► Month twelve with the Citroen C4 Cactus
► It’s time to say goodbye to the award winner…
► … a goodbye that won’t result in mourning
Do you ever find yourself so at odds with what smells suspiciously like a consensus that you begin to doubt your sanity? Or, at least, your long-established criteria for adjudication?
Well, that’s precisely the position I found myself in when I first climbed aboard the Cactus, and absolutely nothing about the ensuing ownership experience has altered my initial perceptions. To wit; the rest of the world thinks it marvellous, and has lavished laurels upon it with sufficient abundance to make even a Caesar blush, whilst I’m afraid I consider it little more than an ergonomically disastrous flirt with wanton quirk.
I should reiterate that I don’t believe designer Mark Lloyd is altogether to blame. Certainly, the Spongebob catches the eye not so much because of the inadequately comprehensive application of adult bubble-wrap but, rather, as a result of his decision to eschew all concave bodyshell surfacing. Failing to polarise opinion as completely as, say, the relentlessly ghastly Triumph TR7, this is actually a surprisingly pleasing conceit.
Climb aboard and go for a drive of any distance, however, and it isn’t long before the missus’s motoring mantra, ‘If you climb into a car and don’t notice these things, then it’s all good’, starts ringing loud in the lugholes. Because, as previously discussed, in the case of the Cactus, there’s absolutely nothing you don’t notice.
Little renders a car more immediately worthless than a woeful driving position. Blend together a seat offering all the comfort of a large sherry trifle laced with haphazardly chopped kindling, a steering wheel with no reach adjustment, a cramped, ill-located pedal box and an obstructive centre armrest and there’s no coming back from the missus’s instant ‘hideously uncomfortable’ adjudication.
Moreover, if God, as architect Mies van der Rohe once averred, is in the details, then the Cactus is about as staunchly atheist as they come. For instance, because there’s no extra storage bin in the position it has vacated, the much-vaunted dash-top glovebox serves no purpose other than to remove one passenger air vent. The centre console screen and driver’s instrument screen are ill-matched. The latter is woefully short on information, whilst the former is unpleasant to use. And use it you must, even to change the temperature.
Lob in a driver’s door which must be slammed with sufficient vim to pepper your passenger with unsolicited pellets of ear wax, and the Citroën’s propensity to electrocute the missus every time she takes her leave, and you can understand why their relationship has been relentlessly shaky.
The hooligans, too, have been less than enamoured with Spongebob; nothing to do with seat comfort, however, rather the inability of the front-hinged rear windows to open wider than the panel gaps on a 1970s Fiat. Could be worse, I tell them; even more bizarrely, in the interests of exterior styling, the seal on the rear windows of a DS4 Crossback can only be broken with the help of a house brick…
Such rear window mitherings aside, then, my suspicion is that blame for the Cactus failing to live up to the promise of its highly individual couture in any other department must fall squarely on the shoulders of bean counters who – confronted with the cost implications of a more complete iteration of Lloyd’s concept – clearly came over all Charles de Gaulle with the cheque book.
And that’s more than a shame, not only because it would have been riveting to witness the full panoply of Lloyd’s vision made flesh, but also because under that fiscal dermatitis-decimated skin lurk the mechanicals of a perfectly respectable family car.
Performance from the 1.6-litre turbodiesel is merely adequate, and there’s little point over-stirring the gently over-long gearshift for overtaking purposes unless you have an aircraft-carrier-deck-length run up available.
But MacPherson strut front and torsion beam rear suspension systems compensate for front seat arse-ache with straight line comfort and composure aplenty. Body control is good and, if not overtaxed, the Cactus evinces perfectly acceptable cornering composure. Push too hard, however, and generous gouts of oversteer and dog vomit are there for the asking.
All of which leaves but one point meriting unalloyed praise, and that’s average fuel consumption of over 56mpg. I sincerely wish this ‘award-winning’ car delivered more over which the family could genuinely enthuse.
Count the cost
Cost new: £19,330 (including £1340 of options)
Dealer sale price: £13,335
Private sale price: £12,975
Part-exchange price: £11,790
Cost per mile: 10p
Cost per mile including depreciation: £1.16
Read the previous long-term update here
Logbook: Citroen C4 Cactus Blue HDi 100
Engine: 1560cc turbodiesel, 99bhp @ 3750rpm, 187lb ft @ 1750rpm
Gearbox: 5-speed manual, front-wheel drive
Stats: 10.7 sec 0-62mph, 114mph, 89g/km
Price: £17,990
As tested: £19,330
Miles this month: 447
Total miles: 8951
Our mpg: 56.4
Official mpg: 83.1
Fuel cost overall: £703.50
Extra costs: £0
Read more from the March 2016 issue of CAR magazine