Keith Adams
Buys a green Cityrover and likes it!
In the August issue, I finished off by saying that I’d bought another car, sight-unseen. At the time, I’d yet to pick it up, simply describing it as a ‘10,000-mile example of an interesting car with a great backstory.’ Well, here it is – and I guess the Cityrover is likely to evoke a mixed bag of feelings, not least that it’s not a classic car at all!
Otherwise, you’re going to fall into one of three camps. The first, and a common one in my circles, is that this little car encapsulated all that was wrong with MG Rover in its final days – representing the death spasm of a once-great car-building colossus, which was reduced to importing a second-rate supermini to prop up its showroom footfall.
You could see it as a missed opportunity for its maker to hook up with the then-ascendent Tata Motor Group to cleverly produce an inexpensive replacement for the Rover Metro/100. There was nothing new at the time for MG Rover to sell to buyers keen to replace their by-then ageing Metros, and this should have fitted the bill.
Or, like me, you could see the Cityrover as a curiosity that’s a little bit left-of-field, maybe fun to drive, shouldn’t cost the earth to run, and certainly won’t stress your wallet when buying one – as I know from collecting this car from its doting owner, Iain Bostockfrith. Slogging down a rain-soaked A1 in rush-hour, it didn’t put a foot wrong, and by the time I reached home, I’d already concluded there’s enough early-nineties charm within to make it a viable, usable modern classic. Shame it was built in 2004!
True to form
Grabbing this car was typical me, really. I had spotted that Iain was selling it online, and without further thought I dropped him a line, asked him to send some images, and after a lengthy Q&A session (which he passed with honours), I paid him directly. Without doubt, it’s a survivor, with so few miles on the clock, and I feel privileged to be driving such a nice – perhaps the best remaining – example.
Given that the last time I’d driven a Cityrover was 2004, and my memories of it were vague to say the least, this was a bit of a risk. But on the upside, when did you last see one, and what could possibly go wrong? Not a lot, as it transpired.
Early thoughts are that Tata’s 1405cc petrol engine sounds remarkably like the PSA Tu-series engine it’s distantly related to, and that it’s not quite as willing as its 85bhp power output might suggest. Turn the air-con on, and a further chunk of power seems to be sapped away. But the suspension isn’t bad, although a little more fine-tuning of the damping wouldn’t have gone amiss, while the steering and brakes are good enough to pass without negative comment. It’s solidly constructed from cheap-feeling components, and inside it’s as grey as John Major’s suit wardrobe. The seating position is almost Suv-like, the visibility is wonderful, and the mid-range Sony stereo in it sounds woefully tinny through its factory-fitted speakers. In addition, the doors clang shockingly when you close them, which is a massive no-no when you’re trying to encourage ex-metro owners back into the fold with the latest ‘Rover’ – at least those cars felt and sounded solid.
Value propositions
Despite all that, I do quite like the Cityrover. But that’s looking at it as a cheap and left-field curio that’s becoming detached from the emotional baggage it carries thanks to the end of MG Rover.
However, park it alongside my wonderful Rover 75 Tourer, and you have to wonder what they were thinking when they decided to nail the Viking longship to what was clearly a budget car. At £5000 they would have flown out of the MG Rover showrooms, but at between £6495 and £8895 the Cityrover just didn’t stack up at all. For the money I paid for it 17-years on, though, it makes perfect sense. And I’m going to enjoy explaining that to an awful lot of people in the coming months…