I really should be sensible here. I really should just put on my Hat Of Objectivity (it’s beige and has no logos – just to be on the safe side) and say that this is all a bit too expensive, a bit too much about the badge and not sufficiently about the car itself. You can do the same or better for less, is what I should be saying right now.
You can feel the "and yet" coming from quite a distance, can't you? The Audi A1 is a car that, frankly, no-one needs. It's a compact premium hatchback and, if I'm applying rigorous rules of value for money, it's just silly. All of its oily bits can also be purchased wrapped up in the shape of a VW Polo or a Skoda Octavia or a Seat Ibiza, and all of those are very fine cars indeed. All that the Audi has to differentiate itself from its more plebeian brethren is a fancy badge and some shiny interior parts.
It’s also very, very difficult to tell where the recent facelift has been applied. This is no Joan Rivers (bless ’er . . .) Botox-and-pin-back, this is more a quick afternoon in the tanning booth and maybe a visit to the Clinique counter in Brown Thomas. There’s a dusting of newness (new lights, a subtly reshaped radiator grille, some minor tweaks and changes to the cabin) but nothing that you’re actually going to spot on the outside unless you possess a wardrobe full of anoraks. Maybe a magnifying glass while you’re at it.
No, this is less a facelift and more a heart transplant because what have changed are the engines. You can now have the A1 with a compact three-cylinder 1.0-litre turbo TFSI petrol or, as tested here, a 1.4-litre TDI diesel, also a three-cylinder. The older four-cylinder 1.4 petrol and diesel and 1.6 diesel carry on as before, but they’ve been tweaked and updated too, so almost count as new.
This 1.4 TDI three-pot, though, is an interesting engine. We’ve been driving the
Ultra version, which supposedly makes use of the encyclopedia of motor sports which Audi has built up in 17 years of racing and dominating at the Le Mans 24-hour race.
So when you see the Ultra badge you know that the car has been specially tweaked to hit 340km/h down the Mulsanne and double-stint its Michelin slick racing tyres. Er, no hang on, that’s not right. It means that the car has been set up to be as efficient as possible.
So it proves. Small diesel in small car is never going to equal big fuel consumption, so the fact that the A1 Ultra returned close to 60mpg in our hands is hardly surprising. It is a good bit less than the 83mpg Audi claims for the car, though, so may actually be the first time that 60mpg can be seen as a disappointment.
There’s also not a major tax advantage for the diesel either – it beats the new 1.0-litre turbo petrol by 10g/km for a 91g/km rating, but that saves you only €10 a year. Given that there’s about a €2,000 price difference between the two, you’re not going to save much money by buying the diesel.
You will have a surprising amount of fun though. With 230Nm of torque on tap, and just 1,100kg to shove around, the A1 TDI is really sprightly to drive, and has a lovely, peppy little three-pot backbeat noise too. Perhaps that’s why the fuel consumption was so relatively poor – we were too busy enjoying it.
Being small and light, it’s also agile and changes to the steering (which is electrically assisted) and suspension have been done to make the A1 more fun to drive. Not sure about that one – it’s enjoyable all right, but the steering’s lack of proper feedback means there’s not a huge amount of fun on offer. Our test car’s sportier S-Line suspension also meant a good deal of bump-thump around town too.
Where the A1 pulls out a proper lead over the competition, though, is in the cabin. Now, we expect Audis to have nice cabins and the A1 follows the script just about perfectly. Materials that both look and feel expensive abound, the driving position is good and the sense of quality quite tangible. Yes, space in the back seats is a little tight and the boot’s not massive, but then that’s not what this car’s about – those seeking more room should consider upgrading to the A3.
The best thing about it, though, is the comfort. I’m most certainly not the target market for an A1 – I’m a middle-aged fat bloke with two growing kids. But in spite of these triple handicaps, I found myself feeling entirely comfortable and at home behind the wheel of the A1.
That’s not something I can any longer say about the rival Mini Cooper D, which is more fun to drive than the small Audi but which has a seriously compromised driving position – the seat is too tight, the footwell too small, the legroom insufficient. And it’s not just because of my size, either. In the interests of full disclosure, I own an older Mini, a 2009 model, and I can get perfectly comfy behind the wheel of that one, thanks very much.
So, with the Mini on a downswing, the A1, thanks to (possibly in spite of) its very slight update moves into the pole position of the expensive tiddlers class. Yes, €
30,000 (as tested, inclusive of options) is a silly amount of money to pay for a small car like this and, yes, you’re spending at least €5,000 on the badge at this level. Still, someone left my beige hat on top of the wardrobe (the one with all the anoraks) so let’s just go with it, shall we?
