12 Jun 08
I first had my suspicions as to the entirely tentative relationship between car designers and a living environment comprised of anything but tarmac, concrete, glass, paving slabs and, of course, chewing gum when discussing the trip-to-the-garden-centre loadspace practicality of the then new Volvo XC90 with its designer Peter Horbury. 'Oh, you wouldn't want to put anything like that in there' he frowned. 'It would muck up the carpeting...'
Interestingly, Horbury now works for Ford (albeit in America), and I'm just beginning to wonder if this doesn't go some way to explaining the degree of visible violence with which even a hint of mud besmirches the Mondeo interior. If ever a space had been designed to remain pristine, this is it...
Hints of unnecessary 'bling' creeping into the bright metal work aside, I've no complaints about the dashboard, steering wheel or centre console, all of which remain effortlessly tidy despite my wife's efforts to clog them with mascara pencils, supermarket receipts, biscuit crumbs, an inadequately charged mobile phone and the occasional gently fluffed lolly (though I should mention in passing that we feel very much down on practical cubby storage after both Discovery and R-Class). But anywhere south of this waterline, mud consistently battles for supremacy, and is inevitably victorious.
The footwells are relentlessly unspeakable, and we've already forgotten what the original colour of the loadspace carpeting was. Worse, children in booster seats seem to have a knack of treading the stuff not only into the seat bases when they put their feet up, but also the backs of the seats in front. The kicking of seat backs drives any parent quietly potty in a matter of minutes, yet even if it can be cured by the threat of star removal from the Special Treat Chart the damage is longer lasting...
