And the prize for most prizes goes to…
It’s good, but six months in the 3008 hasn’t convinced us it’s Europe’s best car. By Anthony rench-Constant
EVEN AS WE say arrivederci to the 3008, it continues to baffle me by winning awards seemingly for little more than being a lot like a Nissan Qashqai except a bit better. It has also picked up a few awards in the ff-C household, although none of them perhaps especially plaque-worthy. The Grayson Perry Award for paint that the missus instantly dismissed as ‘turd-like’, for instance. Then there’s the U-Boat Award for klaxoning the driver’s ears off should you dare open the door with engine running and handbrake off. And of course there’s the Aloe Vera Award for seat heaters which cluster all their energy into a small molten lava patch under the lower thigh.
We shouldn’t forget the Despicable Audi-Driving Toe-rag Award for the fastest wound ever administered unto a long-term test car; the Princess and the Pea Award for a seat cushion that six months of 16 stone has failed to subjugate; the Driving a Supertanker with a Shirt Button Award for the tiny steering wheel; and the Chris Evans Award for the relentless annoyance of having to rummage through the touchscreen menus to turn off the stop/ start system.
In truth that latter feature is not quite as annoying as the Citroën C3 Aircross I’ve recently driven, in which the lane departure warning system must be switched off (press and hold the button) nd every single time the car is switched on. But it comes close.
I’m all in favour of such systems being available for those who are too busy texting, eating and talking to drive in a straight line unaided. But since when has it become the engineer’s decision, rather than the driver’s, to decide which driving aids should be allowed to automatically interfere with your genitalia’s enjoyment of a scalding-hot Ginsters filling?
Anyway. Thing is, as an SUV competing in a ludicrously overcrowded segment at a reasonable price, the 3008 makes a respectable fist of things. I remain unconvinced it’s worthy of the title European Car of the Year, but perhaps it was Peugeot’s turn...
The missus has never rubbed along with it, which is odd given that she tolerated the tediously hum-drum Qashqai without recourse to a vulgar nickname. I have become more ambivalent over the last six months, my verdict steering a wavering course midway between COTY and WTF (...is that all about, then?).
The positives include the ride quality, the 1.2-litre engine, the centre console design and the dog-friendly boot space.
Among the negatives are the front-seat comfort, the vicious little clutch, the speed at which the windscreen wash reservoir empties itself, and the dozy rain-sensing wipers and auto lights.
And somewhere between the two there’s the handling, which isn’t particularly good or bad, but mustn’t be hurried, and the fuel consumption – not great, but you suspect it could easily top 40mpg if it wasn’t so enjoyable to rev that sweet, eager little three-cylinder engine.