0.9 90hp Turbo Prime 2dr Coupe

Fun in its own context.

The interior is surprisingly spacious – those over 6ft need not worry. If anything, ‘elbow room’ will be conspicuous by its privation.

The steering is light, and indeed lacks ‘feel’. Whilst this is a blight of many cars, it actually suits the ForTwo very well – at least until speeds increase. It’s not a car you’ll power through a bend purely for the fun of it.
On a test drive the ForTwo feels ‘darty’ – reacting to the slightest steering input with the drama of a pantomime dame. During ownership however, the responsiveness is easily assimilated and an asset of the car. You’ll miss it when you drive anything else and find yourself swinging wide out of corners in a way that you never used to.

The 0.9 turbo petrol is plenty for the car it is charged with pushing around, serving a surge of torque around two-and-a-half thousand revs typical of such engines. What’s more, as drive is via the rear wheels, there’s not a hint of torque steer. Such a shame therefore, that the power delivery is so polarised; you can find yourself lurching along in the lower gears even after weeks of practice. Perhaps this ‘all-or-nothing’ effect is exacerbated by a drive by wire system; maybe fuelling input in response to a cold start has an impact. But it remains unsophisticated and somewhat frustrating nonetheless.

Accessing the engine (for example, just to check the oil) requires emptying the entire contents of the boot; unscrewing 6 fasteners, and removing the panel which acts as both the boot floor and the engine cover. The dipstick has to go round a corner, which doesn’t seem to help matters.

The car is indeed small and fits in parking places unsuitable or less convenient for larger vehicles. However, it is not especially narrow given its size. Also, in the tradition of car manufacturers when making two-door versions, the doors are very long, making it ludicrously difficult to get in or out when parked next to anything.

The service bonnet (at the front, but with no engine underneath) has no hinge. There are just a couple of straps that stop it falling on the floor. You will most likely need to get in here to top up your screen wash. It is also where the battery lives.

The idea of a split tailgate is a fine concept and it can work really well on, for example, Range Rovers. Somehow it doesn’t on the ForTwo. The upper portion simply does not offer a sufficient level of access in comparison to the capacity of the boot. As a result, you find yourself having to open both sections of the tailgate fully (which is a faff) in order to load or extricate quite modestly sized objects which are very easily accommodated once inside. Furthermore, the upper is a glass tailgate. Honest John reports instances of these shattering on a variety of cars, which is to be prevented by closing with both hands evenly spaced. This is also bothersome, as it involves putting down your shopping on the (inevitably wet) ground in order to do so.

Also, if you’re a devotee of the Moving Brake Test, or your driving style involves firm braking regardless, you will soon become aware that the contents of the boot take it upon themselves to become the contents of the cabin. The only thing to (not) separate the two is a bit of cloth – and the back of the seat you’re sitting on.

The rev counter and (superfluous) analogue clock are like an afterthought by Fisher-Price. You rarely end up looking at either.
The heating controls are absurdly fiddly. The slider (to select temperature) may have been intended as futuristic – but it’s a future that was first conceived in the middle of the last century. There is a reason it was abandoned. Around this you have a halo of eleven buttons, no less, for the ventilation. Other cars achieve the same level of control with three dials which can be adjusted intuitively, without looking, after a brief period of ownership. Hidden amongst these is a twelfth button(!) for the heated rear window – just where you would never expect to find it. No, you don’t get used to it.

Whilst the car makes you aware of every road repair around town, it’s not a huge imposition. Conversely, as speeds increase, the bouncy nature of the ride becomes tiresome like a bad joke being re-told relentlessly. This is possibly the car’s Achilles heal for those who venture out of town. Strangely, things calm down a bit on the motorway – but don’t expect to ‘waft’ along in serenity.

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