to the floor; not a problem when putting things in, but it could prove awkward when reaching in to extract heavier items. The rest of the Rapid's cabin is very well-executed, with high quality (although noticeably not soft-touch) surfaces and clear, bright instruments. Rear legroom and headroom are excellent but you'll notice that the cabin is quite narrow, and larger passengers will occasionally clonk elbows, and the front armrest frequently gets in the way of your elbow when changing gear.

As with the Ford Focus 1.0-litre Ecoboost we tested recently, the Rapid also offers a compelling reason to switch back from diesel to petrol power, especially if your average mileage is relatively low. The 85bhp 1.2 TSI turbo petrol engine (which should roughly split the difference between the basic model and the bigger-selling 1.6 TDI 105bhp diesel's circa €19,000 price tag) feels lively, spins eagerly and sounds crisp and sharp to the ear. Its fuel consumption figures hover around the 55mpg mark (which seems achievable) and its 119g/km Co2 rating means it matches, for now, the diesel in terms of motor tax.

If the Rapid has a failing it's in that low-cost suspension setup. We've been spoiled ever since the launch of the original 1998 Ford Focus by family cars that ride and handle with increasing sophistication and precision. The Rapid is not by any means a bad car to drive, but the way the rear suspension constantly jiggles and jitters over poor surfaces is annoying. On a smoother road, with smooth driver inputs, the Rapid begins to feel more fluent and it settles into an enjoyable rhythm, but you're never going to drive it for the sheer pleasure of it.

No matter, reckons Skoda; this is a car aimed squarely at cost-conscious families and in that regard it squares up excellently. That tempting entry price (albeit for an engine what will likely prove underpowered, especially if you're using the Rapid's 500-odd-kg payload) will be sufficient for many, but the Rapid's other qualities (space, comfort, Band A & B emissions, Skoda's excellent reliability reputation) should also prove deal-sealers. The fact that, although a hatchback, it looks like a four-door saloon and its simple, rugged nature will also doubtless appeal to more traditional Irish car buying minds. Mind you, it's worth pointing out that Seat will shortly be launching a new Toledo, mechcanically identical to the Rapid, and likely close on price too. Nothing like a bit of sibling rivalry...

While the Rapid is pretty much an innovation-free zone, Skoda has kept up its reputation for leaving in some small, pleasant touches. An ice-scraper tucked into the fuel filler cap for one, a phone and music player interface front and centre on the dashboard (not tucked awkwardly away as many rivals do) for another. Small touches, but they add up.

And in a quiet way, it's stylish. It won't draw eyeballs like a Lamborghini, but the new corporate Skoda 'face' (deep-set headlamps either side of a discreetly-chrome-ringed, wing-shaped grille) is handsome and the rest of the Rapid, although plain, looks pleasingly chiselled and chunky.

From the perspective of the road test writer, the Rapid is a tough car to get especially wound up about. There is no screaming V12 engine, nor cutting-edge battery or hybrid technology to rhapsodise about. Nor is there curvaceous styling or razor sharp chassis responses.

But speaking for a moment as a car buyer and a family man living on a budget, it's very appealing. Spacious, solid, pleasant and affordable. In that sense, you could easily see it pleasing a great many buyers.

Skoda Rapid 1.2 TSI
Price: €17,500 (approx)
Range price: €15,995 to TBA (approx)
Capacity: 1,197cc
Power: 85bhp
Torque: 160Nm
Top speed: 183kmh
0-100kmh: 11.8sec
Economy: 5.1-100km (55.3mpg)
CO2 emissions: 119g/km
Tax Band: A. €160 road tax
Euro NCAP rating: Not yet tested

Road Test: Lexus GS450h F-Sport

Fri, 3 Aug 2012 16:15:04 +0100

Price as tested: €72,950

+ Drivetrain, refinement, comfort, chassis balance, quality
– Silly grille, numb steering
= The best hybrid we’ve yet driven

Here’s a funny thing. Lexus can’t tell me how much torque the new GS450h has. Nerdy fact that it is, a healthy torque figure is deeply significant for driving both relaxed and invigorating. A lack of torque is inimical to fun and lots of it gives you that lovely, deep-down thumpy feeling as you accelerate hard out of a tight corner. It’s what makes American V8s so addictive and its absence is what makes small petrol engines such hard work. Normally you just look up the figure, either in Newton-Metres (Nm) or foot-pounds (lb-ft) in a car’s technical data list. And it’s not that the GS has no torque; quite the opposite. You can feel its presence every time you tap the throttle.

The thing is that the GS450h, a hybrid as was its predecessor and almost every other Lexus, draws its torque from two sources. A 3.5-litre V6 petrol with 352Nm and an electric motor with 275Nm. Add the two together and you get a fairly tyre-shredding 627Nm or about what you’d get from a 1970s Can Am racer...

It’s not that simple though, says Lexus and I seriously doubt that the GS ever gets the full combined 627Nm or the rear Bridgestones wouldn’t be long for this world. Instead, the fearsomely clever computer management system (which can presumably calculate lunar orbit trajectories and file your tax returns) juggles and apportions the power and torque outputs of the two motors until you have an essentially seamless whole.

Now, hybrids have been criticised in the past, and frequently on these pages, for not being up to snuff. The idea of backing up a downsized petrol engine with an electric motor seems entirely sensible and effective, but never in the past have we driven a hybrid that either lived up to its fuel economy claims or gave us much in the way of driving pleasure. (The Honda CR-Z gets a by here because it’s fun in spite of being a hybrid.) The old GS450h was fun enough in a straight-line, drags-strip kind of way, its combination of petrol and electric grunt sufficient to hurl it up the road in a most uneconomical fashion, but it felt a bit lead-footed in handling terms and its economy and emissions were soon out-classed by the new hordes of hyper-efficient diesels.

This GS then, has rather a lot to prove, both as a hybrid and as a car. Can a hybrid ever match or beat the latest diesels in economy and emissions terms? Can Lexus produce a truly convincing challenger to the likes of the BMW 5 Series?

Well, you certainly can’t accuse Lexus of keeping its light under a bushel this time around. The new GS, when seen from the back and side is crisply handsome and subtly muscular. And that new grille, with its chrome fangs? Well, I can certainly see what Lexus was trying to do – to inject both distinctiveness and aggression, but for my money it just doesn’t work. It look inelegant and a bit OTT. A shame.

There’s better news on the inside though, where the previous GS’s slight sense of clunkiness is banished by a very slick and stylish cabin, with beautifully simple, clear instruments, a big central screen for controlling the infotainment and HVAC systems and a distinctly inviting sense of comfort and style. The seats a big, comfy and supportive. The space in the rear seats is excellent. I love the way that, when you push the Sport button, the instruments switch from a charging metre to a red-lit rev counter.

Way out back, boot space has dramatically improved. In the last GS, the hybrid system’s batteries ate so deeply into the luggage room that you were left with a narrow slot that wouldn’t hold very much at all. Now, thanks to better packaging, there’s a decent (if not class leading) 482-litres. That’s better.

Slip behind the wheel and push the starter button and there’s the usual hybrid car silence as the batteries take the strain for the initial few metres. When the 3.5-litre 292bhp petrol V6 engine comes to life, you’ll struggle to notice it. The usual Lexus superlatives of refinement and noise suppression apply.

Where that V6 really makes itself felt and heard is when you accelerate hard. We’ve become so used, over the past few years, to big executive cars being exclusively diesel-powered, so the crisp, sharp-edged snarl of the GS’s engine as it passes 4,000rpm (the point at which most diesels just give up and go home) is as refreshing as lemon zest and just as tasty. Combined with the batteries and electric bits, it makes for a very satisfying drivetrain to use, probably the best hybrid we’ve ever tried. There never seems to be a gap in the power, or a step when one system or the other dominates. The CVT gearbox doesn’t seem to suffer from the same problems that afflict over continously variable ‘boxes, such as letting the engine needlessy blare its head off at high rpm when accelerating. And it’s decently economical too. Lexus claims 6.0-litres per 100km on the combined cycle, which you probably won’t get near, but we averaged mid-sevens and that’s about what you’d get out of a comparable 3.0-litre diesel. Impressive.

Impressive too that emissions have been kept down to a Band B-friendly 139g/km, so you can match a BMW 520d buyer for tax smugness while matching a 535d for performance. That’s quite a combination, and it’s nice to notice how often the car automatically kicks into EV mode, not just when cruising around town, but also on the open road. It makes you feel like it was worth going down the hybrid route, even if in reality, a constantly-running diesel is little less efficient.

Our F-Sport spec test car came with option four-wheel-steering, and eighties Japanese obsession that seems to be making something of a comeback. I can honestly say that, in spite of trying, I could never actually feel the rear wheels doing anything much, but there’s no doubting that the GS felt unusually agile and chuckable for such a big car. A shame that the steering is too remote and distant for you to truly enjoy punting it along, but there’s no doubt that a pretty terrific chassis dwells beneath; an achievement made even more impressive when you remember that the GS’s is still packing the extra weight of all those batteries. Impressive too that the ride quality is generally excellent, only occasionally feeling too firm and mostly just cosseting nicely.

At €72,950, the F-Sport’s rear-steer and sporty bodykit and wheels may seem a bit of an extravagance over the cost of a €59,950 Executive model, but there’s no doubt that for the first time, Lexus has really hit the 5 Series market dead-on. It won’t be to the tastes of the me-too hordes who will only ever buy German at this price level, but here at least is a hybrid that’s a frugal as it should be and as invigorating to drive as you’d hope. Here is a Lexus of true character and enjoyment, as well as the expected quality and refinement.

Lexus GS450h F-Sport
Price: €72,950
Range price: €59,950 to €76,250
Capacity: 3,456cc
Power: 345bhp
Torque: See text
Top speed: 250kmh
0-100kmh: 5.9sec
Economy: 6.0-100km (47.0mpg)
CO2 emissions: 139g/km
Tax Band: B. €225 road tax
Euro NCAP rating: Not yet tested

Road Test: BMW 640d Gran Coupe M-Sport

Wed, 1 Aug 2012 14:32:28 +0100

Price as tested: €120,033

+ Gorgeous, balanced chassis, mighty engine, comfort, economy, noise
– Nothing much
= Makes you feel like Batman. No higher recommendation.

Much as I foolishly did when I first drove the new BMW 6 Series convertible, I came to the Gran Coupe with some unfortunate preconceptions. Too big. Too bloated. Too much of a plutocrat barge for this day and age. A €100k car in 2012 Ireland? C'mon, that's like €30k more than Audi asks for the A7 or Mercedes wants for a CLS. Etc etc. And so on.But, just as I did with the cabrio, I (spoiler alert) came away utterly loving the car. Which just goes to prove two things. One, never underestimate BMW and, two, review the car on the road, not the car in your head...

So, what is a Gran Coupe? Well, it's the latest in a burgeoning line of car makers either adding extra doors to existing two-door coupes or chopping the rooflines of existing saloons to create saloon-coupe hybrids. The idea is to create cars with the looks and panache of coupes with most of the easy-access practicality of saloons. Thus the afforementioned CLS and A7 but also the A5 Sportback, the Volkswagen CC and sundry others currently in development.

In the specific case of the Gran Coupe, BMW has taken the standard 6 Series shell, given it a 113mm wheelbase stretch (taking to just beyond the 5-metre long mark) and crammed in a couple of extra doors. The result is a long, low wide chop-top that manages to avoid looking like a 6 Series that's turned back, Cinderalla-at-midnight-style, into a 5 Series and is frankly, pretty gorgeous. Especially in the black of our test car, which in true Father Ted fashion, wasn't actually black at all but instead very, very, very, very, very dark blue. It's gorgeous and I'm going to shut up now and just let you go and look at the photos.

Done? Good, then I'll continue...

Behind the sharks-nose grille and lights likes the 40d diesel engine, actually a 3.0-litre straight-six with twin sequential turbos – a development of the engine we've been familiar with for many years in the 535d and the old 635d. Now, it comes with some interesting figures. 313bhp is a good start but 630Nm of torque is even better again and those are combined with a 5-odd-secs 0-100kmh, claimed 50mpg fuel economy and 148g/km of Co2. That is frankly a remarkable set of figures and proof once again that BMW's chief engine designer is actually a Mr. Potter, a youthful man with glasses who displays his diploma from Hogwarts with quiet pride.

It's a truly stunning engine to be in control of, so much so that it eclipses the more headline-grabbing 560bhp petrol V8 from the M5 in my mind. Power arrives in a near-silent rush from below 1,500rpm, shunting the 630d forward in a manner that suggests that the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe express has derailed and smacked you, silently, up the backside. The engine only makes you aurally aware of it at higher rpm, where instead of a diesel rattle, you get a creamy, slightly rough-edged snarl. It's lovely. And addictive. Rather like cream itself.

As for economy, well almost needless to say we couldn't match BMW's claimed figure but our average, which hovered in the mid-sevens in terms of litres burned per 100km traveled (a solid 45mpg-ish) still seemed pretty good, and if we also failed to match BMW's claimed touring range of 1,300km, then a solid 8-900km still seems achievable.

Inside, in spite of the Gran Coupe's extra length, the cabin still feels intimate and tight fitting. The dash and centre console seem to bulge and swoop almost organically around the driver, allowing you to settle deep within the car, wheel pointing straight at your chest. The standard leather trim is gorgeous and inviting and the seats prove endlessly comfortable, something the old-shape 6 Series missed out on.

In the back, while it's not surprisingly not as commodious as a 5 Series, the Gran Coupe is absolutely fine for both head and legroom and unless you're the star player for your local basketball team, you should be able to get very comfy. That practicality is backed up by a 460-litre boot which should be adequate for most purposes.

To drive, that stretch in the wheelbase seems only to have improved the dynamics relative to the standard 6 coupe. Not that the standard car is lacking in any sense but just that the Gran Coupe seems to give you a wider range of options. Selecting comfort from the little toggle switch by the gear selector for the excellent 8-speed automatic transmission seems to be the best option for Irish roads. Sport is fine and won't knock your fillings out, but Comfort just gives you that extra little sense of flex that turns tackling an Irish back road from a chore to a delight. In spite of its size, the Gran Coupe can be cornered on a pin and placed to within millimetres of your desired trajectory. The steering, in any of the four modes, is always a little bit wooly and artificial feeling (something not helped by BMW's continuing insistence on fitting its M-Sport specced cars with fat, over-stuffed steering wheel rims) but the reactions of the chassis itself are wonderfully well balanced and its these that you learn to exploit, and never mind the faintly disappointing steering.

I had expected many things of the Gran Coupe, few of them good. Given the massive extra expense it asks buyers to stretch too relative to an Audi A7 or Mercedes CLS, I was certain ahead of the fact that BMW was overstretching itself, and I remain convinced that the Mercedes actually has the better sorted chassis. But the Gran Coupe, thanks in no small part to its wonderful engine, is actually a star performer and goes so far to justifying its lofty six-figure price tag that you almost begin to forgive the expense. Fabulous to drive, irrepressibly grunty and bewitching to look at, it may be a niche within a niche but that's a niche I'd happily squeeze myself into.

Actually, on a final note, the best drive I had in the Gran Coupe was not up some twisting coast road (although I did do that and it was fabulous) but a gentle 50-60km pootle to my local cinema and back. The Dark Knight Rises, the new Batman film was on, and comic book nut that I am I simply couldn't resist. Coming back out after nearly three hours of Bat-tastic Batmanery and plipping the lock on the low, dark, glowering Gran Coupe felt just perfect, and for the briefest of moments, I was Bruce Wayne. And that might just be the moment at which the Gran Coupe's price tag begins to look worth it...

BMW 640d Gran Coupe M-Sport
Price as tested: €120,033
Price range: €97,110 to €131,520
Capacity: 2,993cc
Power: 313bhp
Torque: 630Nm
Top speed: 250kmh
0-100kmh: 5.4sec
Economy: 5.6l-100km (50.4mpg)
CO2 emissions: 148g/km
Road Tax Band: C €330
Euro NCAP rating: Not yet tested

Road Test: Fiat 500L 1.3 MultiJet Pop Star

Thu, 26 Jul 2012 13:15:18 +0100

Price as tested: €22,000 (approx)

+ Masses of cabin space, cute styling, good quality, well priced
– Only ordinary to drive
= Could be the best all-round Fiat yet

There is one caveat that needs to be observed for all that follows. Italian car launches are notoriously difficult things to actually assess a car on. Our time with the new 500L was relatively brief, and most of the mileage was in the tight, urban confines of downtown Turin. And we got lost, which never helps. So, now that you’re aware of all that, we can begin...

Fiat is in bad need of a big hit. Hmmm. I seem to have written those words before, five years ago, just before the Italians launched the little 500, the sales of which pulled the company back from the financial abyss.

Now though, while the abyss is not so deep as it was in 2006 and Fiat is not teetering on the edge of it (thanks to its finances being well and truly pumped up by a resurgent Chrysler), sales are falling in its European heartlands and with investment being reduced and factories being shut down, Turin needs a new sprinkling of the 500's magic.

And this, the 500L, is the car Fiat hopes will revive its European fortunes. Although it carries the 500 name, it's actually only distantly mechanically related to the chic city car. It's a 4.15-metre long MPV, styled to looks closer to an SUV and with a simply massive cabin for stuffing your family into. When they say the L stands for Large, they really weren't kidding. the 500L towers over a tiny 500 hatch, and there's sufficient cabin space for a six-footer to have genuine lounging space in the back seats. Honestly, space in the back makes a mockery of almost every rival I can think of. A Focus, Golf or Astra feels ridiculously tight in comparison and even such other high-roofed competition as the Citroen C3 Picasso and Opel Meriva don’t have the legroom to compete.

The fact that the cabin also looks and feels of very high quality indicates that Fiat is still pushing well along the road to eradicating its old reputation for fragility, however difficult it may be to unstick that impression from Irish minds. All the surfaces inside have a pleasingly hefty, yet silky, feel and as long as you specify some of the brighter colour options, it feels like a warm, welcoming place to be. The steering wheel, slightly squared off as it is in the new Panda, feels especially good and the complex, three-movement exterior door handles do a great job of making the car feel techie and interesting just by yanking the door open.

While Irish specs have yet to be decided (and a circa €22,000 price for the 1.3 MultiJet diesel model has still to be agreed) there will be an awful lot of high-end optional extra available, including a city safety self braking setup, a 1.5-metre long glass roof and a stereo designed by hip-hop legend Dr. Dre (ask your kids...) and even an in-car Lavazza espresso maker that slots into one of the cupholders. Yes, really. You have to tick the options box for this, really, you do. We all thought it was a late April fool when we saw the press release...

Standard features include a 5" touch-screen infotainment system with Bluetooth connection for your phone and music player and an EcoDrive Live function that monitors your driving, admonishes you for being too profligate and which Fiat claims (somewhat implausibly) can save you up to 1,200-litres of fuel over the life of the car.

The rear seats fold and tumble with just a quick flick of a button and the 400-litre boot has an adjustable floor that allows you to segregate the shopping from the peat briquettes, or perhaps the laundry from the wet dog.

Our test car has the 85bhp 1.3 MultiJet diesel which boasts a 110g/km Co2 figure and better than 62mpg on average. But with only 200Nm of torque to haul around 1,300kg of 500 (and that's an empty kerb weight) it struggles to do anything to excite. It's a decent, engine, with good refinement but little verve and a rubbery five-speed manual gearbox doesn't help either. A 0-100kmh time of 14.9secs shows you how hard it’s having to work, but in fairness, it only rarely feels all that slow.

When the 500L arrives in Irish dealers at the end of the year, a 105bhp 1.6-litre diesel should be available and that will doubtless prove a better match. Petrol-heads, if any remain in Ireland, might be enticed by the 105bhp two-cylinder 112g/km TwinAir engine. We may not get the choice though, as Fiat Ireland is keen to keep the range as streamlined and simple as possible, so it might be that the only 500L we will get in Ireland will be this 1.3 Pop Star spec.

To drive, the 500L feels fine, but it lacks the quiet stolidness of a Skoda Yeti or the pin-sharp steering of a Mini Countryman. It's competent, capable and has nicely weighted steering and a good, if occasionally bobbly, ride quality but there are few causes for complaint here. Like the engine, it's safe but not really engaging.

Style-wise, it tries to take 500 design cues and inflate them to a much bigger size which, as Porsche found trying to translate a 911 coupe into a Cayenne SUV, isn't entirely successful. It looks good in certain colours, odd in others (beige is an especially bad choice) but certainly distinctive and different.

But it's that cavernous cabin that really sells the 500L. Families will love it for its sheer space, its brightness and its adaptability. Fold the front seat flat and you can fill the 500L with IKEA flat packs and still have space left for a driver and rear seat passenger while kids will have no trouble at all in filling the 22 interior pockets and cubbies. The fact that it seems on this encounter to be robustly built will mollify the worries of their parents.

Its sales prospects in Ireland depend entirely on whether enough Irish buyers are willing to look past their old prejudices about the brand. Nissan proved with the Qashqai that this was a serious possibility, and who a few years ago took either Hyundai or Kia seriously? Those willing to suspend disbelief long enough to try a 500L will find it an engaging proposal.

Fiat 500L 1.3 MultiJet Pop Star
Price as tested: €22,000 (approx)
Price range: TBA
Capacity: 1,248cc
Power: 85bhp
Torque: 200Nm
Top speed: n/a
0-100kmh: 14.9sec
Economy: 4.2l-100km (67.2mpg)
CO2 emissions: 110g/km
Road Tax Band: A €160
Euro NCAP rating: Not yet tested

Road Test: Dacia Duster 1.5 dCi 4x2 Alternative

Fri, 20 Jul 2012 16:50:41 +0100

Price as tested: €14,990

+ Almost stupidly affordable, surprisingly refined, spacious, comfy
– Feels a generation back, dynamically, lack of standard safety kit
= Refreshing and refreshingly affordable

Yup. €14,990. For a brand new car, that’s not a supermini (as most if not all cars priced around the €14k mark are) but a big(ish) compact SUV with space in the back for the kids (for the adults, come to that) and a big boot. It looks nice (I think so at any rate), drives tolerably well (see below) and, thanks to Dacia Ireland’s headline-grabbing introductory finance offer, will cost you buttons on the monthly repayments. At a stroke, it will bring many hundreds of cash-strapped car buyers back into the new car market, buyers who need the space and the size but, because of tightened finances, would otherwise be shopping in the second hand car market.

It’s called Duster, and it’s not the first car to wear that badge. Back in the eighties and early nineties, when Dacia was still just emerging from Communist overlordship, there was another Duster, a car so bad that the legendary Car magazine pithily summed it up with the phrase “Duster to dust, ashes to ashes, please someone, pass us the matches.” Presumably, things could not be so bad this time around...

Needless to say, as with all deals that look too good to be true, it is, in some ways. But the essential fact of the price, and of Dacia Ireland’s introductory offer that will allow you to finance one for €149 a month (including a €4k deposit and a €6k final ‘bubble’ payment), is undoubtedly true.

So, how is Dacia able to do it for the money? A little history first off. Dacia was for many years the Romanian national car company, producing vehicles under the rule of the much-reviled Communist leader Nicolae Ceaușescu. In that period, Dacia struck up a relationship with Renault, building a version of the old 12 saloon under licence – many of which can still be seen circulating the streets of Bucharest – a relationship that would eventually lead to Renault buying a majority stake in Dacia. The idea was, and is, that Dacia uses older Renault components whose investment has already been paid for, builds cars out of them in a low-cost environment behind the former Iron Curtain and flogs them to you and I at bargain prices, giving Renault a bulwark against the ever-encroaching Korean brands and the constant danger of the massed ranks of Chinese cheap car makers.

It’s a recipe that has worked rather wonderfully. Dacia and its various models have been well received in Europe and it’s currently the fourth best-selling brand in France. Its launch here has been somewhat delayed (the Duster itself has been on sale in Europe for two years already) but with that price tag, it could prove to be a canny move for Renault Ireland, catching buyers whose car purchasing power has been eroded by recession and cutbacks. Next year, once the Duster is properly on sale (you can test drive and order one right now but Irish-build right-hand-drive cars don’t arrive until January), there will be other Dacias, including the already-beloved Sandero hatchback (thank Top Gear’s James May for that one) and the Lodgy mini MPV. Presumably all at genre-defying prices too but that’s getting ahead of ourselves somewhat. We have the just the Duster to deal with for now.

For your supermini money, you do genuinely get a large family car. Not so tall and wide as to be intimidating in tight car parks and urban manouvres, but large enough to allow one six-footer to sit comfortably behind another and with a spacious 475-litre boot (as long as you stick to the front wheel drive models).

Those expecting a poverty spec cabin will be surprised. The left-hand-drive version we tried had a perfectly pleasant interior, and the good news is that by the time Irish right-hand-drive production reaches these shores in January, the cabin will have been given an upgrade to make its touchy-feely quality even more appealing. You still get electric front windows, fingertip stereo controls (familiar for anyone who’s ever driven a mid-nineties Clio) and Bluetooth connection for your phone, with an aux-in socket for your iPod. All surprisingly sybaritic.

What you don’t get are electric side mirrors (you need to upgrade to the €16,990 Signature model for those, which will set you back roughly an extra €20 a month on the finance plan), alloy wheels, seatbelt pretensioners, air conditioning, a trip computer, rear electric windows or map lights (ditto). More worryingly, Electronic stability control doesn’t even appear as an option, and is only fitted to the range-topping €18,990 Signature 4WD model. Irish buyers tend to be pretty immune to a lack of safety options. Back when ABS brakes were still considered an option, we tended to spend the same cash on sunroofs or nicer alloys. Presumably so, few will notice or miss the inclusion of ESP, at least until they get into difficulties on a wet road, but such has always been the spec-blindness of the Irish car buyer. Quite what we should make of Dacia being happy to chuck in Bluetooth, electric windows and fingertip stereo controls, while leaving such vital safety kit on the pricey shelf is not clear yet. Buyers of course have the choice and the option to upgrade is there, but what price safety?

That range-topping 4WD model comes with, obviously all-wheel-drive, switchable from a simple rotary controller on the dash, and which gives the Duster a decent bit of rough ground, dirt track and ploughed field ability, and it this form it starts to feel a touch like a Land Rover Defender. Not in terms of ultimate off-road capability, of course, but the plain, unadorned cabin, upright driving position and sense of ruggedness are similar. The Duster’s a damn sight more refined on the road though...

Behind the bluff nose of the Duster sits Renault’s tried and tested 1.5 dCi diesel engine in 110bhp form. Fitted to a 2WD Duster, it returns a claimed 5.0-litres per 100km on the combined fuel economy cycle (better than 55mpg, which we got nowhere near on our brief test drive, but then it was in a car with barely-run-in mileage) and emits 130g/km, so will cost you just €225 to tax for the moment. Impressively, the 4WD model’s figures are only slightly poorer, and it’s still in Band B. It comes as standard with a three-year warranty, but you can upgrade to five-year cover.

Surprisingly, it won’t rattle your ears off. The first casualty of cheap car design is usually refinement, but the Duster idles quietly, is only mildly noisy on the motorway and shouts excessively only if you give it the beans in the rather short-geared first or second ratios. On other than main roads, the Duster does its best work shunting between third and fourth in the six-speed gearbox, although its rubbery shift mechanism will discourage you from getting too enthusiastic.

Dynamically, the Duster is hardly what you’d call sharp, but neither does it display the dreadful manners that its bargain bucket price would have you suspect. The steering is light, over-assisted and entirely fake feeling, but the nose does follow its instructions with reasonable faithfulness. There’s lots of body roll, but the trade off for that is a pleasingly pliant ride, and the Duster is quite happy being hustled along country roads, as long as you don’t get too optimistic with the cornering speeds. Mind you, overcook things and the reassuringly firm brakes mean you pull up smart and straight in an emergency stop. Basically, the Duster is happiest when loping along, and it feels entirely pleasant in that role.

So, the ultimate question beckons. Should you buy one? Well, given the fact that it’s around €10,000 less than its direct competitors, you’d be a bit mad not to at least consider it, and it certainly doesn’t feel like it’s packing €10k less when it comes to quality, dynamics or practicality. Yes, the likes of the Skoda Yeti and Nissan Qashqai have a much deeper varnish of sophistication, and come with things like air conditioning and electronic stability control as standard. If you’re happy doing without such things (or you’re equally happy to upgrade to a more expensive Duster that has them, which is still significantly cheaper than its rivals) then it’s a car well worthy of your consideration. It feels not cheap and cheerless but rather rugged and utilitarian, a significant distinction. It’s a simple, practical device, a car ideally suited to the rigours of family use and abuse (that lack of standard ESP notwithstanding) and you certainly won’t care if the kids spill, the dog sheds or the ice cream leaks.

Introducing the Duster at such a startling price is a remarkable calling card for Dacia’s debut. If the Duster proves popular, then Dacia’s more established rivals will have to do some serious pruning of their price lists.

Dacia Duster 1.5 dCI 4x2 Alternative
Price as tested: €14,990
Price range: €14,990 to €18,990
Capacity: 1,461cc
Power: 107bhp
Torque: 240Nm
Top speed: 171kmh
0-100kmh: 11.8sec
Economy: 5.0l-100km (56mpg)
CO2 emissions: 130g/km
Road Tax Band: B €225
Euro NCAP rating: 3-star; 74% adult, 78% child, 28% pedestrian, 29% safety assist

Road Test: Peugeot 208 1.4 HDI Active

Wed, 11 Jul 2012 12:31:54 +0100

Price as tested: €18,795

+ Looks, sense of quality, comfort, refinement, classiness
– Steering a touch mushy
= As chic and pleasant as a French hatch should be

As with all offspring, the new Peugeot 208 has some substantial shoes to fill, but oddly enough, those shoes belong to its grandfather, not its father, so to speak. From 1998, the Peugeot 206 was a roaring success for the rampant Lion, with more than 30,000 sold in Ireland alone in its lifetime, and millions more across Europe and the world. But its successor, the heavy, rather turgid 207 lagged behind. Way behind, shifting just 9,000-odd units in Ireland. Why? Well, odd styling didn’t help but the 207 also missed out on the crucial 1.0-1.2-litre ‘second car’ market (its smallest engine was a 1.4 and that was hardly a ball of fire), a segment that the 206 more or less made its own.

Now though, despite Peugeot itself being beset with falling European sales, financial woes and seeking changes in French law to help it climb out of its current crisis, the French are hitting back hard with the new 208, a car that seeks to reclaim the chic, small, sexy ground that was once the 206’s natural home.

Looks nice, doesn’t it? A touch snub-nosed, perhaps, but neat and neatly detailed. A little colour sensitive (please, please avoid the awful pink champagne metallic) but classy and stylish in a dark hue, or even white. The three door model even has a stylistic nod to the long beloved eighties Peugeot 205, with a small oval badge set into the c-pillar.

Inside, things look very, very different to what went before. In the 207, you got comfy seats but a massive fascia that seemed to eat unnecessarily into cabin space and cheap main dials that looked distinctly aftermarket. Almost nothing from the 207 then (or any other Peugeot model for the that matter) is carried over into the 208. All the switchgear is new, the centre-console mounted touch-screen looks nice (and is standard on all but the most basic model) and then there’s the steering wheel. Now, we’ve criticised Peugeots in the past for having massive, bulky steering wheels unbecoming of cars with a sporting mien. The RCZ coupe, without the optional Sport pack, was a particular offender. But the 208’s wheel is tiny, looking more like the wheel you get with a PlayStation driving game than one attached to an actual car. The main instruments (which are very handsome indeed and have more than a whiff of Audi about them) are actually mounted above the rim of the wheel.

Now, that sounds like a recipe for feeling that you’re sitting with the steering wheel resting on your knees, but actually, thanks to a broad range of adjustment for both wheel and seat, it only takes a moment to adjust to the new layout and once done, it feels entirely natural. The wheel itself feels really pleasant to hold; small and sporty rather than tiny and flimsy.

Sadly, it’s not attached to Peuegot’s best ever steering rack; the electrically assisted system is quick and accurate, but lacking almost entirely in road feel. It’s not bad, just not much fun. Which is a shame, because the rest of the chassis is very game indeed, resisting understeer well, cornering sharply, and best of all; riding with a comfy, controlled compliance that leaves your backside and spine in glorious isolation. Bravo Peugeot, for resisting the temptation to bolt stiff springs and dampers for a faux-sporty feel. As ever, what is done for ride, when done well, is also good for handling.

For the rest, the cabin is spacious and comfy, the boot large and square and the overall levels of fit, finish and quality seem excellent. A shame that Peugeot hasn’t seen fit to extend its standard three year warranty to compete with the Koreans, but I guess you can’t have everything.

The engine in our test car was Peugeot’s familiar 1.4 HDI diesel with 68bhp and it’s a fine, if unremarkable, engine. It’s decently quiet for a diesel in small car, and Peugeot bucks the industry trend for such vehicles, expecting to sell almost half of all its 208s in Ireland with oil burners, rather than the more usual petrol-heavy ratio of competitors. It certainly gives the 208 some hefty mid-range punch (160Nm of torque in a car weighing just 1,050kg – some 110kg lighter than the old 207) will do that, and if you can match the claimed 3.8-litres per 100km fuel economy claim, you should be able to stretch to well over 1,000km between refills.

That said, it’s likely that the lighter, more high-tech 1.0 and 1.2-litre petrol engines will be the stars of the range though, with their light weights helping to give the 208 a more agile, rev-happy feel, but we’ll have to wait a few more months to get a taste of the petrol burners here.

Price-wise, the 208 undercuts most of its major opposition with a starting price of €14,495 for the 1.0 petrol 3-door, and out five-door diesel test car weighed in at €18,795 including cruise control and speed limiter (standard on all models), the touchscreen controller with Bluetooth phone integration and media player, 15” alloys and air conditioning. Decent value for money, that.

Peugeot’s problem will be that, while the 207 was underperforming, the 208’s rivals were doubling from just 16 similar others in 2001 to 27 now, with hefty competition not just from ‘traditional’ models like the Ford Fiesta, VW Polo and Toyota Yaris, but also hard-charging new comers like the Kia Rio and Chevrolet Aveo.

That the 208 is good enough to take them all on, on equal terms is without question. It’s a match for the Polo in quality terms, the Yaris in comfort and the Fiesta (almost) dynamically and much more stylish than the Koreans. Will it be enough to put the 208 back on the 206’s podium step? We’ll see...

Peugeot 208 1.4 HDI Active
Price as tested: €19,795
Price range: €14,495 to TBA
Capacity: 1,368cc
Power: 68bhp
Torque: 160Nm
Top speed: 160kmh
0-100kmh: 15.6sec
Economy: 3.8l-100km (74mpg)
CO2 emissions: 98g/km
Road Tax Band: A €160
Euro NCAP rating: 5-star; 88% adult, 78% child, 61% pedestrian, 83% safety assist