One to be trusted
Alan Judd
Two thousand holiday miles encompassing Sussex and Sutherland with barely a mile, it seemed, free of ragwort. This pretty yellow weed — pleasing for bees, I’m told, but bitter poison to grazing animals — must be almost universally latent in our soil. You hardly ever used to see it, so punctilious were local councils in their duty of suppression and so keen were farmers to comply. But thousands of acres of set-aside land have doubtless helped its resurgence, as perhaps have organic farms, and at this time of year it spreads like speed cameras along our roads and railways.
Weeds and cameras apart, my attention constantly reverted to the little display screen before me: average m.p.g. 54.5, it said, which is better than the book says it should be. Perhaps that’s because I adhered with monotonous and (to others) no doubt maddening rigour to the speed limits, even on those near-empty Highland roads. But that’s still pretty good for a twolitre diesel pulling around 1.75 tonnes and with air-conditioning on the whole time.
The engine was Toyota’s chain-cam D 4D, the gearbox a five-speed manual and the body the Corolla Verso, i.e., the fivedoor, seven-seater mini-MPV. The first Corolla appeared in 1966, since when a scarcely credible 29 million have made it the world’s bestselling model range. Not that today’s Corollas could have been predicted from those early utilitarian saloons. We are now in the ninth generation and all it has in common with the first is the name, and a deserved reputation for reliability. So far as name is concerned, it’s as if Ford had gone on calling all its small cars Escorts.
The two rearmost seats fold flat into the floor of the boot. They’re easy enough to pull up and the middle row slides sweetly forward for access (only diminutive gymnasts could get in from behind). But legroom is tight, even for the children they’re presumably designed for. The engine is so quiet and wind noise so slight that the most obvious noise source is the tyres. It varies with speed and road surface, of course, and it’s perfectly tolerable; but you do notice it. The test vehicle had standard 16-inch tyres and there is a 15-inch option, but check before choosing them — they could be noisier. The digital clock is visible only to the driver. The key is an electronic plug and you press a button to start, with gearbox in neutral. It seems fiddly at first, but you get used to it. As with other MPVs, there’s a very deep dash in front of you and an invisible front end, whose extent you have to sense. Most MPVs with long sloping noses seem to have a short front-tyre life; a friend’s Renault Espace (admittedly larger and heavier) manages only about 14,000 miles.
I’m not sure whether all those points count as criticism, but it’s about as near as I can get to it. The rest is praise. Despite the lack of any lumbar adjustment, the front seats are excellent: my spine is only too sensitive to car seats and I did all 2,000 miles without a twinge. I particularly liked being able to change gear — in fact, you slot it, so precise is the machining — without lifting my elbow from the armrest. The roof height will easily accommodate long backs and hats; leg-room in the front and middle is generous, handling and cornering are surprisingly good — I’d expected more understeer. That deep dash is not distractingly reflected in the windscreen, as happens with so many cars. The engine (made on Deeside) is a willing, frugal, torquey, quiet gem which you don’t notice until you put your foot down, and then it surprises you. All right — 0–62 m.p.h. in 10.6 seconds and 115 m.p.h. maximum isn’t setting the tarmac alight, but you don’t buy this sort of car if you want high performance. You buy it for comfort, capacity, versatility, reliability and economy, and because you can trust it to do what it says on the tin. Depending on specification, onthe-road prices range from £14,500 to (this model) £19,795. Worth trying for a discount. Would I buy one? No. Not because there’s anything wrong with it — quite the contrary — but because I like big, over-engineered vehicles with big, lazy, unstressed engines and bonnets like the flight-decks of aircraft carriers. Yet the Verso’s vanishing bonnet did not mean that it was difficult to park or to judge distance; despite its roominess, it’s not a large car. If this is the kind of vehicle you want, then this model will do all you want of it and, being Toyota, it will probably do it more reliably and for longer than its competition. I just wish Toyota made something for getting rid of ragwort.
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