TICKETY BOO
Seat’s new compact SUV dispels my nervous habit for this…
IT’S got to the stage where the words “compact SUV” make me tic.
It’s not quite full-blown Tourettes where I shout something totally inappropriate…more an involuntary facial spasm.
You know, the sort of thing most people do when they smell someone else’s digestive gases. It’s a sneer combined with a brief grimace.
A translation of “compact SUV” means this: “We’ve ruined a perfectly decent small hatchback to turn it into a pretend off-roader by heightening its centre of gravity and fitting unsuitably large wheels and tyres, just because that’s the fashion of the moment and it’s what everyone wants.”
The phrases “active lifestyle” or, coming to think of it, just plain old “lifestyle” trigger a similar response in me. So it’s doubly unfortunate that these trite marketing terms often appear in parallel with the advertising of compact SUVs.
Maybe my life is lacking urban adventures. Perhaps I should be street kayaking more often or something. Dammit. My tic’s back.
But I had something of an epiphany this week, up in Manchester. It wasn’t just the city (which you must visit by the way), it was the car I was there to drive.
The new Seat Ateca (pronounced Attecka) is named after a town in Catalonia in case you were wondering.
What would you know? It’s a compact SUV but here’s the rub – it’s a compact SUV that didn’t make me tic.
For Seat, the new Ateca’s a big gig. Up until now Seat has really been about just two cars – Leon and Ibiza. Considering the width and length of parent company VW’s product range, that’s been a bit like corporate wing-clipping.
Now with the Ateca, Seat can get stuck into the (shudders) SUV market, one of the biggest segments in UK motoring.
I wanted to hate it. I really did. I wanted it to roll around corners like a half full bathtub on stilts. I wanted it to crash annoyingly over poor surfaces as the overworked suspension struggled to cope with Manchester’s worst back roads. My hopes were dashed.
Based on VW’s highly praised MQB Golf platform, the ride is among class best – if not THE class best.
The chassis and suspension cope with potholes, camber and surface changes and hollows like the Golf it’s based on.
It’s all pretty serene and hushed, too. Car people call it NVH. Noise. Vibration. Harshness. The Ateca has none of the previously mentioned. Even on Manchester’s streets. That’s a test if ever there was. Must be the harsh winters. The same compliment extends to both the petrol and diesel versions I drove. Seeing as diesel is Satan’s fuel of choice, I’m obviously going to lean towards the petrol version but they’re both nice to drive.
Did I really say that about a compact SUV? (slaps self hard about the face).
Ateca starts at a whiff under eighteen grand. Get carried away with luxury skin and wind, metallic this and LED that and you’ll end up spending a soupçon under thirty large.
Five trim levels start with ‘S’ and end in the miss-spelled ‘xcellence’. There are also five engine choices, two gearboxes (six-speed manual, seven-speed DSG) and two or four-wheel drive (available only on 2.0 litre diesel).
I don’t care what route of options you decide upon but hear this: this is the first compact (tic) SUV (tic) I’ve driven, that I’ve actually (tic) enjoyed (tic) driving.
I’m off for a lie down. That felt confessional.