Road Test: Seat Alhambra 2.0 TDI 140 Reference

Price as tested: €38,743

+ Massive space, sliding doors, comfy, well made
– Totally contrary to Seat’s sporting image, missing some key equipment
= Just not the kind of car Seat should be building


Let me start first off by saying that I genuinely, properly like Seats. Four have passed through the hands of variously myself and other family members in the past decade and a bit and none have ever given trouble or had more than a day off the road. Cracking cars, every one.

And the whole idea behind the Seat brand, since its takeover by Volkswagen in the late eighties, is a belter. VW sought to create a Spanish Alfa Romeo, a sporting brand full of passion and brio, but with the promise of the solidity of VW-derived engines and chassis underneath to allay any fears over reliability or quality.

On some Seat models, that all works fine. The Leon hatchback, especially in hot 260bhp Cupra form, is a cracking hot hatch and I have a major soft spot for the sharply styled Ibiza supermini. But the rest of the range is... well, not living up to the billing.

Take this, the Alhambra people carrier. Nothing wrong with it, when taken in isolation. It’s big, spacious, has seats for seven, it’s safe and I love the sliding rear doors, which give such good access to the rear cabin, especially in tight parking spaces.

It’s also well made, comfy and, with that excellent 2.0-litre TDI diesel engine (140bhp, 320Nm of torque) doing the shunting, it’s got decent performance and good fuel economy. In fact, with claimed economy of 5.6-litres per 100km comparing well with our observed economy of 6.0-litres per 100km, it must be one of the most consistently economical big cars going. That’s helped by standard-fit Stop-Start and the Alhambra, as tested in Reference specification, comes with seven airbags, ESP, electric child locks, front fog lights, electronic handbrake and climate control. Our test car also came with an optional €613 Lifestyle pack which includes 16” alloys, multi-function steering wheel, extra chrome bits and more. All of that for €38,743. Not bad.

Except... Well, there are a couple of quibbles. First off, let’s talk about price and spec. On the upside, the Alhambra is around €3,000 cheaper than the equivalent (and cirtually identical in every respect) Volkswagen Sharan, so that makes it something of a bargain. On the downside, who exactly is expected these days to pay the guts of €40k for a new car and find that such items as a leather steering wheel, parking sensors and Bluetooth phone connection are still on the options list? Come on Seat, look across the road at the competition from the likes of Kia and Hyundai and wake up and smell the coffee.

Meanwhile, there is a serious disconnect between the Alhambra in and of itself and the whole brand image that Seat wants to project. If Seat is supposed to be the sprawling VW Group’s sporty, youthful brand, why is it in the first place making an Alhambra at all? Surely such a big, practical car is more in the line of in-house rival Skoda? Why isn’t Seat making something more aimed at the family driver who still loves driving? Ford’s S-Max is an obvious rival in this sense; a seven-seater family hack that still has the sharp styling and equally sharp chassis that those of us who combine driving enthusiasm and the burden of kids crave.

Instead, the Alhambra majors on being comfy and spacious, but as a thing to drive, it’s a bit of a bus; lumbering awkwardly around corners and never, ever doing anything to engage the driver. The Alhambra also suffers from the same complaint we have of its Exeo saloon sister; the cabin is just too grey and too plain to give you even a tiny hint of the Spanish style that Seat is supposed to exude. Only at night, when it’s pleasantly lit with read and white backlighting, does the Alhambra’s cabin come to life.

As an individual vehicle, the Alhambra’s just fine. A big, spacious family hauler that’ll provide years of faithful, useful service. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But come one Seat, please start giving us more cars that live up to the marketing message.


Facts & Figures

Seat Alhambra 2.0 TDI 140 Reference
Price as tested: €38,743
Price range: €38,180 to €43,700
Capacity: 1,995cc
Power: 138bhp
Torque: 320Nm
Top speed: 215kmh
0-100kmh: 11.3sec
Economy: 5.6l-100km (50.4mpg)
CO2 emissions: 146g/km
Road Tax Band: C €302
Euro NCAP rating: 5-star adult: 96% adult, 80% child, 46% pedestrian, 71% safety assist

Road Test: Renault Laguna 2.0 dCi Initiale

Price as tested: €27,990

In brief: As comfy and luxurious as a French express should be, but lacking in style both inside and out.


When Gustav Eiffel erected the vast ironwork tower that bears his name it was done with the kind of exacting precision that you would think impossible in the 19th Century. Those vast legs that support the first platform (and indeed the entire structure) could not be more than a half of one degree out of line when their vast sand supports were removed and the structure became load-bearing. Likewise, some of the upper portions of the 9,500-tonne structure had to be bolted together at a tolerance of less than one tenth of a millimetre, and this at an altitude that few outside of the mountaineering community had ever scaled.

I mention this because there is a common assumption that French cars are not as well put together as their German or Japanese counterparts. A preconception that they are thrown together on a Friday lunchtime by some surly, over-paid, over-unionised Jean-Luc with a Gauloise on the go and a grievance with the management. It’s a myth, in case you were wondering.

But a myth that the previous generation Laguna (from 2000 to 2006) almost single-handedly confirmed as reality. To call it badly built is an understatement. And I speak from experience. I own one. It is spacious, handsome, comfortable beyond all belief, and in terms of its engine and gearbox, surprisingly sturdy.

But just about everything else, from the exhaust to the suspension to the electric windows to the sun visors to even something as simple as the key has needed attention recently. Fair enough, it’s an aged car but I know I’m not alone in my Laguna frustrations. The warranty claims on this model were sufficient to put Renault on a serious financial back foot.

So when Renault launched the updated Laguna III in 2006, it knew that the quality had to be right. Very right. And so it proved. I defy you to find a car with better primary and secondary reliability than a current Renault Laguna. It is, to coin a phrase, solid.

Just not very stylish. The crisp lines of the old (my) Laguna were abandoned in favour of plainness and anonymity. A shame. French cars should always be stylish, in my view.

Belatedly, Renault has attempted to inject some style back into the Laguna, with new lights and grille and an all-over make-over. Sadly, it still looks plain and ordinary, and I still wonder why Renault simply doesn’t take the shape of the gorgeous Laguna Coupe and stretch it to accommodate four doors.

Still, it is a truism that it’s mostly other people who look at your car, so you ought to be more interested in its mechanical and interior appointments. Few are, but that’s human beings for you.

So, the Laguna now gets Renault’s latest generation 2.0 dCi diesel engine, with 150bhp and a fairly hefty 340Nm of torque. It’s this torque that gives the Laguna a new-found dose of sportiness, and in the handsome black metallic paintwork of our test car, you could easily imagine it speeding out of the gates of the Elysee Palace, minister in the back seat, racing to some appointment with France’s destiny. Well, I could but maybe I’ve just watched Day Of The Jackal too many times.

When an engine combines performance this fleet (9.5 0-100kmh dash) with economy and emissions this impressive (5.2-litres per 100km, a figure we matched, and 136g/km of Co2) you know you’re on to a winner.

The sad thing is that dynamically, the Laguna simply can’t bring a chassis to match the engine’s party. It’s OK, but nothing more. The steering is, in true DeGaulle fashion, aloof and resistant. The handling is actually fine; the Laguna is always sure-footed and grippy, but it’s never engaging. Even the six-speed gearshift can’t be bothered, moving floppily and langorously across its gate. What makes it all so annoying is that we know, for a fact, that Renault can do better. The Megane Coupe is a fine-handling car, and the various RenaultSport models are as deft and as brilliant as any sports car, so there’s no need for the Laguna to be this unwilling.

There are some side benefits though. The seats, specced up to Initiale level on our car, felt like plump, lovely sofas more than car seats. The equipment levels (including a bewildering joystick controller for the TomTom-derived satnav) give you plenty of buttons to play with win traffic, and if space in the back is surprisingly poor (certainly not up to the current class standard) then at least the rear seats are as squidgily comfortable as the fronts.

And the quality? Fine, but for one error. With the extra Initiale spec, you get lots of wood and polished piano black inserts, but all they really do is remind you that many of the Laguna’s cabin fittings are actually a bit rough and ready. A little less make-up, in this case, would actually have revealed fewer flaws.

So, as the owner of a former Laguna, would I seriously consider the new one? No, sadly, but that’s not down to any specific failing of the car itself. Considered alone, the updated Laguna is charmingly French, well-made, swift, frugal and exceptionally comfortable. But considered along the horde of rivals that ply this exceptionally talented class (Mondeo, 508, Passat, Insignia, C5, Avensis, i40 etc etc) and it starts to lose its lustre. Renault needs to rethink and dramatically update the Laguna, not merely facelift it, if it’s to be truly competitive. And remember what I said about making the Laguna Coupe body into a four-door?

In spite of its utilitarian nature (and its singular lack of purpose) the Eiffel Tower has gathered a character all of its own and become the iconic symbol of the great city of Paris. Perhaps there’s a lesson there for the Laguna. Making something with precision engineering doesn’t mean you cannot also produce it with character and beauty.


Facts & Figures

Renault Laguna 2.0 dCi Initiale
Price: €27,990
Price range: €24,490 to €27,990
Capacity: 1,995cc
Power: 150bhp
Torque: 340Nm
Top speed: 180kmh
0-100kmh: 9.5sec
Economy: 5.2l-100km (54.3mpg)
CO2 emissions: 136g/km
Road Tax Band: B €156
Euro NCAP rating: 5-star adult, 4-star child, 2-star pedestrian

Road Test: Mercedes-Benz C200 CDI Avantgarde Estate

Price as tested: €48,387.

In brief: All the usual Mercedes strengths and a beautifully balanced chassis, but lacks the space to be a proper family estate.


I have an instinctive, gut reaction to Mercedes estates. I want them. Any of them. I can’t explain it, it’s not based on anything rational, but I just love them. Ever since the quietly handsome W114 estates of the late seventies, I have just lusted after a big Merc hauler.

So, this updated C-Class estate should be pushing all my buttons, and statically at least, it does so. The restyled front end looks crisply handsome, especially in Avantgarde trim with the big, bold three-pointed star in the grille. Our test cars’ silver paint was entirely appropriate and, far from making it look boring or predictable, merely served to accentuate the clean lines.

Inside too, things a good. Very good. When it updated the C-Class this year, Mercedes did an excellent job of eradicating the slightly coarse, cheap-feeling plastics of the first-gen model and instead giving it much more a a mini-E-Class feel. As is usual with Mercedes, there are few (if any) gimmicks or geegaws beyond the the reasonably simple rotary controller for the Command system and you get the impression that it’s a cabin that will wear years with grace and resilience. Just as it should be.

Behind the three-pointed star lies the lowliest of Mercedes’ current diesel engine range, the 134bhp 200 CDI four cylinder. Don’t go feeling short changed by it though, for when it’s optionally bolted to the front of the excellent seven-speed automatic gearbox, this is a very satisfying engine to drive. Refinement is excellent, and despite having just that 134bhp (and 360Nm of torque) it really does pull with a pleasingly relentless feeling. It’s not blisteringly fast (0-100kmh in 9.6secs) but neither does it feel under-engined at any point.

It earns its BlueEfficiency badge as well, with Co2 emissions as low as 125g/km and claimed fuel consumption of 4.8-litres per 100km. Mind you, we only managed a relatively disappointing 6.2l/100km average, but you can in part at least blame a couple of long motorway runs for spoiling that.

The best part of the C-Class estate though has to be its chassis. Mercedes has, thankfully, ignored the received wisdom that a car with sporting pretension must ride like its suspension is constructed entirely from RSJs and concrete. The C glides along, always with an underlying firmness, but riding really quite beautifully.

And, as if to prove that the late, great LJK Setright (look him up) was right when he said that “whatever is done to improve ride is, when done properly, also good for handling” the C proves itself able to entertain too. The steering feels meaty and positive and, unlike most modern electrically assisted systems, feels like it’s telling you what’s actually happening at the contact patch, rather than relaying some kind of computer simulation. Front grip is excellent, and the C resists understeer very well for what is, let’s face it, a comfy family estate.

Ah, but is it. This is where the C’s case falls apart just a bit. You see, sporty, compact premium saloons, a class that the C falls firmly into, generally have one mission in life; to massage the ego of their drivers and owners. And that’s fine, but it usually means that space in the rear seats is compromised and that is the case here. It’s not actively cramped, but certainly big, bulky child seats really chew into the available room, often forcing the front seat occupants to sacrifice their comfort somewhat.

And the news in the boot is not much better. Yes, it’s square and flat back there, and yes, it passed my usual massive-three-wheeled-buggy test with ease but 485-litres of space, with the rear seats up, just doesn’t seem enough any more. Does it?

You see, I think that the C-Class estate’s problem is that it’s caught in an uncomfortable middle ground between the likes of the Mondeo, Passat, 508 and even Skoda Superb estates (bigger by far, better equipped as standard, barely any less well built or engineered and cheaper by up to €20k) and the E-Class estate, which regular readers will know I am madly in love with.

The E is everything a Mercedes estate should be. It’s massively spacious in every seat and in the boot, drives with the kind of calm sure-footedness that a big German car should and feels as if it’s built to withstand a concentrated napalm attack.

The C-Class manages to do many of those things well, and it has a really good bash at being the perfect Mercedes estate in miniature. But it’s that miniature bit that holds it back. At its cheapest, it starts to make a little more sense, but the price of our test car would have you into a decently specced E-Class, and that’s game over.

A shame. I loved the C estate when I saw it, but the simple fact is that you would be better off buying it as a saloon, or saving up for an E.

Facts & Figures

Mercedes-Benz C200 CDI estate Avantagarde A/T
Price as tested: €48,387
Range price: €38,750 to €98,455
Capacity: 2,143cc
Power: 134bhp
Torque: 360Nm
Top speed: 209kmh
0-100kmh: 9.6sec
Economy: 4.8l-100km (58.8mpg)
CO2 emissions: 125g/km
Road Tax Bad: B €156
Euro NCAP rating: 5-star; 82% adult, 70% child, 30% pedestrian, 86% safety assist.