Third to arrive in 2012’s triumvirate of premium hatchbacks, does the new Mercedes A-class pass with flying colours?
This year has been like an eisteddfod of premiumness in my family. I wear a blazer and cravat at all times and our freshly groomed dog lifts his paw to the postman. We’ve poshed up in preparation for the invasion of the premium manufacturers to the cor-blimey family hatchback market, starting with Audi’s A3, then Volvo’s V40 and now Mercedes-Benz with its new A-class, star at the Geneva show in March and on sale this winter.
This year has been like an eisteddfod of premiumness in my family. I wear a blazer and cravat at all times and our freshly groomed dog lifts his paw to the postman. We’ve poshed up in preparation for the invasion of the premium manufacturers to the cor-blimey family hatchback market, starting with Audi’s A3, then Volvo’s V40 and now Mercedes-Benz with its new A-class, star at the Geneva show in March and on sale this winter.
Having launched the original A-class in 1996 (and again the following year after the car famously rolled during a Scandinavian elk-avoidance test), Mercedes decided that its clever sandwich-floor construction, sit-up-and-beg styling and family friendly credentials would never sell enough to realise its plans for world domination. Instead, it has created a premium hatchback aimed at the C-sector, one of Europe’s biggest.
Whisper this, but a premium hatchback is pretty much like any other hatchback, but travels in a miasma of bovine effluent. “A is for attack,” boasted Dieter Zetsche, Mercedes-Benz’s chief executive, at the car’s unveiling in Geneva. It’s a prize worth fighting for, with the C-segment premium share predicted to grow from 5.8 million in two years to 7.7 million in 2020.
This new baby Merc is certainly attractive, especially at the front, where a wide grille feeds into the clamshell bonnet and into heavily scalloped sides. With a coefficient of drag of 0.27Cd, this is one of the slipperiest hatches in this class. The rear is not such a success, looking slabby from some angles.
From the driver’s seat, views to the front are fine in spite of the thick pillars and low windscreen. Rear views are compromised by the tiny rear window and side views by the massive B pillars – the blind-spot warning system is more than a gimmick.
In quality of materials and build, the A-class doesn’t quite match the class-leading standard of Audi’s new A3; there are some poor material choices on the centre console and the optional telephone holder is bizarre. That said, the quality of design surpasses the slightly dated Audi, especially the instrument binnacle with its small inset dials for fuel contents and coolant temperature. Do you really need five facia vents? Perhaps not, but they look good. And, thanks to a wiring loom from Merc’s bigger models, there’s a choice of all the toys you can play with (or afford), including skeleton-pattern electric seat adjusters, intelligent cruise control and a capstan control for the satnav.
The standard front seats feel hard but offer a comfortable driving position and the rears accommodate a couple of six footers with head and leg room to spare, although a third adult is going to be squashed. At 341 litres, the boot isn’t class leading, but big enough for a couple of large suitcases.
The chassis isn’t the last word in innovation. MacPherson strut front and independent rear suspension could have been cold chiselled off a Ford Focus. All-round disc brakes have economy single-piston swinging calipers and the rack-and-pinion steering is electronically assisted. What the original 1996 A-class offered in technical virtuosity has been replaced by painstaking refinement of class-standard components.
The engine choice echoes that of the B-class, which shares this chassis. Three turbodiesels and three petrol engines, with a choice of six-speed manual or Mercedes’s own seven-speed, twin-clutch transmission. There will be five main model lines: Base, SE, Sport, AMG Sport and a single top-model A250 Sport “engineered by AMG”. Prices will start at under £19,000, which is keen, but that’s for a manual, 1.6-litre petrol stripped out like a nuclear winter.
We tried the 105bhp 1.8-litre turbodiesel first, with the seven-speed twin-clutch gearbox and sports suspension. The engine is refined and powerful enough to haul 1.5 tons with reasonable alacrity. It also seems quieter than when fitted in longitudinally engined cars, with less noise, harshness and vibration in this transverse application. This was confirmed by Jörg Prigl, the vice-president of compact cars at Mercedes. If anything the petrol alternative was even better, more flexible and nicer to drive, although obviously it uses more fuel.
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