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Citroen C4 Picasso diary notes: distraction control
That futuristic dashboard is quite a thing to behold when you first climb into the Picasso. Those massive cinema multiplex screens, the almost total absence of buttons (until you realise they’re all on the steering wheel instead), that odd but stylish textured surface, like robotic rhino hide…It’s one thing staring at it goggle-eyed during the car’s original launch, as I did, but the acid test is whether it can still look as striking against a backdrop of accumulated bric-a-brac from 10 months’ worth of long-term duties. And the good news is, it does – even offset against crumbs, crisp packets and parking receipts, it still looks like a step into the future.
Is it a step in the right direction, though? Fancy as the touchscreen looks, it’s a bit of a concentration test to operate. You need a really firm prod, and a steady hand, to hit the bit you’re after, and just adjusting the air-con temperature was enough to see me wandering over white lines while my eyes were off the road. Of course, the more time you spend in the car the easier it gets, but anything that could increase the demand on a driver’s attention in a car that’s likely to be full of passengers seems borderline immoral, however advanced it appears in the showroom.
Month 10 running a Citroen C4 Grand Picasso: how did you rate your Picasso experience?
I’ve been getting so cosy with Robinsons, the Citroën dealership in Peterborough, that I’m now on their Christmas card list. Following my urea/AdBlue issues last month, the Grand C4 Picasso has just had its first service. Not bad for a vehicle just three-quarters of a year old. Slight advisory on the front tyres – I must be loading them up as I swing this slab-sided pantechnicon into yet another A1 roundabout – but nothing more worrying than that.A decade or so ago then that would be that from the dealership for another 12 months/20,000 miles. Instead, it’s set in frenzied motion the service industry’s modern vogue for accruing customer feedback. It’s been conducted with a zeal you could describe at best overly keen, at worst rabid. I’ve had countless voicemail messages, phone calls, texts and email alerts pleading for me to say something – anything – about my experience. It’s a bit like the hovering rookie waiter at the Harvester, asking if you’re enjoying your meal… after every mouthful. I’ve filled in an online questionnaire now, saying how wonderful the experience was. The correspondence has stopped.
Worryingly, I may be back soon as something odd is happening when I plug my iPhone USB lead in to power it up. Listening to DAB radio, it slows broadcasts down. As a result, James Naughtie on the Today programme sounds like he’s had a couple of snifters-worth of Bruichladdich before coming on air or Gordon Brown after two packs of Gitanes. And I can’t tell you what it does to Sandi Toskvig…
Month 9 running a Citroen C4 Grand Picasso: taking the pee out of its AdBlue urea exhaust treatment
It’s a phrase I never thought I’d be using at my age, but I’ve had
terrible urea problems lately. It’s so bad that I’ve had to go and see
someone about it – Robinsons, the Citroën main dealer in Peterborough. It’s not me suffering, you see, but the C4 Grand Picasso. It began with a legend on the display saying that I needed my urea topping up. A week later the warning turned red (always a bad sign), eventually counting me down to impending carmageddon with a threat that the car would not start in 500… 400… 300 miles time.
I got a D at Chemistry so I won’t get all Open University on you here, but a urea solution – given the more palatable sobriquet ‘AdBlue’ – is added to selected diesel engines in order to lower exhaust emissions. It rather outfoxed Robinsons, initially because they didn’t have any in stock when I dropped by and secondly because top-ups are usually required at 20,000 miles, whereas I’d only reached 16k. Apparently, high-milers burn the additive more quickly.
After my second visit inside two days, AdBlue levels are back to normal, although I’ll probably be back in six months. Frustratingly, AdBlue comes in 10-litre bottles whereas the tank holds 17 litres, so we weren’t brimmed.
And there’s me betting Ben Pulman that I wouldn’t use the line ‘Citroën takes the piss’. Looks like I owe him a fiver.
Month 8 running a Citroen C4 Picasso: don't buy the auto
Albert, the septuagenarian Liverpudlian who owns the Hotel Migjorn in Mallorca where we holidayed this summer, may be a former hippy who once ran a bar in Franco-era Palma, but he doesn’t half love his cars. He borrowed one of John Lennon’s Rollers for his wedding and showed me a pea-green E-type that a fellow ex-pat is having restored nearby.So, one can only imagine Albert’s disappointment with the hire car that I drove through his hotel gates. Still, at least the C4 Picasso gave me a week-long opportunity to compare specs with the porkier Grand version I drive at home.
The headlines from my fag-packet notes decided that the panoramic sunroof (which our hire car lacked) is a must, as is the electric tailgate (burdened as I was, daily, with pushchairs, buckets & spades, parasols and sundry children) although it was the auto ’box (my Grand is manual) that received most of my ire. Its jerky gearchanges had me bunny-hopping like a teen on their first driving lesson, while the US-style column-mounted controls wound me up at a time when I was trying to wind down. Virtually every time I selected reverse, I activated the wipers.
As comely as its interior is, the Picasso still has the power to infuriate.
Month 7 running a Citroen C4 Grand Picasso: holiday time!
In a rare display of automotive professionalism, I feel well qualified to comment on the merits of today’s people carriers. We recently sold our Volvo V70 – bye-bye Blue Blancmange – and having scrutinised every MPV on the market, are about to become owners of a shiny new Seat Alhambra.The Seat has a lot going for it, as we know, having run one a while back. It’s intelligently configured, spacious, exceptionally well equipped and very good value. But for me, the clincher over its rivals are its sliding rear doors. Today’s parking bays are so ridiculously narrow that conventionally hinged large rear doors are impossible to fully open, making entry and egress a difficult, expletive-inducing and paint-scraping event. But were it not for its doors, the Citroën would have edged out the Seat.
So the chance to swap my Caterham – not quite ideal for pan-European family travel – for Stephen Worthy’s C4 Grand Picasso for a fortnight was one I grabbed. It would not only swallow all we needed for our fortnight on Ile De Re, but would also sanity check my Seat-buying decision.
You see, I’ve never been a big Citroën fan. Yes, I know all about the Traction Avant, 2CV and DS. But when I started in this game, Citroën was churning out dross like the ZX, Xsara and the C3 Pluriel – possible the most ill-conceived car I’ve ever driven, BMW X6, Porsche Panamera and Dodge Nitro included. Fortunately someone at Saint-Ouen saw sense, and the recent crop of chevron-badged cars has certainly swung the design pendulum away from dull towards desirable.
And like the Cactus and DS5, our C4 certainly is an interesting thing to look at. It’s distinctively ‘new’ Citroën, this car – it strikes the perfect balance between engaging quirkiness and family-friendly practicality. It’s curvy, challenging and unorthodox. The very opposite of the Alhambra, then, which looks like a box on wheels from all angles. The cavernous cabin is equally innovative – stacked screen, button-free centre console, receding hairline windscreen and not a straight line in sight. It’s so Frenchly chic, it even has its own perfume…
To the C4 we bolted our Thule roofbox and our superb new Thule Euroclassic bike rack. Mounted on the car’s towbar, this ingenious bit of engineering holds four bicycles in a rock-solid grip and comes with its own number plate and lightboard. But its cleverest feature enables you to tilt back the entire rack for access to the boot with bikes in place.
Our trip got off to the best possible start – a relaxing cruise across a millpond Channel on Brittany Ferries’ 27,500 tonne Finnish-built ferry Normandie. They may be the briny equivalent of budget airliners, but the size and capacity of these ships always impresses. With 2000 people and 650 vehicles on board, the Normandie slipped us smoothly across to Caen in just over six hours.
Unsurprisingly, the C4 Picasso felt very much at home in France. Its languid and laid-back character was perfectly attuned to our what’s-the-rush holiday attitude. It wafted us down to the west coast in style and comfort, while we enjoyed the panoramic visibility offered by the large glasshouse, the chunky iPod-fed sound system, the squidgy back-rub chairs and the decent pace of the refined and hushed diesel engine.
But things weren’t all parfait from the driver’s seat. Body control was very relaxed, making the car feel pretty loose and baggy, while at the same time it constantly fidgeted and jittered over road imperfections. The steering is very light and devoid of feel, and the gearlever feels horribly disconnected from the actual physical process of moving and meshing cogs. I found having to repeatedly jab at the slow-witted touchscreen to change basic settings for the climate, audio and the like pretty frustrating. And I didn’t like the way it binged and bonged at me for the slightest driving infraction.
Rather oddly, the C4’s rather impressive overall economy, given its Thule-laden status, was significantly better driving back to France than it was leaving England – 37.0mpg on the way out versus 43.7mpg on the return leg. This despite following roughly the same route at similar speeds.
So, were just over 1000 miles enough to convince me that I’d opted for the better car? Oui. The big Picasso has plenty of character and is extraordinarily good to gaze at, but the flipside is that it’s very ordinary to drive.
Month 6 running a Citroen C4 Picasso: premium or not too premium, that is the question
‘You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone,’ sang Joni Mitchell. She’s right – I’m missing my big red family conveyance. While Ben Whitworth has been off with my C4 Picasso, avec bike rack, recreating the Tour de France – hopefully minus blood boosting and broken bones – I’ve been sampling a test-car pot pourri.While the C4’s interior tilts at being premium, it doesn’t beat the real thing. I’ve found that out driving the CLS wagon for a couple of nights; the ivory and cream leather makes the C4 feel puritan. Conversely, I found that the low-slung Merc’s drive suffers from too much lateral agitation. The Citroën is cosseting in comparison.
I’ve also revisited my Lexus IS300h from a few months back; it’s reminded me that interior refinement isn’t the preserve of the Germans although, like the Citroën, it has an infuriating media interface. While the C4 is too minimal, the Lexus is ultra finicky.
Our Pic even played support car on a recent Lamborghini shoot for CAR magazine (see below). I think it's best we don't compare these three cars, though. Chalk and cheese, and that...
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