5-star dull: Skoda Superb Wagon

I’ve met a lot of Skoda drivers over the years. They are all called Geoff, and life hasn’t been kind to them.

The Skoda Superb has the same amount of soul as a fridge freezer.

After committing some trivial misdemeanour at school — putting Polyfilla in the classroom locks, I can’t remember what — I was made to write a 1000-word essay about the inside of a ping-pong ball.

It was tough, but the practice was useful later, on the Rotherham Advertiser, where I was often made to file a report on the Brinsworth parish council meeting. That meant coming up with six paragraphs about absolutely nothing at all.

Today, though, I face my biggest challenge, because I must write a report on the Skoda Superb diesel estate, which has headlamps, a steering wheel and seats — and that’s it. Except that isn’t it, because I still have a lot of space to fill.

This hasn’t happened before. Not in 20 years of writing this column have I sat for quite such a long time, watching the cursor blinking as it waits for me to write. Four times the screen has gone to sleep. I’ve done the same thing twice.

I was going to explain that a Skoda Superb is a cheap way of buying a Volkswagen Passat

because that’s what it is, under the skin. But the truth is, you’re not going to be very interested in reading about a Volkswagen Passat either. It’s not a car that keeps anyone awake at night.

I became so desperate I even turned to Skoda’s brochure, where I found you can buy a Superb with a system that downloads the car’s data to your iPad so you can analyse your day’s driving style over supper.

Who’d want to do that? No Skoda driver I’ve ever met, that’s for sure.

The Skoda Superb is equipped with everything you could reasonably expect

I’ve met a lot of Skoda drivers over the years. They are called Geoff, and life hasn’t been kind to them. They all had reasonable jobs, as timber salesmen or managers, but the company they worked for was driven out of business by Chinese competition so they ended up at home all day, eating biscuits and slowly coming to realise that they didn’t like their wife any more.

To get out, they bought Skoda Octavias and became provincial minicab drivers. Which means they now spend their evenings mopping up sick, which is better than watching Downton Abbey with fat women who hate them.

What they really want, of course, is to give up the late-night runs full of drunken agri-yobs and get some of the airport work, because then, instead of clearing up sick, they can stand in arrivals in a suit while waiting to pick up a businessman.

And run the lucky bastard home.

And that, I guess, is where the Superb estate comes in, because it’s not only cheaper than a Passat but also bigger. Geoff could easily get three adults in the back and all their belongings in the boot. Even if they were hoarders. It is the biggest car you can buy for $40,000.

The only trouble is that while the Superb estate is a great minicab,

Geoff is unwilling to take the plunge, because he knows that as soon as he does, Uber will open in his town and he’ll be back at home with his wife, his place on the cab rank taken by a man in a Toyota Prius.

All of which means that no one is interested in the car I’m reviewing.

But bear with me because I’ve been having a think recently about the star-rating system used in these reviews. The Skoda Superb estate is a five-star car. It’s impossible to fault. It is beautifully made. It is equipped with everything you could reasonably expect. The 110kW diesel engine is quiet and powerful.

It is good value for money. It’s really rather good-looking. It is spacious and — try not to laugh — it does 4 litres/100km. Oh, go on then.

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. And yet it just isn’t a five-star car, is it, because it has the same amount of soul as a fridge freezer. It’s the sort of car you’d buy by the metre.

“Hello. I’d like five-and-a-bit metres of car, please.” “Certainly, Geoff. Let me show you the Superb.” And that’s not good enough. If you spend thousands of dollars on a holiday, you want the view to take your breath away. And it should be the same thing when you buy a car.

It should dazzle you.

From now on, if a car is dull, no matter how competent it may be, it is not going to get more than two stars. Because unless car makers start to let their creative juices flow, people will stop buying cars and go for something more convenient. Like the number of their nearest minicab.

Which I guess is good news for Geoff. So go ahead, Geoff. Buy the Superb. Because as a tool, which is what you want, it’s impossible to better. And, thanks to the design philosophy that created it, there’s a lot of work coming your way.

FAST FACTS

Engine:

2.0-litre turbocharged four-cylinder diesel

(110kW/340Nm)

Average fuel 4.2 litres per 100km

Transmission: Six-speed manual, front-wheel drive

Price: from $39,990

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