There was nary a Hawaiian shirt or long board in sight and the weather was decidedly wintry at the launch in Melbourne on Wednesday of Holden’s new contender in the mid-size sedan category, the all-new Malibu.
Despite its evocative name, which conjures images of peeling tubes, blistering sand and the heady aroma of suntan lotion, the bleak winter weather was actually more in keeping with the South Korean region where our version of GM’s new global mid-size sedan is manufactured, than the affluent Californian beach after which it is named.
Like the superseded Holden Epica the new Malibu, enters a crowded sub-$60k medium car market in which more affordable rivals such as the Toyota Camry and Ford Mondeo are its ultimate mark.
There’s a clear connection between the front-end treatments of Holden’s VF Commodore and the Malibu, while the rear pays homage both to the taillight treatment of GM’s Camaro, and the elevated boot lid of BMW’s influential 5 and 7 Series’.
Inside, the Camaro influence continues with sporty looking hooded instrument binnacles and obvious attempt to lift the interior ambience with an attractive mix of materials and textures. The model line-up has been kept deliberately simple, with two spec levels, CD and CDX and two engines, a 123kW/225Nm 2.4-litre four-cylinder petrol; and an 117kW/350Nm 2.0-litre four-cylinder turbo-diesel.
Prices start with the CD petrol at $28,490, rising to $31,990 for the petrol CDX, moving on to $32,490 for the CD diesel, and topping out at $35,990 for the CDX diesel.
Holden’s app-enabled MyLink infotainment system is standard on all models, accessed via a seven-inch touch screen. The system also includes a reversing camera and rear park assist, while keyless ignition is standard. The base CD also gets 17-inch alloy wheels, steering wheel audio controls, Bluetooth, cruise control, auto headlamps, power height adjusted seats and electric park brake. To this, the CDX adds 18-inch alloys, heated and electrically adjustable leather-appointed front seats, leather steering wheel, rain sensing wipers and dual-zone climate control.
Out on the road the Malibu is a fairly benign drive. It does nothing to offend but fails to get the pulse racing. The petrol engine is decently quiet and nicely refined. It’ll spin smoothly to its 6500rpm cut-out when required but, frankly, there’s little point revving it this hard.
The standard six-speed auto shifts smoothly but the car’s size and weight means it needs to work overtime in undulating terrain, with the result that the drive train can feel a tad busy.
The turbo-diesel is the better bet for open road touring, its stronger torque giving it the more convincing mid-range overtaking and cruising capabilities. On the flip side, it’s a tad gruff, especially under full throttle.
Ride quality is decently comfortable but notably better on smooth freeway than niggly back roads, where the diesel in particular felt somewhat stiff legged and irritable.
The steering, electrically assisted in the petrol, hydraulically assisted in the diesel, is largely unremarkable; accurate enough to maintain a cornering line but never threatening to deliver feedback.
Chassis grip levels weren’t seriously investigated on a wet and wild drive loop but at regular road speeds and a bit beyond the Malibu felt decently composed.
Suffice to say, the Malibu isn’t the car to unleash on your favourite ribbon of tarmac. It’s an attractively styled, well-priced and well-appointed appliance that effectively plugs the gap between Cruze and Commodore in Holden’s sedan lineup.
Think of it as the General’s Camry and you won’t be far from the mark.
Wheels went to the international launch of Audi’s A3 Sedan in Hungary this week and met the first entrant of what is in many ways is a new type of segment – the luxury compact sedan.
The A3 model range has been part of Audi’s model line since 1996 (1997 in Australia), but the range has never included a sedan – until now. The A3 Sedan will share the same drivetrain as the recently launched (and now on-sale) new A3 Sportback, but as far as the body goes the only things they’ll have in common are the grille, door handles and the headlight unit.
Audi is keeping mum on prices but has told us to expect the Sedan to cost $3000 more than the Sportback. So we’re looking at about $38,500 for the 1.4TFSI (90kW/200Nm) petrol and 1.6TDI (77kW/250Nm) diesel entry models and close to $45,500 for the 1.8TFSI (132kW/250Nm) petro and 2.0TDI (110kW/320Nm) diesel top spec models.
The test drive itself was on some pretty rough Hungarian country roads but as expected the ride and handling in the A3 Sedan is superb thanks to a well-balanced chassis and great suspension set up. The six speed S-Tronic transmission is smooth and quick, although if you want a manual you’ll have to put in a special order and you’ll only be able to get one on the petrol.
The A3 Sedan is set to arrive in Australia early in 2014 and will be followed by the hot S3 version later in the year.
Be warned, we are on a slippery slope of sound manipulation.
It started with those tubes running from the engine bay to the cabin that exacerbate good mechanical noises.
Now speakers are actually fitted in the mufflers of vehicles like the super-fast Audi SQ5.
These are not part of some ghetto-shaking sound systems – their sole purpose is to make a diesel engine sound like it burns petrol.
If this unnatural aural evolution continues, and I’m betting a slab it will, exhaust tunes will be downloaded like smart-phone ring tones and city cars with shot-glass cylinders will take on the visceral fury of thumping V8 muscle cars.
Still, even though I’m aware of the fraud being carried out, I can’t help but enjoy the rich note the SQ5 makes as it accelerates furiously along a road deep in the Tasmanian wilderness.
It’s not as overtly lumpy as the same engine and exhaust in the A6 sedan, but it adds some mongrel, changing the pulses enough to imply a V8 could be lurking under the bonnet.
Instead, a 3.0-litre diesel V6 with two turbochargers is nestled in between the suspension towers, generating sufficient force to make this the fastest diesel SUV on the planet (unless a secret jungle tribe in the Amazon forest has developed something faster we don’t know about).
The engine is linked to a ZF eight-speed torque convertor type transmission that sends power to all four wheels. The twin-turbo diesel’s 230kW and 650Nm is enough to send 1920kg of stationary Audi SUV to 100km/h in just 5.1 seconds.
Think what you will about the merits of making an overly heavy wagon accelerate at such a pace; you can’t help but be impressed by the achievement.
Even more remarkable is the official combined fuel-economy figure of 6.8 litres per 100km, which defies comprehension and dodges part of the luxury-car tax due to its efficiency (denying the feds around $3700).
To achieve this figure you must be extremely judicious with your throttle application and put up with the intrusive stop-start system, which is not easy.
Audi spent a lot of time on the SQ5’s suspension, keen to make its first-ever S version of an SUV something more than a straight- line missile.
New and stiffer springs lower the ride height by 30mm, firmer dampers are installed and 20-inch rims with 255/45 tyres are fitted. This is quite a jump up from the 18-inch alloys that come as standard with other Q5 models.
Our test SQ5 ran 21-inch wheels – part of a sold-out launch pack ($14,720) – along with a speed-sensitive variable-steering ratio and a range of other features. Judging from our drive, the SQ5 handles far better than it should, and while it can never fully shake free its bulk, it is able to remain stable and change direction in a way that builds confidence.
The downside is that, when running on less-than-perfect Australian roads, the SQ5 has an overly harsh ride. Adding to the discomfort is louder-than-expected tyre rumble on coarse-chip tarmac, which spoils a generally quiet cabin experience. Here’s hoping it passes on less of the jolts to the cabin when fitted with the regular 20-inch wheels.
The SQ5 sits clear atop the Q5 range and, along with a hot engine, firm suspension and new wheels, it inherits a unique grille, deeper front and rear bumpers, oval quad exhaust tips, alloy-look wing mirrors, a chunky steering wheel, sports seats and a special instrument cluster. Larger front brake discs (380mm) are a wise inclusion.
The SQ5 will set you back $89,400, which is $13,900 more than the 180kW/580Nm 3.0 TDI version. Sounds good? Careful – don’t get me started.
Lift the bonnet of the new Quattroporte S for a glimpse of Maserati’s future.
Underneath the plastic cover is the twin-turbocharged 3.0-litre V6 the company is counting on to provide a sharp burst of sales acceleration.
Maserati’s 2012 global tally was 6288 cars – a few more than the year before. By 2015 the objective is 50,000, mostly from new models that will rely heavily on the V6. It will be the mainstream engine in, for instance, the Ghibli sedan, Maserati’s imminent 5 Series and E-Class competitor.
From the seven laser-cut holes in its high-pressure, direct in-cylinder fuel injectors to its variable-displacement oil pump, the all-aluminum 60-degree twin-turbo 3.0-litre is truly state-of-the-art. The V6 is built under contract at Ferrari’s factory on a dedicated new 40 million Euro engine line.
According to product development engineer Federico Landini, the V6 and Maserati’s new twin-turbo 3.8-litre V8 (also assembled by Ferrari, on the same line as its own V8s) are designed around the same combustion chamber architecture.
Landini insists the V6 is Maserati Powertrain’s work, and is not related in any way to Chrysler’s Pentastar V6. It’s a fine engine, with a calmer character than its big brother. While it doesn’t rev as high as the soaring V8 in the Quattroporte GTS, the V6 is excellent all the way from idle to its 6000rpm cutout. The 3.0-litre is smooth, responsively muscular and mostly makes the right amount of noise.
In fuel-saving ‘ICE’ and default ‘Normal’ modes, there’s a little exhaust boom at the low revs and small throttle openings required for freeway cruising. In ‘Normal’, the exhaust system bypass valves open from 3000rpm for an appreciable increase in sound volume and quality. Selecting ‘Sport’ sharpens throttle response and unplugs the exhaust system throughout the rev range. This mode’s extra snap is obvious, and there’s plenty of trademark Maserati crackle and pop when driving hard.
The V6 Quattroporte also introduces the company’s first-ever all-wheel-drive system, labelled Q4. Anything from zero to 50 percent of torque can be channelled to the front wheels. The 60kg system has only negligible effect on the Maserati’s perfectly even weight distribution.
The all-wheel-drive system is excellent. The Quattroporte S Q4 sometimes feels almost rear-drive, but the car’s torque-distributing software is smart enough to keep the car mostly neutral at the limit. As Maserati hasn’t engineered Q4 hardware for right-hand drive (it’s intended primarily for the US snowbelt and northern Europe), only the rear-drive is destined for the Australian market. It will arrive in November, three months after the V8-engined GTS.
Although it’s a fraction slower to 100km/h, the rear-drive Quattroporte V6 is the real driver’s choice. The weighting of the Q4’s steering is inconsistent; light at parking speed, the assist is reduced too quickly as road speed increases. The steering of the rear-drive S is more natural feeling, and gives a better sense of connection with the road. Grip from the standard 19in tyres is strong, and the brakes are beautifully bitey.
Faults? Yes. Even in softer-damped ‘Normal’ mode the Maserati rides more firmly than its obvious competitors. In fact, it occasionally verges on harshness over small, sharp road irregularities.
And the ZF auto’s shifting could use a little more polish. But it’s still something of a charmer, the Quattroporte S. There’s a handcrafted cosiness to the spacious cabin that’s pleasantly un-German, the engine is engineered to excite and the handling is more involving than other luxury contenders.
‘M’ stands for medicine as well as cure-what-ails-you BMWs.
But is the new M6 Gran Coupe made of pharmacologically effective stuff?
It’s fast-acting, that much is certain. A claimed, but credible, 0-100km/h time of 4.2 seconds, courtesy of a twin-turbo 412kW 4.4-litre V8, puts it in the prescription-drug class. But this big, four-seat coupe leaves some aching doubts about what BMW is doing to its ‘M’ car formula.
This is a hefty piece of hardware. It’s long (over five metres), wide (1.9 metres) and – despite a carbonfibre roof panel – heavy (1950kg with driver). Such stats are gargantuan when compared with the lithe and agile cars that launched the M legend.
Think of the M6 Gran Coupe as an M5 with a 20cm body stretch and over-detailed, pseudo-coupe four-door styling to provide a less spacious interior. Sound bad to you, too?
And remember that the current M5 earned somewhat lukewarm reviews at launch and hasn’t established dominance over competitors the way past M cars have done. By the numbers – power, performance, efficiency – the new F10-series M5 is superior to the E60 it replaced, but the switch from naturally aspirated V10 to twin-turbo V8 came at a cost. Charisma is hard to measure, but today’s M5 certainly has less of it.
The M6 Gran Coupe’s effectively four-seat interior, however, is a special place. While BMW claims the centre of the rear seat could be used for short journeys, this assertion is probably an example of world-renowned Bavarian humour. The outboard rear seats are okay for cautious people (mind you don’t bang your head on that pillar!) up to around 180cm tall.
Get past the inherent packaging compromises, preferably by climbing into one of the front seats, and the quality of materials and evident craftsmanship are quite impressive. If you like BMW’s current interior design ethic, anyway.
On wet Bavarian backroads (it was raining, sometimes heavily, during our drive day), the M6 Gran Coupe felt big and unwieldy. The car’s torque-vectoring Active M Differential, abetted by on-the-ball traction control and chassis stability electronics, mean it can be driven very quickly. But this isn’t very much fun.
For whatever reason, the M6 Gran Coupe never feels as agile or accurate as the M5. Its favourite environment is the autobahn, where the car’s smoothness, stability and arrogant acceleration are all quite pleasing.
For German businessmen in a hurry, the M6 Gran Coupe might be an attractive proposition, but it’s not a full-strength M car.
And that’s the worry… If the dilution continues, one day they’ll be turning out homeopathic remedies instead of strong medicine.
Last year was all about zombies, but that’s all undead now. This year’s all about the … um, sub-compact SUV? Baby crossovers? Light-car cross-dressers? Whatever.
The new-breed of vehicles invading Australia are hip, hot, and happening, with (uniformly daft) names like Nissan Juke, Opel Mokka, Holden Trax, Peugeot 2008, Ford EcoSport, and – from mid-2014 – the Renault Captur.
Based on the new Clio, this supermini in stilettos is expected to lead Renault into the hearts and minds of young couples and empty nesters wishing to downsize into something dinky yet dishy. Mission accomplished, judging by ex-Mazda man Laurens van den Acker’s fine proportions and chic detailing.
It may be controversial, but the two-tone paint job does give the Renault razzmatazz. It’s what punters seek, along with sitting SUV-high while maintaining media-connectivity.
In Europe, Captur ousts the Modus – a clever, mini-wagonoid nobody bought. This time Renault sought crossover-chic with the spaciousness of the Modus. So Laurens’ team pushed the windscreen well forward, without making the FWD-only Captur look, well, crapola, and fitted a sliding rear seat for maximum practicality.
Buyers can personalise the cabin every which way, although the basic architecture remains light-car functional and hardy. While Aussies may see the wash-’n’-wear seat covers and R-Link connectivity (with excellent audio streaming but infuriating Tom-Tom sat-nav, all controllable via a tablet-like touchscreen set-up), the brilliant drawer/glovebox is a left-hand-drive-only deal, sadly.
The driving position is good, on cushy seats, with smart digital/analogue instrumentation, ample ventilation, and storage aplenty. For handy three-way versatility there’s a floating cargo floor-cum-boot-divider. With backrest folded, you could kip down for the night.
‘Dozy’, frustratingly, also defines the acceleration of the expected volume-selling 1.2-litre TCe four-cylinder turbo/six-speed EDC dual-clutch combo. Under light throttle, the Captur pulls away briskly, and with the turbo rapidly kicking in, speed continues to rise quickly. In fact, on the open road, performance feels downright sparkling. But attempts to zoom off the mark quickly by mashing the accelerator result in numbingly slow responses. Same if you attempt sudden overtaking. Tugging the Tiptronic-style lever into first doesn’t help.
The solution, the chief engineer said, is to press moderately rather than stomp insanely. The EDC has preservation software to limit stresses, cutting torque in the process just when you most need it. A rethink is required, Renault.
Unfortunately no entry-level 1.0-litre TCe turbo three-pot petrol/five-speed manuals were available, while the promising 1.5-litre turbo-diesel will be denied Down Under altogether. Both shine in the Clio, which weighs 100kg less.
The 1.2 TCe’s torpid torque response is a shame considering how composed and reactive the chassis is when pushed. Around town the electric power steering is too light and remote, but once speed builds, so does the weight and feel. Riding (too firmly at times) on grippy 205/55 R17 tyres, bodyroll is minimal, allowing the Captur to flow through corners. But unlike the featherweight 2008 we drove in France a fortnight earlier, the Renault doesn’t goad the driver on. It doesn’t put the fun in functional.
That, disappointingly, sums up the Captur. But the basic ingredients work, so there’s time for Renault to fine-tune the engine. As it stands, zombie-like acceleration and low-speed steering feel undermine what could be next year’s cracking whatever-segment contender.
Walking around the one and only Mercedes-Benz E63 S AMG in the country is something like the calm before the storm. But not just any storm, more a category five hurricane on wheels.
The 430kW/800Nm sledgehammer sedan sits in the pit lane at Melbourne’s Sandown Raceway, looking quietly menacing thanks to an aero kit comprising a carbon-trimmed front apron panel punctured by huge gills either side, to help feed the engine and cool monster front brakes. Pumped guards, filled with 19 inch alloys wrapped with fat Continental rubber, bulging side skirts and a subtle bootlid spoiler are joined by a rear diffuser and carbonfibre detailing, sitting between chunky quad exhausts.
Then the 5.5-litre, bi-turbo V8 erupts into life, sounding like Frankenstein’s monster waking up angry after a hard night on the tiles. Somehow AMG’s go-fast division has cracked the code on making its turbocharged V8 sound suitably aggressive, without the muted woofling of previous versions.
In Australia, and other right-hand drive markets, including South Africa and the UK, the E63 will be rear-wheel drive only, where Europe, the US and the rest of the left-hook countries will be offered an all-wheel drive version.
So, the prospect of all that grunt, fed to the rear wheels via a seven-speed ‘Speedshift’ auto transmission (featuring a multi-clutch pack in place of a torque converter for rifle bolt changes), with 3.1km of twisting Sandown blacktop beckoning, is an enticing one.
Inside, the E63 S is a cool mix if black Nappa leather, high gloss black wood trim and brushed metal highlights. The clearly marked instruments are AMG specific, as are the grippy sports front seats, and F1-inspired Alcantara-trimmed wheel.
With the driver-adjustable suspension control tweaked for the track, and the transmission set to the most responsive of its four settings, it’s time to burble out onto the circuit, and the first solid squeeze of the throttle feels like taking an impromptu ride on The Large Hadron Collider.
This is an E-Class far removed from its suit and tie sedan siblings … seriously fast and gloriously loud. Using the race start launch control function, 0-100km/h comes up in 4.1 seconds, and the speed keeps piling on as the rev-counter needle continually surges towards the engine’s 6500rpm ceiling with each up change. On the first hot lap the speedo nudges 240km/h on the back straight.
When it comes to hauling close to 1.8-tonnes of German steel down to a manageable speed, the big ventilated brakes do a stunning job, lap after lap. That said, a monster carbon-ceramic package is optional.
The combination of 255/35 R19 front and 285/30 R19 rubber, as well as a (standard) limited-slip differential, specifically AMG-calibrated steering, and the AMG ‘Ride Control’ sports suspension tune endows the E63 with the ability to point sharply, corner neutrally and get its power down amazingly well.
Rapid cornering is simply a matter of standing on the brakes, keeping the car stable, and tipping it in. Mid-corner grip is vice-like, and the car launches ahead like a beast once you’re straightening up on exit.
The asking price is $249,900, with first customer deliveries scheduled for early 2014. Not a small sum, but Australia is one of the world’s biggest AMG markets, with over 700 examples sold so far this year. There’s no doubt this awesome sedan will make a significant contribution to next year’s tally.
The Australian male is world-renowned for his stoicism. He goes over the trenches for his mates. He tells fibs to the same mate’s wife because a beer commercial told him to. That mate repays the favour by saving the first mate from a shark attack by punching the bastard thing in the nose.
As I understand it, only two things strike fear into the heart of this otherwise unshakable Aussie man: backyard vasectomies and Korean people-movers. The former is understandable. My buddy Mike still walks with a limp and has a glazed-over stare from his. As for the latter, there’s no lack of probable cause there, either.
So is it any wonder I approached the second-gen Kia Rondo with slight trepidation? Well, I need not have worried. This is a smartly designed, thoroughly worthy seven-seater alternative to the usual SUV suspects.
But by ‘seven-seater’, read that as five-seater with occasional plus-two capacity for juniors in the third row. In terms of proportions, the Rondo, as per the previous generation, is more tall-boy hatch than conventional people-mover.
Thank designer Peter Schreyer for reinventing the stodgy, ungainly original into the crisp lines you see here. But don’t expect to move seven adults – it’s pitched firmly at families with pre-teen kids. For serious breeders with lanky sprogs, Kia will guide you into a Carnival.
But before we move to the good stuff, let’s cover the range, and an anomaly that occurs with it. Spec levels traverse three tiers: Si, SLi, and Platinum. Standard engine is a 2.0-litre atmo four-pot providing 122kW/213Nm. A 1.7-litre turbo-diesel is available as a $2500 option in the either base Si or mid-level SLi. The diesel isn’t offered on the top-spec Platinum, but I’m going to suggest this isn’t an issue. Not because the diesel should be avoided – quite the opposite – but because the $39K Platinum is the least convincing of the line-up.
It mostly comes down to those often-perplexing bits of black magic rolling in each corner. Base Si model gets 16s, SLi is on 17s, while the top-spec Platinum rides on nice-looking 18s.
But while adding style, they also destroy the ride and sabotage the locally developed chassis tune. Sharp-edged crash-through, lack of mid-corner bump absorption and a generally fidgety state of almost permanent irritation are just some of the problems.
Smooth roads, no surprises, are not an issue, where the Rondo Platinum has almost warm-hatch levels of roll resistance and mid-corner grip. But why? What soccer mum or harried dad with sprogs on board is ever going to hustle this thing like a warm hatch? I climbed out feeling that the persuasiveness of the packaging was brought undone by the ride issues and underwhelmed by the engine. The atmo petrol four is too grunt-lite to feel it has the task of hauling around circa-1600kg, plus passengers, fully under control.
When in doubt, get back to basics – in this case, the base Rondo Si on 16s. But spend the extra $2500 on the diesel because its full-fat torque curve is exactly what a chubby people mover needs.
It’s no benchmark for revability or aural satisfaction, but it is a willing worker and mates nicely to the six-speed auto, which is the default transmission across the range.
In this spec, the drive experience is transformed. You’d swear the suspension rates were different, but the Kia folks insist it’s simply the extra compliance of the 16-inch tyres. The ride goes from brittle to absorbent, and mid-corner bumps no longer threaten to bounce you off line.
All of which leaves you to appreciate the excellent load/passenger-carrying flexibility, thoughtful storage spaces, and generally fine levels of usefulness this thing offers. In this context, and at the Si’s price of $32,490, men of Australia can relax – there is nothing to fear here whatsoever.
Car companies love tapping into nostalgia. Invoking memories of a bygone hero is a shortcut to consumers’ wallets that potentially saves millions in advertising. Two recent examples of resurrecting the past are the Toyota 86 and Peugeot 208GTi – both largely successful, albeit to varying degrees.
This time it’s Nissan delving back 13 years to rejuvenate the SSS moniker to headline the Pulsar hatchback range launch. The hatch itself is integral to Nissan’s stated goal of topping Australia’s new- car shopping list, and the reborn SSS is clearly about adding some desperately needed panache to Nissan’s small-car portfolio.
The five-door Pulsar hatch joins a conservatively styled sedan that’s been stealing around 1500 sales a month from Mazda 3 and Corolla since February.
It’s not the 4000-a-month Nissan’s previous sales boss Ian Moreillen promised when Pulsar’s return was confirmed mid-2012. Straight to the top of the charts, he said. Best-selling car in Australia in its first year, he said. To be fair, the first year is not over, although Mr Moreillen’s stint as Nissan sales boss most certainly is.
Australians are a conservative lot, so the Pulsar sedan’s lacklustre styling isn’t necessarily holding it back, nor is a strong value equation, which the new hatch shares.
But given how poorly the sedan performed in Wheels June comparo, it’s clear real-world driving and dynamics aren’t good enough to beat the new and improved Corolla, let alone the deftly honed Mazda 3.
That could change with the arrival of a turbocharged 1.6-litre petrol engine that adds big punch to Pulsar’s allure. It’s a cracking engine that boasts a healthy 140kW and 240Nm, significantly more than the base 1.8-litre’s 96kW and 174Nm.
This turbo engine will power the upper half of the hatchback range, the ST-S and the SSS respectively; the cheaper ST and ST-L will make do with the 1.8. At this stage there are no announced plans to put the turbo engine in the sedan, or to do a SSS sedan.
Sadly, the new SSS is nothing like the legendary N14 or the N15 swansong of the 1990s, though it’s certainly faster in a straight line than those much-loved 105kW hot hatches.
Even putting aside expectations ignited by Nissan’s nostalgia push, the reborn Pulsar SSS simply isn’t good enough to be a hot hatch. Or even a warm one.
There’s no questioning the turbocharged engine’s credentials. It’s a punchy unit with plenty of urge, and revs enthusiastically until lights-out. Fairly economical, too, rated at 7.7L/100km. But the chassis in which the engine resides is as sporting as Eddie the Eagle. Or John Howard with a cricket bat.
Suspension that is tailored for the higher-output engine (firmer springs and dampers) does little to tame excessive bodyroll on turn-in and through corners, leaving the front tyres to scrabble like a dog on lino.
The steering is light and lifeless, and its turn-in bite is blunted by the bodyroll. About the only thing the Pulsar SSS does well is absorb bumps, but it’s obvious there’s suspension compliance to spare.
The SSS doesn’t claim to be a hardcore sports car. But with 140kW and SSS badging, it does claim to be a hot hatch. And reality doesn’t gel with that aspiration. It’s not dynamic or engaging. And it’s certainly not fun to drive.
Resurrecting a bygone hero is fine, providing the modern warrior is as true to the original in concept and execution as ever-tightening regulations allow. But sometimes companies don’t understand the appeal of the original and therefore stand little chance of reinterpreting it for the modern world.
Just because something can be reborn, Mr Rudd, doesn’t mean it should be. Like a double-edged sword, nostalgia cuts both ways.
“It takes a lot of money to look this cheap!” singer/songwriter Dolly Parton once remarked. And then there’s this – Fiat’s ‘repositioned’ but otherwise unchanged 500. Now from $14,000 driveaway, it’s the least expensive way to look classy on four wheels.
Wow – $14K for the reintroduced base 1.2 Pop. AWOL since 2009, last time it cost $10K more.
So, what’s happened? Now in charge of importing its own wares to Oz, Fiat is determined to flick the fringe for mainstream, so it’s plonked the entry 500 against the Volkswagen Up and Holden Barina Spark down in the new-car bargain-basement arena.
So how does the versatile 1.2 Pop cut it in the new-car creche? Looking super sassy in off-white Bakelite-like trim, contrasting with glossy body-coloured dash bits, the alluring cabin artfully melds old-school elegance with modern functionality.
It just feels vintage. Today’s supermini amenities – seven airbags, air-con, CD/MP3/USB audio, Bluetooth telephony, power windows, telescopic wheel with remote controls for media and trip-computer activation – are all present and easily accessible.
While the 500 features only four seats and limited cargo capacity within its dinky derriere, there’s more interior space than the 3.5-metre length suggests – although choosing the optional sunroof does hinder headroom. Which may be problematic, since the seats are set too high.
Furthermore, fat windscreen pillars can magically make whole cars vanish when negotiating roundabouts; the ‘glovebox’ is just a tray beneath a tilting front passenger-seat cushion; the rear backrest isn’t split; and missing overhead grab handles is a Euro austerity measure too far.
But seeing as the Fiat’s mass is a laughable 865kg, the ancient 51kW/102Nm 1.2-litre four-cylinder single-cam ‘Fire’ four-cylinder engine is more of a slogger than a slug, thanks to handy low-down torque and suitable gear ratios.
Together with a smooth five-speed manual shifter, they make the 500 feel feistier than the feeble figures suggest, and even maintain the pace at freeway speeds.
Unfortunately, the Fiat’s electric steering isn’t kart-like, but the numb helm is at least reactive, and offers a super-light dumb mode for effort-free, round-town twirling. Similarly, riding on 175/65R14 rubber, the Pop’s front-drive chassis provides some degree of cushy pliancy and composure, but the 500 lacks the alacrity and poise of the accomplished Up.
Still, nothing for $14K is as enchanting inside or out. Oozing propriety and charm, the 1.2 Pop feels truest to the 1957-’75 Nuova Cinquecento original in concept and execution.
