Kangoo Trakka. Cool name, huh? I bet it took the branding team at least one working breakfast to come up with such inspiration. What it is supposed to tell you is that those design guys at Renault can really think outside the box, that they are willing to push the envelope, be radical, daring... witty even. So now you will appreciate that the Kangoo Trakka is the latest thing in funky, left-field conceptuality, because it is a wacky hybrid between a mini-people-mover and a sports utility vehicle.
Except that it's not. It is actually a small delivery van with a 4x4 transmission bolted on and the panels knocked out to be replaced by windows. And once you know this, instead of rushing out to buy one because the name's so cute and cuddly, you might pause to ask why anyone would want an all-terrain bread van. Unless, of course, you happen to be planning to open a bakery at the bottom of a ploughed field, in which case look no further.
Along with the Citroën Berlingo, the Kangoo Trakka (I'm not sure how many times I can bear to write that; it might have to be "KT" from now on) belongs in that regrettable vehicle category of "the fun car". I don't know - maybe it's me; perhaps I am just a grinch - but there is something terribly un-funny about the fun car concept. The fun car is like the person, usually a complete stranger, who catches you frowning and says, always in that aggressive way, "Cheer up! It might never happen." Which, presuming you have failed to respond appropriately to their charitable intention, is followed by, "Wassamattawivuven? You lost your sense of humour?" And that is my problem with fun cars - they make me lose my sense of humour completely.
The first joke I failed to find hilarious is that the driver has a grab handle immediately above and to the right of the steering wheel. This was certainly a novel position for it, and, I hope, gratuitous, because you do not really want to contemplate what kind of manoeuvre could be occurring that would cause the driver to let go of the steering wheel and grab this instead.
Clearly, if you were a passenger at that moment, you would want to bale out. In which case the sliding rear doors might aid a speedy exit. And the huge area of open roof available once the vinyl covering is peeled back might be useful. It is also handy for doing Popemobile impressions on a tight budget (another grab rail thoughtfully provided for the purpose).
The driving position is very upright, a dead giveaway of the Kangoo's humble commercial origins. Inconveniently, the pedals are set very high, and the clutch especially has huge travel, so driving around town is a bit like riding a pogo-stick. The gearbox has a squidgy consistency that makes gear shifts feel like stirring congealed rice pudding. And while it is unfussy to drive, the little 1.6-litre, 95-horsepower petrol engine feels barely adequate to the task. With a full complement of people and clobber, the KT might struggle up hills, I suspect. No fun at all.
On the other hand, since you are travelling slowly, the views are good: there is more glass in this Renault than you will find in a medium-sized Sir Norman Foster building. The interior is reasonably well-equipped for its price range, with electric mirrors and windows, and three-point seatbelts for all rear passengers. For them, there is also an astonishing amount of headroom: the KT could comfortably seat three eight-footers in the back - provided they all had weirdly short legs. If, as seems likely, the KT will spend more time carrying kids than aliens, then you should definitely pack their badminton rackets for long journeys: there's plenty of room for a high lob.
The steering is light and wieldy for parking, and the turning circle must be nearly as tight as a black cab's. The KT seems, in fact, to think it is going to be one when it grows up, because when you pull away the central locking activates automatically, just as it does in a black cab. In its dreams, however, the KT is a Boeing 747. You can tell by the overhead luggage lockers above the back seats. But there the fantasy ends: there was no sign, sadly, of a drinks trolley; nor, thankfully, of any life jackets under the seats.
It is all mildly amusing, but I'm still feeling I don't get it. Why would anyone opt for this oddball when instead they could have the clever and appealing 4x4 version of the best-selling Scenic, the RX4?
Well, there is the money, of course (a £4k price differential). But that is not the point. Renault is craftier than that. I think it has found a new market niche: the "reluctant taxi-driver parent" - the hapless mum or dad who is forever ferrying their progeny round half the county for football practice, riding lessons, school discos and the like. And then, before you know it, they are 17 and want to learn to drive themselves - in your car. Life, eh?
Well, here is the genius of Renault's "fun car": buy a Kangoo Trakka and instantly half those journeys will be cancelled; likewise the ghastly business of familial driving lessons. Just imagine: will Jemima really be willing to be seen arriving at the gymkhana in this 4x4? Uh-uh.
What it does is brilliantly exploit kids' sense of shame at how naff their parents are. Owning a Trakka, for them, would be like having a dad who wears sandals with socks. You think I'm kidding?
· Giles Smith is away.
