Project Nissan Figaro
Our retro adventure draws to a close with a few final jobs and details of just what the oh-so-cute Nissan is like to drive.
As we come to the end of our Figaro project, there are still a few jobs to be done and a couple of those are being shown here. However, on a car that is nearly 30 years old there will always be some additional fettling and repairs to be done, so it is never truly finished. The pictures show the last few tasks in our ownership, but this is probably an opportune moment to also share with you a few thoughts on what the car has been like to own and run.
I’ll start with stating the obvious – a Figaro is first and foremost about style. There are any number of sensible hatchbacks on the market and if you just want a shopping trolley then you should go and buy one of those instead, because at any stage in the Figaro’s evolution process where the designers had to choose between form and function, they went decisively for form.
That is not to say that a Figaro isn’t a credible performer on the road and lovely to drive, but it does have practical limitations. Primarily these centre around the boot space, or rather a lack of it. The boot proper is extremely shallow, awkward to access and has such an uneven floor that it is only really suitable for small, soft bags. What appears to be an upper storage area is actually the hood well – fold the roof back and this compartment is then full, and even if you leave the hood up, then the storage area is not designed as a dry compartment anyway so it is still unsuitable for luggage unless you wrap that in plastic. You can of course put bags on the rear seat if you do not have children in the back, but it is awkward to heft them in and out, plus they will be on show if you do park up.
Sit behind the wheel though, and none of this practical nonsense matters one jot because everything you see in the cabin and everything you touch – every single switch, dial, seat and handle – is retro perfection. This is a car that totally banishes the mundane, that surrounds you with whimsy and an irrepressible joie de vivre. If you can sit in a Figaro and not at least crack a smile, then I would get somebody to check for a pulse because the chances are you are already dead.
And it is not just the lucky people on the inside whose day is brightened by the Figaro, because absolutely everybody who sees the car loves it too. Especially (but by no means exclusively) the ladies – my mother, my wife and my daughter all want to keep the Figaro. So if any of you gents are looking for the ideal gift for that special someone, then take note because a Figaro could very well earn you a jackpot bonanza of brownie points.
There is far more to the Figaro than just cuteness and retro charm, though.
It is based on the original Nissan Micra, the angular K10 hatchback built from 1982-1992, and so the running gear is eminently practical. It is not entirely the mechanical package that we got in the UK though, because the engine is a 987cc turbocharged four- cylinder unit that was never offered in Europe – UK buyers were offered the same MA10 unit in normally aspirated form at 987cc or the bigger MA12 at 1235cc. Power outputs on those ranged from 50PS to 60PS depending on year and model, which means that the Figaro does pretty well with 76PS to play with.
However, it is no race car. For one thing there is a degree of turbo lag when you first put your foot down, a moment of hesitation before the turbo gets enough puff to really set things spinning. The Figaro will then pick up its skirts and hustle all the way round to a an impressively high red line approaching 7000rpm, but it needs all those revs because it drives through a lazy three-speed automatic gearbox. This is commendably smooth in operation and worlds away from the awful jerky robotised manual gearboxes masquerading as automatics on so many small cars today, but it is crying out for a fourth gear. At 60mph the engine is already spinning at 4000rpm, and while it will sit happily on a motorway at 70mph all day, if you are used to OHV classics from the 1960s then holding it calmly at those revs does take a shift in mental attitude. It also hits fuel economy somewhat, and I reckon 35mpg is probably a decent all-round average.
As for the rest of the dynamics, the brakes are excellent, as is the power
steering – anybody can jump out of a modern supermini and feel at home in the Figaro, and I mean that in a good way. The ride is surprisingly good in such a small car too, with comfort seemingly high on the design agenda. The compromise here is that it doesn’t feel razor sharp like a Lotus or a Mini through the corners; it feels firmly planted and safe, but there is a degree of vagueness as the weight shifts and those tall 80 section tyres flex on the 12in rims. Of course you could no doubt dial that out, but at the end of the day this is more of a cruiser anyway, and at that it is perfect.
Visibility is pretty good in most directions, although those thick buttresses behind the B-posts do block out your overthe-shoulder view. Fortunately the mirrors are good, and you soon learn that being constantly aware of what is coming up from behind informs your own manoeuvres – good driving practice in any car, but essential in one where a glance over the shoulder could miss a sizeable object lurking in your blind spot.
With the roof up, there is a decent glass rear screen complete with heated element. Fold it down and you get something of the Morris Minor Tourer experience with fixed side panels, but since the roof on the Figaro folds away completely into the body, you get superb vision out the back. Wind buffeting from the sides is nonexistent, though there can be enough of a backdraft to make a scarf or a hat advisable as the temperatures drop. But that is no hardship, as it is the perfect excuse to indulge your retro fantasies further and pick out some 1950s fashions – they will fit right in with the Figaro aesthetic, and only add to the fun of ownership.