A2OC
Moderator
Audi's A2 1.2TDi is a modest performer, but environmentally friendly and cheap to run - except in Britain. Anthony ffrench-Constant reports.
THIS is a 3.0-litre car powered by a 1.2-litre engine. Confused? Not to worry, you're in good company. There's a wicked story that suggests even Dr Ferdinand Piech, the largest cheese on the Volkswagen Audi Group board, fell foul of his own industry's dubious nomenclature.
On hearing that a 3.0-litre Renault Clio was in the pipeline, he promptly yelled a 3.0-litre VW Lupo into the fray, only to discover that he'd inadvertently squared a car capable of trundling 100 kilometres on three litres of fuel up against a 3,000cc, V6 hooligan.
Now, I do know one or two folk well versed in the grey-flannel art of the motoring economy run. But they are not my friends. And, preferring my statistics to offer rather more bang per buck - news, say, of the space shuttle travelling just 2.6 millimetres for every three litres of fuel consumed at take-off - I approached the world's first four-door, 94mpg car with some trepidation.
To date, the clamour for environmentally matey machinery has divided car manufacturers into two camps. The marriage of petrol and electric power units to produce crafty hybrids such as the Honda Insight and Toyota's Prius - as in-bred, heavy and expensive as the offspring of any wedlocked cousins. Or this, a mechanically conventional, ultra-lightweight, sewing-machine-powered woodlouse.
Targeting the twin goals of astonishing fuel economy and CO2 emissions of just 90g per kilometre, it would seem the German approach is more than shading it at the moment. When asked about Japanese rivals, a flicker of a smirk accompanies the Audi response: "Why should we want to make a car that has to be sold at a loss?"
To lose that grin, pronto, it is necessary to point out that, despite much trumpeting of Audi's aluminium-alloy spaceframe technology, a standard A2 is still some 50 pints of beer - with glasses - heavier than a MkII Golf.
Not so, however, the 1.2 TDi that has been frog-marched down to the high-tech health farm to undergo a rigorous weight loss regime. Numerous steel suspension elements give way to aluminium replacements to make it 80kg lighter than the 1.4 TDi, while the three-cylinder, direct-injection, 61bhp turbodiesel boasts an aluminium-alloy cylinder head and block to shed another 19kg. Forged aluminium wheels bring blushes to the lightest of sponge cakes and even the rear bench seat has been starved of 19kg in the makeover.
Externally, visual changes to the Audi's elder sibling are slight but significant. In the quest for the lowest production car drag coefficient in the business (0.25cd), various air inlets in the nose have been sealed, a rear spoiler added and additional underbody aerodynamics installed. Furthermore, the narrow, low-rolling resistance tyres incorporate fine, turbulence-placating grooves into their sidewalls, and even the wheel cover design boasts something of the greased eel in its execution. Oh, and a can of foaming goo and a baby compressor replace even a space-saver spare wheel.
Incidentally, in keeping with the rest of the A2 range, access to the engine bay is strictly verboten. A dubiously shiny, black plastic, faux radiator grille hinges down to reveal statutory reservoir-checking caps only. High time. Let's face it, open the bonnet on most modern engines and you're invariably denied all access in favour of huge swathes of plastic tastefully moulded to resemble a Power Ranger's backpack.
I'm unsure precisely what it is that woodlice eat, but I can't help feeling, every time I climb aboard an A2, very much a part of that diet. A high waistline, dreadful rear visibility, the acreage between the driver and the base of the windscreen and the disconcerting, reverse-Tardis trick the side glazing plays, of proving far more expansive on the outside of the car, all combine to invoke the claustrophobia of one lodged deep within the colon of some giant crustacean.
Such subjective concerns aside, what distinguishes this interior from a standard A2 is what's absent in the name of calorie control. Not much, it seems. Naturally, the three-litre car shuns lard-inducing air-conditioning and power steering. Yet electric windows and door mirrors make the cut, as has a respectable wireless and even electrically assisted boot opening.
Sadly, adequate ventilation fails to put in an appearance. You'll need the fan on at all times to move any air whatsoever through the cabin. A question mark also hangs over the diminutive diesel's cabin-heating prowess. In Scandinavian markets, the car will offer a built-in, auxiliary heating system, but when I asked where that left the rest of us on frosty mornings, an Audi spokesman simply suggested: "Put four people in the car."
On the road, Audi clearly thinks us incapable of hitting our three-litre economy target without assistance, so the manual, five-speed gearbox is automatically controlled. There are three transmission modes to choose from: an "Eco" mode, engaged every time you switch on, a conventional automatic and a manual Tiptronic, which you will initially demonstrate to anyone who'll pay attention, then never touch again.
Audi is keen to stress that this A2 is not "state of the art", but merely about as far as you can push environmentally friendly motoring technology at the moment. Indeed, unlike the Japanese hybrids, which may be driven precisely like a conventional car, this, perversely, is a more conventional car that requires you partly to relearn your driving skills to get the most out of it.
Expecting to be overtaken by shoals of Zimmer athletes and snails, I was surprised to find that if you drive the A2 in standard automatic guise, it'll lead-foot from 0-62mph in a passable 14.9 seconds, and biff on to more than 104mph, giving credence to at least half of Audi's claim of a 100mpg, 100mph motor car. More surprisingly, even if driven hard, the on-board computer still brags of sparkling fuel consumption, albeit some way short of the full money-off coupon.
With the gearbox in Eco mode, however, a consumption-optimised gearshift takes charge, the ignition automatically cuts out if the car is stationary (brakes on) for more than four seconds, and the car automatically freewheels (engine idling) if you lift off on the move or while aiming downhill. Engine braking can, however, be brought into play by a single stab of the brakes, the clutch remaining engaged thereafter.
The transmission tends towards the lungematic in Eco mode, the nodding dog syndrome prevalent in auto-changed manual boxes overcome only when occupants' heads learn to anticipate the point of gearchange. Coming down through the 'box at junction approaches is not always comfortable either, the car occasionally shuddering as it juggles ultra-low engine revs with the need to nip back through four gears in hurry. Creeping forward at blind junctions is tricky, too; it's hard to nudge the nose out when the engine keeps shutting down.
Eventually, gentle throttle inputs - allied to a fright-induced understanding that this A2 won't slow down one iota until you touch the brakes - make for pleasant, unflustered progress. The 1.2 TDi rides comfortably enough and, with a cold, three-pot diesel's predilection to clatter away at idle, seems quieter at 70mph than at seven.
Sadly, though, no amount of relearning can prepare you for that first, non-power-assisted bend. The A2's steering is horrid: so vague dead-ahead that you could wedge a baby in the steering wheel and rock it to sleep without once deviating from a straight line, it weights up horribly as you turn into a corner while contriving to remain numb throughout. I'd be happy to attribute the car's lack of cornering poise to those vegetarian tyres, but I've also driven this car with power-assisted steering, and the metamorphosis is Kafkaesque in magnitude. Audi doesn't want to gloss over the limited dynamics of the car, which contribute to its fuel consumption figure. But we're assured the 1.2 retains its three-litre status even with the extra weight of electric power steering on board. Do not leave home without it.
Audi sent us on an economy run designed to combine fuel thrift with sensible running speeds. I duly surprised even myself by returning a staggering 111mpg at an average speed of 45mph. Certain sacrifices must be made to return 2.6 litres per 100km, however, such as not braking for hills, corners, roundabouts and T-junctions. All afternoon, the countryside was awash with A2s hurtling around with all the aplomb of puppies on a parquet floor, and with the optimum 1,600rpm in fifth gear equating to about 55mph, the Spanish police had a field day nicking hacks for speeding. On an economy run
If all this sounds rather too good to be true, here's the twist: much like the Urban Spaceman, as far as the UK market is concerned, this car does not exist.
After examples of the VW Lupo and Seat Arosa, this is the third three-litre car produced by the Volkswagen Audi Group that we won't be driving. Audi cites several reasons for this: the cost of right-hand drive conversion aside, this car is already a whisker more expensive than the 1.4 TDi in Germany. It's felt that the UK will perceive this as paying more for less; apparently, we like our creature comforts too much to sacrifice them for economy. Not to mention the price we pay for diesel.
Moreover, while this car nets massive tax reductions in Germany, the new UK company car tax legislation due in April 2002 paints a rather different picture of three-litre car ownership. On the banded scale for CO2 emissions, the petrol version of the A2 1.4 already falls into the lowest band for the year 2005/05. Throw in a bizarre three per cent premium on this tax if you run a diesel, and there's no financial incentive whatsoever for us to run this vehicle in the UK.
Confronted with this scenario, a cynic might be tempted to argue that no matter how copiously our politicians deck the halls of Westminster with green eco-bunting, it's clearly not in the Government's interest to reduce the cost of diesel. After all, if we all start returning 94mpg in our cars on a regular basis, government revenue from fuel sales would fall dramatically. And that, clearly, would never do.
Audi A2 1.2TDi
Price/availability: £12,000 (est)/Not officially on sale in the UK.
Engine/transmission: 1,191cc, three-cylinder turbodiesel. 61bhp at 4,000rpm, 103lb ft of torque at 1,800-2,400rpm. Automatically controlled five-speed gearbox, electronically controlled, hydraulically activated clutch, manual Tiptronic override. Front-wheel drive.
Performance: top speed 104mph, 0-62mph in 14.9sec, EC Urban fuel consumption 78.5mpg.
Worth considering: New government, emigrating.
© Anthony Ffrench-Constant, The Telegraph
THIS is a 3.0-litre car powered by a 1.2-litre engine. Confused? Not to worry, you're in good company. There's a wicked story that suggests even Dr Ferdinand Piech, the largest cheese on the Volkswagen Audi Group board, fell foul of his own industry's dubious nomenclature.
On hearing that a 3.0-litre Renault Clio was in the pipeline, he promptly yelled a 3.0-litre VW Lupo into the fray, only to discover that he'd inadvertently squared a car capable of trundling 100 kilometres on three litres of fuel up against a 3,000cc, V6 hooligan.
Now, I do know one or two folk well versed in the grey-flannel art of the motoring economy run. But they are not my friends. And, preferring my statistics to offer rather more bang per buck - news, say, of the space shuttle travelling just 2.6 millimetres for every three litres of fuel consumed at take-off - I approached the world's first four-door, 94mpg car with some trepidation.
To date, the clamour for environmentally matey machinery has divided car manufacturers into two camps. The marriage of petrol and electric power units to produce crafty hybrids such as the Honda Insight and Toyota's Prius - as in-bred, heavy and expensive as the offspring of any wedlocked cousins. Or this, a mechanically conventional, ultra-lightweight, sewing-machine-powered woodlouse.
Targeting the twin goals of astonishing fuel economy and CO2 emissions of just 90g per kilometre, it would seem the German approach is more than shading it at the moment. When asked about Japanese rivals, a flicker of a smirk accompanies the Audi response: "Why should we want to make a car that has to be sold at a loss?"
To lose that grin, pronto, it is necessary to point out that, despite much trumpeting of Audi's aluminium-alloy spaceframe technology, a standard A2 is still some 50 pints of beer - with glasses - heavier than a MkII Golf.
Not so, however, the 1.2 TDi that has been frog-marched down to the high-tech health farm to undergo a rigorous weight loss regime. Numerous steel suspension elements give way to aluminium replacements to make it 80kg lighter than the 1.4 TDi, while the three-cylinder, direct-injection, 61bhp turbodiesel boasts an aluminium-alloy cylinder head and block to shed another 19kg. Forged aluminium wheels bring blushes to the lightest of sponge cakes and even the rear bench seat has been starved of 19kg in the makeover.
Externally, visual changes to the Audi's elder sibling are slight but significant. In the quest for the lowest production car drag coefficient in the business (0.25cd), various air inlets in the nose have been sealed, a rear spoiler added and additional underbody aerodynamics installed. Furthermore, the narrow, low-rolling resistance tyres incorporate fine, turbulence-placating grooves into their sidewalls, and even the wheel cover design boasts something of the greased eel in its execution. Oh, and a can of foaming goo and a baby compressor replace even a space-saver spare wheel.
Incidentally, in keeping with the rest of the A2 range, access to the engine bay is strictly verboten. A dubiously shiny, black plastic, faux radiator grille hinges down to reveal statutory reservoir-checking caps only. High time. Let's face it, open the bonnet on most modern engines and you're invariably denied all access in favour of huge swathes of plastic tastefully moulded to resemble a Power Ranger's backpack.
I'm unsure precisely what it is that woodlice eat, but I can't help feeling, every time I climb aboard an A2, very much a part of that diet. A high waistline, dreadful rear visibility, the acreage between the driver and the base of the windscreen and the disconcerting, reverse-Tardis trick the side glazing plays, of proving far more expansive on the outside of the car, all combine to invoke the claustrophobia of one lodged deep within the colon of some giant crustacean.
Such subjective concerns aside, what distinguishes this interior from a standard A2 is what's absent in the name of calorie control. Not much, it seems. Naturally, the three-litre car shuns lard-inducing air-conditioning and power steering. Yet electric windows and door mirrors make the cut, as has a respectable wireless and even electrically assisted boot opening.
Sadly, adequate ventilation fails to put in an appearance. You'll need the fan on at all times to move any air whatsoever through the cabin. A question mark also hangs over the diminutive diesel's cabin-heating prowess. In Scandinavian markets, the car will offer a built-in, auxiliary heating system, but when I asked where that left the rest of us on frosty mornings, an Audi spokesman simply suggested: "Put four people in the car."
On the road, Audi clearly thinks us incapable of hitting our three-litre economy target without assistance, so the manual, five-speed gearbox is automatically controlled. There are three transmission modes to choose from: an "Eco" mode, engaged every time you switch on, a conventional automatic and a manual Tiptronic, which you will initially demonstrate to anyone who'll pay attention, then never touch again.
Audi is keen to stress that this A2 is not "state of the art", but merely about as far as you can push environmentally friendly motoring technology at the moment. Indeed, unlike the Japanese hybrids, which may be driven precisely like a conventional car, this, perversely, is a more conventional car that requires you partly to relearn your driving skills to get the most out of it.
Expecting to be overtaken by shoals of Zimmer athletes and snails, I was surprised to find that if you drive the A2 in standard automatic guise, it'll lead-foot from 0-62mph in a passable 14.9 seconds, and biff on to more than 104mph, giving credence to at least half of Audi's claim of a 100mpg, 100mph motor car. More surprisingly, even if driven hard, the on-board computer still brags of sparkling fuel consumption, albeit some way short of the full money-off coupon.
With the gearbox in Eco mode, however, a consumption-optimised gearshift takes charge, the ignition automatically cuts out if the car is stationary (brakes on) for more than four seconds, and the car automatically freewheels (engine idling) if you lift off on the move or while aiming downhill. Engine braking can, however, be brought into play by a single stab of the brakes, the clutch remaining engaged thereafter.
The transmission tends towards the lungematic in Eco mode, the nodding dog syndrome prevalent in auto-changed manual boxes overcome only when occupants' heads learn to anticipate the point of gearchange. Coming down through the 'box at junction approaches is not always comfortable either, the car occasionally shuddering as it juggles ultra-low engine revs with the need to nip back through four gears in hurry. Creeping forward at blind junctions is tricky, too; it's hard to nudge the nose out when the engine keeps shutting down.
Eventually, gentle throttle inputs - allied to a fright-induced understanding that this A2 won't slow down one iota until you touch the brakes - make for pleasant, unflustered progress. The 1.2 TDi rides comfortably enough and, with a cold, three-pot diesel's predilection to clatter away at idle, seems quieter at 70mph than at seven.
Sadly, though, no amount of relearning can prepare you for that first, non-power-assisted bend. The A2's steering is horrid: so vague dead-ahead that you could wedge a baby in the steering wheel and rock it to sleep without once deviating from a straight line, it weights up horribly as you turn into a corner while contriving to remain numb throughout. I'd be happy to attribute the car's lack of cornering poise to those vegetarian tyres, but I've also driven this car with power-assisted steering, and the metamorphosis is Kafkaesque in magnitude. Audi doesn't want to gloss over the limited dynamics of the car, which contribute to its fuel consumption figure. But we're assured the 1.2 retains its three-litre status even with the extra weight of electric power steering on board. Do not leave home without it.
Audi sent us on an economy run designed to combine fuel thrift with sensible running speeds. I duly surprised even myself by returning a staggering 111mpg at an average speed of 45mph. Certain sacrifices must be made to return 2.6 litres per 100km, however, such as not braking for hills, corners, roundabouts and T-junctions. All afternoon, the countryside was awash with A2s hurtling around with all the aplomb of puppies on a parquet floor, and with the optimum 1,600rpm in fifth gear equating to about 55mph, the Spanish police had a field day nicking hacks for speeding. On an economy run
If all this sounds rather too good to be true, here's the twist: much like the Urban Spaceman, as far as the UK market is concerned, this car does not exist.
After examples of the VW Lupo and Seat Arosa, this is the third three-litre car produced by the Volkswagen Audi Group that we won't be driving. Audi cites several reasons for this: the cost of right-hand drive conversion aside, this car is already a whisker more expensive than the 1.4 TDi in Germany. It's felt that the UK will perceive this as paying more for less; apparently, we like our creature comforts too much to sacrifice them for economy. Not to mention the price we pay for diesel.
Moreover, while this car nets massive tax reductions in Germany, the new UK company car tax legislation due in April 2002 paints a rather different picture of three-litre car ownership. On the banded scale for CO2 emissions, the petrol version of the A2 1.4 already falls into the lowest band for the year 2005/05. Throw in a bizarre three per cent premium on this tax if you run a diesel, and there's no financial incentive whatsoever for us to run this vehicle in the UK.
Confronted with this scenario, a cynic might be tempted to argue that no matter how copiously our politicians deck the halls of Westminster with green eco-bunting, it's clearly not in the Government's interest to reduce the cost of diesel. After all, if we all start returning 94mpg in our cars on a regular basis, government revenue from fuel sales would fall dramatically. And that, clearly, would never do.
Audi A2 1.2TDi
Price/availability: £12,000 (est)/Not officially on sale in the UK.
Engine/transmission: 1,191cc, three-cylinder turbodiesel. 61bhp at 4,000rpm, 103lb ft of torque at 1,800-2,400rpm. Automatically controlled five-speed gearbox, electronically controlled, hydraulically activated clutch, manual Tiptronic override. Front-wheel drive.
Performance: top speed 104mph, 0-62mph in 14.9sec, EC Urban fuel consumption 78.5mpg.
Worth considering: New government, emigrating.
© Anthony Ffrench-Constant, The Telegraph