‘I was glad of the wipe-clean characterlessness, but that’s because I was with my mum, who had a nosebleed’
It’s hot, it’s cheap and it’s a hatch: that’s what people love about the Seat Ibiza. That’s why, once you’re in one, you suddenly notice that everybody else is too. That’s why people overlook the floaty and unresponsive steering, and the crummy, hire-car interior. I was glad of the greyscale, plasticky innards, the wipe-clean characterlessness, but that’s because most of my journeys were with my mum, who had a nosebleed.
There were a few vexing touches to the interior: the oddment stowage between the seats is placed quite high, so you can’t get your spare arm comfortable, and the parking brake feels a bit tinny, to name two. But the fabric seats are plush-ish, and the look of the dash is intuitive and unintimidating. It is unusually simple to figure out; you feel like it’s your own immediately. I have a family member – let’s call her my sister – who finds it terrifying when a driver doesn’t know how to turn windscreen wipers on. She takes this to be roughly in the region of not knowing where the brakes are. I had no trouble with her at all in this vehicle, which is more than I can say for next week.