Familiarity with hot Pug hatch breeds content

100km in a combined cycle and close to 11 litres per 100km on the open road.

232g/km (official figure). the cabin during long jour neys, which would be a pleasure in those comfortable seats and quiet interior.

At the launch in Knysna, I was partnered with a much younger but vastly experienced driver and car reviewer and through the muddy forests after an evening of rain, he threw the Jeep around like a roulette dice and, apart from one or two scary twists, the passenger seat was a model of comfort.

Jeep aren’t really in the diesel game and as American as the gallon, the one we tested was fitted with the 3.2-litre V6 Pentastar engine pushing out 200kW/315Nm and combined with the nine-speed automatic transmission it really is a wonderfully smooth drive, both on the tar and off it.

I say off the tar but the Cherokee 3.2 Limited 4x4 isn’t even close to their various Wrangler configurations. That’s not its target market, though, but with 200mm of ground clearance, no diff lock or rock mode, it’s capable enough with its various SelecTerrain options to get you to places where many other SUVs could only hope to be.

Switching between the various terrain modes is easily done by changing it via a button on the fascia and, even though I still like the old-school lever to change settings, I’m getting used to the comfort of merely pushing a button.

It also switches between two and fourwheel-drive as needed in an effort to save fuel, but it’s still going to give you figures closer to 13 litres per 100km than 10.

While the interior is a massive improvement, despite a fairly radical redesign the exterior still doesn’t make it stand out from the crowd. It’s a bit bland, to be honest, and if it wasn’t for the Jeep grill, you would be forgiven for thinking it was something out of one of the Korean stables, particularly from behind.

Still, at a recent outdoor expo, Jeep were displaying some of their vehicles, including the Cherokee, and my partner loved the look of it both inside and outside but did baulk at the price of almost R565 000.

I’ve always had a soft spot for Jeep and know somewhere in my future is a modified Rubicon, and this Cherokee, while not my kind of vehicle, would certainly be my choice above a lot of other SUVs vying for market share. THE object of a long-term test of a car is to identify those benefits, and bugbears, which may not have been apparent at its launch or even on the normal one-week test cycle.

As the current (almost) exclusive driver of our long-term Peugeot 208 GTi (that should tell you something for a start: I don’t tend to share cars I like), I was curious to see if my “love at first sight” attitude to the French car maker’s little hot hatch would change.

Would familiarity breed contempt? I wondered about that.

A month and just on 2 000km later, I can firmly say that familiarity with the Peugeot 208 GTi actually breeds content.

I love driving this car. When a supercar BMW M3 parked in my driveway was broken into and the front passenger window smashed at the weekend – and the Beemer was forced to sit locked behind the garage door until it could be collected for repairs – I was not fussed at all.

If I’m honest, I was quite relieved.

The M3 is an awesome piece of engineering but to fully appreciate it you need more talents than I have as a driver.

The Peugeot, on the other hand, can be taken by the scruff of the neck and thrashed. It is a very quick car – 100km/h comes up in at about seven seconds from standstill, even at Highveld altitudes – but it is not insanely so.

I admit I have been tempted to give a few lessons to other hot hatches... most notably a Ford Focus ST (previous model) whose only way to get away was to jump the lights.

In the 208 GTi I feel at one with the car and have done so right from the start, which is unusual for a French car, because they often have some strange, different-just-to-bebloody-minded ideas about where to put controls and instruments.

So I had to sit down and think hard about the niggles on the car.

And the major one was – the front grille.

I am, unlike many other motoring hacks, someone who likes to personally wash test cars, as opposed to get them done at the local car wash (or leave them in a state of filth). I do this because I get an immense feeling of satisfaction from seeing a car emerge into its full glory out of a haze of grime.

Before you say anything, yes, I do know that is sad and I should probably get out more...

Washing a car, though, allows you not only to appreciate its lines, but also to notice any scratches or dings or worrying mechanical problems, like oil leaks. It also gives you a good idea about how designers are often more worried about form than function.

It has been a recurring nightmare for me for the past 25 years to clean the alloy wheels on my VW Jetta. They have 18 spokes and numerous curves and crannies where brake dust can collect. The only solution is Handy Andy, a lot of elbow grease and plenty of time.

The Peugeot’s striking two-tone wheels are easy to clean. I can do all four in the time it takes me to do one of the Jetta’s, for instance, and the compact size of the car overall means cleaning can be done quickly and efficiently.

But that front grille is simply a nightmare to clean.

It has lots of clever little chrome squares which resemble a chess board... but which shred your fingers and nails when you try to go over them with a cloth.

And the gaps between them are so small you have to use your pinkie finger to get inside. Very frustrating... Anything else? Er, no. But I will keep looking.

– Brendan Seery