Dacia Duster 1.6 16V 4WD
Dacia Duster 1.6 16V 4WD
Pics by Raparperi
Sipping on some excellent, Aeropress-made dark coffee, I feel like it's time to put down a few words about the less painful one of my two driving experiences on Thursday.
Before attending the Ahvenisto trackday meet, me and Raparperi scheduled to go check out the most interesting product ever to come from Romania: the Dacia Duster. Yes: despite being mostly centred around used cars, from time to time there's a new car that catches my attention. The Duster's USP is its MSRP: for under 15k eur, you get a small SUV, not a small city car like every other car in that price range. Of course, the cheapest model is a completely stripped FWD edition; you do not get roof racks or alloy wheels, nor elecric windows or a sound system. Power steering is standard, which almost surprises me.
First impressions were positive, as we sat in the showroom car. It was a fully loaded 4WD example in a champagney, mildewy hue; shutting the doors with a satisfying thunk and prodding the plastics, we breathed in the Duster atmosphere. "Smells like a Volvo", I remarked. "Looks like Lidl", said Raparperi, as he noted the variety of different plastics around the dash. Soft touch on the airbag cover, hard knock plastic on the glovebox lid, caramel decorative plastic chucked everywhere. But the trunk was usefully-sized, the rear-seat sitting position comfortable with good head room; there was a lot that made sense here.
Leaving Raparperi to look at a used 2006 MX-5, I braced myself and went to the dealer booth to talk us a test car. After a while, I emerged again, with suspicious white documents in my hand. "Bought the car already?" "Almost, but let's go drive the thing."
So, we were led to this magnificent metallic black example nestled between Logan MCV:s in the back. The dealer talked us through, commenting on various extras that the base model I had enguired about would definitely not have (I had in my innocent mind an appliance white FWD one - or perhaps black. On steelies). Started up, pulled off and got ready for the Romanian experience. 623 kilometres on the clock, almost box-fresh. This would be good.
And at first, I wasn't disappointed. Cabin noise was pleasingly low, steering was relatively light but offered a secure feel; the car felt like a real car. There was nothing light-weight or penny-pinch about it - it definitely reminded me of a Clio or a somewhat recent Megane , down to the derpy indicator ping. Nothing creaked, nothing jittered. The car must not have enough parts to rub against each other.
We turned on the main road and I gave the car some stick. There was a raucous engine noise, then I had to change gear. Again and again. Acceleration simply didn't happen, but there was plenty of gear changing for me to do while listening to the engine and looking at the rev gauge. Six speeds, but ridiculously short gearing; sixth gear was useable at 60km/h, at 2000rpm. As Raparperi leafed through the brochure, he noted the 1.6 16V Renault engine gave its peak power at 5750rpm. Redline starts at 6000. Hell yeah. On a light incline, I demonstrated the gutlessness in sixth; "Pedal in the carpet. Up. In the carpet. Up." The engine note didn't change for the tiniest bit.
I do have to admit; while the car has zero grunt, it sticks to law-abiding speeds on the highway with low road noise levels. And you need not wish for cruise control at all, if you simply keep your foot buried to the floor at all times. Simple engineering at its finest.
As we came off the main road, onto some gravelly bits with potholes, I was pleasantly surprised as the suspension handled the uneven surface with dignity. No harsh sounds, and again no jittering. Everything felt well-screwed together. This car could probably be beaten down gravel roads to summer cottages all day long. 4WD is selectable on a dial on the dash, and like the dial, the rest of the four-running gear is Nissan-sourced.
It was only when I parked the car for photos, that I confirmed my suspicions; some of the components underneath are in no way protected against the elements. Surface rust covered the axle parts on a brand new car. The only person to accept anything like this was the dealer; asking about the rust, he used the classic line "They all do that, sir." So, if it's new-car bliss you're after, you must not be picky about a little rustiness here and there.
To be honest, the bodyshell itself had no rust; it was only present on the components. And rustproofing the car well, with these parts sandblasted and treated, they would probably pose no problems later on. But still, having to fix something would increase the low, low asking price. Maybe I could ask for a rusty bonnet for a cheaper purchase.
So, I drove the Duster back with mixed feelings. Chucking it into some twisty bits in a suburban neighbourhood, it felt well-planted on the road and gave a very secure sense of control and solidity. But like Romanian wine, it doesn't travel well (judging by a few sips of Feteasca); it doesn't have the strength that comes in handy when crossing countries, and even when stuck on a train car and a ship deck and hauled here, it ends up corrupted and a little bit past its prime. It would seem the thing to do would be to enjoy it in its home country, without having the unforgiving Finnish climate treat it like it treats Romanian beggars.