In Britain, those sales reps
who don’t travel the motorway network in Mondeos and Insignias are to be found
in Passats. The clue is the jacket hung up neatly in the back.
Gosh, doesn’t that sound
dull?
And if you are to believe a
certain kind of motoring writer (I’m a neophyte and a mere amateur, I should
stress) the Passat is worthy, economical and unexciting. Possibly the difference
between me and them (apart from their experience and knowledge, of course) is
the fact that while I would quite like to test drive a Lamborghini, I don’t
actually dream about such things.
Having spent a week driving
the VW Passat 1.6 TDi Bluemotion and having taken on board the fact that
stupendous fuel efficiency comes at a modest cost in terms of pulse-racing
excitement, I was astonished to read one eminent commentator say that this car
could be made to perform “properly” only if you changed up and down like you’re
whisking eggs. I’m sure someone has cracked an unworthy joke about the fatigue
detection system, which comes as standard, being required to stop the more
frenetic driver from nodding off. (As it is, I didn’t get drowsy, so can’t
comment on its effectiveness).
It depends what you mean by
properly. My one was a delightful motorway cruiser (cruise control comes as
standard), more than adequate on winding country roads and nippy enough for
zipping around town. The real point here is that I managed 1200km on a single
tank of diesel – and there was some hard driving involved. Also, I took three
days to get the hang of using a sixth gear, even longer to try following the
gear prompts on the dashboard. There is something counter-instinctive to heading
up a hill in fifth, to be honest and I suspect that if you ignored the advice
the fuel efficiency would not be greatly altered.
There are several things I
really liked, such as the sense of space (the boot could hold several bodies if
you’re that way inclined), the leg room is prairie-like and the doors close
with the kind of heavy clunk that I have hitherto associated more with Audi and
Volvo. The air conditioning is quick and unobtrusive. It’s a big car or, thanks
to not being cursed with a posh badge, a “family car”.
Given time I might have
learned to like, even love perhaps, the auto hold which obviates the kind of
hill start which we all dreaded when doing our driving tests. As it was, it
just caused me some confusion, as did the electronic handbrake (which played
merry hell when it was first introduced). Flicking a switch rather than pulling
a lever is a little unsettling for someone like me who learned to drive in a
Vauxhall Viva.
As for looks, it has a meaner
expression than its predecessors (the model was introduced in 1973, even before
the Golf) and at a certain angle there seems to be a slightly sardonic (or is
it just superior?) grin. This may have something to do with the fuel economy;
it gives the car airs. From the back, to be honest, it just looks a bit bland.
I’d be happy to have an
estate version – which would bring back memories of my Volvo driving days but
with a considerably smaller fuel bill and road tax demand (a mere €109 thanks
to those teeny emissions) and, bizarre as it may seem (I’m talking old Volvos
here) more… er… exciting performance.
I suppose what I hanker
after, at least in theory, is the Passat Alltrack, the intelligent person’s
Audi Allroad.
The rather fetching Glacier
Blue paintwork added €668 to the standard package, bringing the price to €27, 163.
If I were buying one myself, I’d go for black, a colour as sober and as
sensible as the Passat itself.
