Driving position and forward view is like sitting at the front of the Starship Enterprise. Citroen calls it “panoramic”, and it is beyond eye-catching. Few cars command such unobstructed visibility and such an expanse of glass – in front, to the corners and above. (Yes, above. The sunvisors slide back to expose the curve of the windscreen into the roof. It’s fabulous at the wheel. )
The dash appears to stretch away and in front, almost to the nose of the car. It’s as big and deep as a park bench. (One day you’ll open the door and find a wino sleeping there.)
But here’s another thing. While the dash has clever stowage boxes up top (big enough to hold an old Stones LP record) and a side compartment that, in some models, holds a six-stacker CD, it is a patchwork of angles, nooks and little plastic corners. There is also a covered cool-box (for the Semillon Blanc) in the console, right about where you might have expected to find the gear-shift.
You can’t help but feel there are too many parts to it; too many bits to break or bend in the sun, or get loose and rattle. And the controls are not where you might expect them – centralised into the centre console – but spread to the corners of the dash. They’re easy enough to use, but finding them is so counter intuitive you’re forever fumbling about.
Sometimes simplicity in form and function is best. (But then, maybe that’s not the Gallic way… maybe – in cars – it’s the quirks that create the personality.)
Less quirky, and definitely one of the more surprising strong points, is the way the Picasso goes about the matter of driving. It soaks up kilometres as effortlessly as Citroens of old. It is impressively quiet: traffic noise, cabin ‘boom’, wind and road roar, and the rude intrusions of the hoi-polloi are all held beyond the glass.
Thanks in part to the Picasso’s ‘acoustic windscreen’, panel sound-damping and hydraulic mounts on the rear axle bushes, mechanical noise is also banished. For interior refinement, it’s more like driving an expensive luxury saloon than a ‘square box’ family bus.
Adding to the appeal in the top-of-the-line model is the willing, free-spinning 2.0-litre HDI diesel engine. With 100kW and 320Nm of torque at just 2000rpm courtesy of Citroen’s latest-generation injection system and variable-geometry turbocharger, and mated to the excellent six-speed automatic gearbox, it shuffles things along very nicely.
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another well written review TMR. MY concern with the french brands is how long they will last out here and what they cost ot service. Ive heard horror stories.
That aside, they design some brilliant cars when they put their minds to it.
It’s a lot safer buying Australian made if you are worried about durability and service costs harro. Buy French if you want that bit of flair and a car that is comparatively unique.
Great write up, very entertaining. Who is ‘The Insider’ and why don’t we know his real name. Is The Insider like the dentists who cant show us their faces? What gives here?
I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?
RM
The Insider won’t give his name, because when he does, the PR guys won’t give him anymore cars for TMR.
Yars ‘R’… enticing proposition this ’showing’ of stuff; would I… could I… should I?
Alas, I must decline.
And the Insider? “He’s just a man, honey, just an ordinary man, but one who puts himself on the line for you, and me, everyday…” “Ooh, thank you Insider!”
I think that’s how it goes.
You see ‘R’, because there is such a lot of ill-informed crap masquerading as advice appearing on the web these days (have you seen some of the other car sites…? Give me strength…) you have to be terribly careful who you associate with.
This lot, TMR, they’re rabbits, they know that, but they’re sorta loveable in a ‘rabbit-stew’ kind of way. I might fess up one day, tell them who I am… maybe… one day. (Perhaps soon; I’m getting sick of walking backwards into meetings because I can’t show them my face…)
The Insider
I AM getting a bit sick of you sitting in the darkest corner of every meeting room…
Great review Insider, and I really appreciate your understanding and history of the appeal of the French marquees. The car you tested is an identical twin to the one that I’ve had for nearly 18 months, except mine also has the massive moonroof which makes it feel like you’re driving a convertible!
Whilst the majority of your review is accurate, there’s a few points that I’d like to clarify:
1. The model you drove was not the “Exclusive” top of the range, so it didn’t have the hydropneumatic suspension on the rear axle that you alluded to.
2. The bumps that you kept feeling at low speeds are mainly because of the low profile tyres and 17″ alloys. If you had driven the petrol version with 16″ alloys, and higher profile tyres, the ride would have been a lot more Citroën-like.
3. Your negative commentary on the styling is counter to the majority of comments that I receive. Most people love both the interior and exterior look.
4. The torque figure that you quoted (270Nm)is for the 1.6L HDi. The 2.0 HDi that you tested actual has a torque of 320Nm (actually 340Nm with overboost).
5. You managed to break an Australian journalistic record for a review of a French car in using the “Q” word more than 4 times!
Damn I hate being wrong… no… that’s not quite right… damn I hate being discovered I’m wrong.
But yes, the torque figure is wrong (Madame Le Lash is on her way to administer the thrashing); it has now been fixed and it won’t happen again… although that might depend on how much I enjoy the thrashing.
I can only count “quirk”, “quirky”, and “quirks” three times, but I am sure there are more.
But I’m with you Pikachu on the “discrete charms of the French automobile”. (I’ve owned more than a few in my day.)
The Insider