On wheels: Citroën C4 Picasso MPV 2.0 HDi
Name aside, the new Citroën Picasso is a masterpiece, says Michael Booth
Published: 16 December 2006
Citro�n C4 Picasso MPV 2.0 HDi
Would suit Virile cubists
Price From £14,995
Performance 121mph, 0-60mph in 12.5 seconds (as tested)
Combined fuel economy 46.3mpg
Further information 0800 262 262
I cringed when the original Citroën Picasso was launched. Not because of the car (which was well-priced, spacious and went on to become Citroën's greatest sales success for years), but because of the decision of Picasso's offspring to license his name for use on a humdrum, five-seat family saloon. Was this really the most fitting way to commemorate perhaps the greatest artist of the 20th century, the man who painted Guernica and invented cubism, defied Franco and the Nazis, and had his wicked way with every foxy young strumpet who fell within his grasp? Besides, with its curvy, biomorphic, Art Nouveau glasshouse, the Picasso always looked more Gaudi-esque to me.
Anyway, here we have the new Citroën Picasso. The name remains a cynical abhorrence, but the car is a wonder. Just look at the way that windscreen recedes back into the roof giving a fantastic view of, well, the sky and stuff. Clearly, the Picasso has been designed for cruising down endless Routes Napoléon lined with overhanging plain trees casting their dappled sunlight on to its occupants (as opposed to crawling through the Blackwall Tunnel staring balefully up at the air conditioning). Or is it perhaps intended to echo the hairlines of the slaphead dads who will drive them? (It's our raging testosterone, in case didn't you know.)
Ah, but what happens when the sun shines? Citroën has thought of that and created very swish sun visors that slide to cover the top part of the windscreen and then fold down as usual (although, the first time I used them I wasn't aware of the sliding element, and nearly crashed when I folded the visor down directly in front of my face). What else can it do? It can measure parking spaces before you attempt to try to park in them; the handbrake is entirely automatic, applying itself when you put the car in park (most Picassos will come with a column-shift automatic, with a paddle-shift option), and releasing when you move off; there is pneumatic suspension to the rear, so it floats like a hovercraft; and it has plastic front wings which, though alarmingly flimsy, help keep the weight down to a respectable 1.5 tonnes.
That means the 2-litre turbodiesel version I tried had ample gumption to pull a car-load of passengers plus a boot full of firewood from the Normandy coast to central Paris in under two hours. The fully automatic transmission was a little dimwitted, but if you use the paddle shift you can skip along at quite a lick. It is soothingly refined, with a lush interior lined with textured, soft plastics and cavernous cubbyholes, one of which is even chilled. With no gear lever or handbrake, the front of the Picasso feels very spacious indeed; in fact, I can't help feeling they've missed a trick in not fitting a bench seat up front and turning it into an eight-seater.
The French are not a nation of car lovers - in the countryside they use cars as mobile stables; in cities they are battering rams. "We don't look for parking spaces, we make them," one Parisian told me recently. But they can't get enough of this Picasso. Wherever we parked it drew small crowds and, as we drove, families pointed and stared, which doesn't happen very often with people carriers. Perhaps it was its sheer size. With its seven seats, the new Picasso is virtually the same length as the C8 - Citroën's flagship people carrier. At least, I suppose, in theory there is now room for all of Papa Pablo's children.
It's a classic: Citroën Ami 6
The best-selling Citroën - indeed, one of the best-selling cars ever - was the 2CV. But throughout its 42-year production, Citroën did its best to kill it off, offering alternatives to tempt the devoted from their tin snails.
The Citroën Ami 6 was one such car. Launched in 1961, it had radical styling with a Ford Anglia-esque, inward-sloping rear window (which it lost in 1968). It was more comfortable than the ratty old 2CV and had a more powerful engine - a 602cc, 22bhp (whoa there!), flat twin-cylinder. It was speedy compared to the 2CV (which accelerated at the rate of long-shore drift), but still the Ami 6 struggled to haul five passengers. Citroën remedied this in 1972 with the launch of the Ami 8, which had a four-cylinder, 1-litre engine.
The French bought Amis in their droves - almost two million over 18 years - but the rest of the world stubbornly refused to succumb to its charms and they are hardly ever seen outside France.
