Citroen Xsara Picasso 1.6 HDi 110bhp

I've always quite liked Citroëns. When I was a kid my Dad had several of the large CX estates, all with Citroën's patented quirkiness: hydro-pneumatic self-levelling suspension, single-spoke self-centring steering wheel, large water-fed display for speedometer and revs, and push-button controls for indicators and wipers rather than dull and boring stalks.

If they broke down, they were even more entertaining. The failsafe mechanisms ...
...then, the power steering would fail; after that the clutch would go; finally, the brakes would fail. If you hadn't managed to stop by the time the brakes failed you were either a) pretty stupid, b) going too fast in the first place or c) an extreme sports enthusiast looking for a new way to get an adrenalin rush on the M1.

Citroën later sold the patents for their suspension to BMW and Rolls Royce and the money helped secure the French ... more

I've always quite liked Citroëns. When I was a kid my Dad had several of the large CX estates, all with Citroën's patented quirkiness: hydro-pneumatic self-levelling suspension, single-spoke self-centring steering wheel, large water-fed display for speedometer and revs, and push-button controls for indicators and wipers rather than dull and boring stalks.

If they broke down, they were even more entertaining. The failsafe mechanisms in the hydraulics meant that, first, the suspension would lower; then, the power steering would fail; after that the clutch would go; finally, the brakes would fail. If you hadn't managed to stop by the time the brakes failed you were either a) pretty stupid, b) going too fast in the first place or c) an extreme sports enthusiast looking for a new way to get an adrenalin rush on the M1.

Citroën later sold the patents for their suspension to BMW and Rolls Royce and the money helped secure the French automobile maker's future and help build their relationship with Peugeot, with whom they share many standard chassis parts.

As well as all this, few people recognise that Citroën masterminded directional headlamps on the DS (now a feature on BMW motor cars) and paved the way for front-wheel drive to become a mainstream manufacturing standard for most car makers. They've built some of the most iconic cars in vehicular history, including the legendary 2CV, and the site of an old Citroën on the road today fills me with nostalgia and happy memories of my childhood.

Of course, their quirky tics do tend to mean that people either love them or hate them and they depreciate quicker than Amy Winehouse's on-stage performances, but I've owned several Citroëns and their modern-day offerings hold as much fascination for me as their ancestors. The C4's translucent dashboard is excellent, as is the fixed-boss on the steering wheel that means the centre never moves but the wheel rotates around it. The C6, their flagship, is large and gregarious and is fitted with a dashboard that wouldn't feel out of place in the control room of NASA. Even the new C5 has its own quirky features, not least of all the current advertising campaign that's trying to convince customers it's German.

So when I had the chance to drive the Citroën Picasso recently, I jumped at it. I thought it was going to be the new model, complete with angular corners and modern French styling that all comprise to make this mid-sized MPV as attractive as a lump of Toblerone. I was really looking forward to seeing how the fixed-boss steering wheel worked and chucking the kids in the fold-up rear seats that appear from the boot's floor, so I was a little disappointed when the keys lead me to the older style Picasso, based on the old-fashioned Xsara platform.

Not that it was a bad car - it just wasn't what I really wanted to spend a week driving around in. The first thing you have to get your head around is its looks. This car might have won small family car awards across all its sales demographics - and there are very good reasons for why it's been so successful - but that doesn't excuse it for looking like a large lump of blancmange.

If you can stop yourself from grimacing at its appearance long enough you'll be able to concentrate on which is the front and which is the back, at which point it becomes quite a nice surprise. The boot space is large, perfectly capable of holding a week's luggage for five people or a couple of golf bags. The week's shopping would fit inside this boot alongside next week's, if you really needed it to.

The five, individual seats are all large and comfortable for grown-ups to sit alongside each other and the rear ones can even slide and recline slightly to give better comfort. The backs of the driver and passenger seats contain flip-up trays with cup-holders for the kiddies to eat their McDonalds off and the driver and passenger seats are large enough to accommodate even people whose diet comprises of a KFC with Ben & Jerry's chaser. Both front seats even come with Captain-style arm rests.

The rest of the cabin, however, is typically Citroën: slightly grey and not all that well put together. The dashboard is centrally mounted, which I absolutely hate, but is clear and easy to read with great big digital figures displaying your speed and other pertinent information. I know it makes it cheaper for manufacturers to cater for left- and right-hand drive markets by slapping the displays in the middle, but it really is horrible - and, I feel, unsafe. You spend most of your time looking to your side, searching for the information you want, rather than simply glancing down for it that, before you know it, you've managed to bend the front number plate on the back of PC Plod's Astra.

All necessary controls, however, are well-placed. The gear box is mounted high in the centre of the dashboard, which takes a bit of getting used to but, ultimately, is quite nice: you can rest your elbow on the armrest of your seat and simply flick the 'box from one gear to the next. The gear change is a bit notchy and feels somewhat cheap under your wrist, but this car does get into its gears quite nicely and the ratio of each gear is well-calibrated to provide a good mix of performance and economy from the 1.6 litre diesel engine.

Controls for the radio are all neatly located to the right of the steering wheel on a small panel, and they can all be adjusted easily with deft twitches from one finger or another. The model I had was also fitted with cruise control which, in these times of rather expensive fuel, is probably not the best thing to use. It's quite nice, however. For a relatively cheap car, Citroën use a fly-by-wire Formula One style throttle, which means the power is controlled electronically, but if you want to drive economically, don't use the Cruise Control. If you wish to drive cost-effectively, always use the throttle: cruise control is like trying to kill a wasp on your living room window with a sledge-hammer. It is nice, however, that the little Citroën displays the speed you have your cruise set at in a small window on the dashboard. Flick a switch and instead of cruise control, the panel acts as a speed limiter instead. This means you can set, for example, the fastest speed you want to go at, say, 60mph and it doesn't matter what you do with the throttle, the car simply won't go faster than it.

Handy in built-up areas and roadworks governed by SPECS cameras, but slightly scary when you think you've got the cruise switched on rather than the limiter and try overtaking a lorry with traffic coming towards you...

Quirky looks and cheap switchgear aside, however, this car is actually a really nice place to be. The Picasso isn't fitted with Citroën's traditional magic-carpet like suspension, but instead runs on normal springs, which gives it a more car-like feel, but the engineers at Citroën have still managed to build in an element of wallowiness that is a bit difficult to describe. The power-steering is a little vague at giving feedback, too, but it all still seems to stick to the road quite well.

To be fair, you aren't buying this car to be a boy-racer in, so I forgave it some of its natural tendency to be a bit soft. What bothered me more was the lack of ability to turn in a tight circle, which caused some problems on tight bends and meant that on more than one occasion I had to take three attempts to back it into a parking space. Parking it, of course, is made even harder by the blancmange design. Because of the large rake at the windows, visibility on the road is hugely effective: you can see everything around you and the cabin is filled with as much light as it can be without turning the damned thing in to a convertible. What you can't see, however, are any of the corners and that, coupled with the wide turning arc, will undoubtedly result in scuffs, scrapes and dents the next time you try to park one in an NCP car park.

Out on the road, however, it's simply perfect. It doesn't jump and bang through potholes, it's comfortable on A- and B-type roads and can keep up with the majority of traffic on a motorway. Indeed, the 110hp 1.6litre diesel engine is a little gem. It's not a rocket-fuelled power train to hyperspace-ville, but it gets up to speed without too much effort and can cruise happily without too much cabin noise at 85mph. It can clatter at low speeds like many baby diesels and will roar like a stung kangaroo if you work it too hard, but for the majority of single teenage mums with five kids, it's perfect.

And economical, too.

I drove this car for over 560 miles on one tank of diesel, and when I returned it the computer was telling me that it could probably still do another fifty or so miles. A quick check worked out that it had averaged in the region of 60 miles to the gallon. 60mpg! My Jeep averages just sixteen. It was like having a never-ending fuel tank.

Some of this economy, however, does come from Citroën's slightly quirky air conditioning system which, for the purposes of economy, seems to switch the air con off at anything under 1500rpm. This is slightly disappointing when, at 70mph in fifth gear, the car seems to be doing just under that threshold, so the air con will shut down and no amount of pushing buttons, swearing at it or simply punching the dashboard would get it to work.

Such economical air conditioning use might go unnoticed in rainy parts of the world like Belfast, but in the 35 degree Mediterranean heat of Puerto Banus it was simply unacceptable. And stupid.

I ended up driving around in fourth gear to keep the air con on and, at traffic lights, would rev the engine up and ignore the strange looks from people around me, all in an effort to keep cool and comfortable.

And it still managed to do 60mpg.

I quite liked this car. Despite its looks, its inability to turn corners sharply and its propensity to try and boil me when sitting in traffic, I'd recommend it to any young family looking for a suitable car to lug themselves and their bi-weekly shopping around in.

Personally, however, I'll stick with my Jeep and wait until I can have a go in the Picasso's newer, sharper, bigger brother: the C4 version. It's got to be better. 

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