It was the worst thing ever.
My 2006 Seat Ibiza Cupra 1.8t 20v was bloody awful, but I loved it. It cut out on me multiple times, including dying on the A1. If the pope came up to me and said “Alex your Seat Ibiza has a demon that inhabits its electronics”, I would have said “Oh yes I know that”.
You had to turn the radio off before the doors would unlock, and I discovered that the earth would glow red hot when you turned up the volume. Once it just refused to know what electricity was in a Tesco petrol station.
On the physical front it had been dropped off a jack just before I bought it, first gear had an almighty whine, and it would do 25MPG just because it found it amusing. Oh, and it had the most amount of road noise transmitted into the cabin of any car I’ve ever experienced. There was a subtle rusty crust to the sills that I just refused to acknowledge any further, too.
But, it was brilliant.
The 1.8t 20V turbo with a questionable map (that had zero proof of its existance apart from my bum dyno and a “yeah it’s rapid it’s stage 1 innit” via facebook messenger) shunted the tiny frame down at a genuinely quite alarming pace.
The front end was actually surprisingly pointy, and the gearbox came alive when you began to treat it with some gusto. The massive AP Racing 4 pot calipers on the front were fantastic too, and you actually had feel through the pedal and steering compared to some of the modern stuff. The “Miltek Cat Back” exhaust would let off the odd pop, much to the joy of my 20 year old self, and produce just enough noise to satisfy my inner yob.
The interior was sparse
Lots of rattly black and creaky plastic, worn cloth, and a dashboard that would jingle every time you hit a bump hard enough would be enough to turn away most punters. Me though? The steering wheel with a red racing 12 o’clock stripe, white gauges, and “Cupra” embroidered on to the seats were enough to make me forgive that. I’m neglecting to mention the aftermarket boost gauge too, but those should be illegal as it’s impossible not to stare at them whilst you accelerate.
Honestly though, the barren interiors are a blessing compared to the modern world of screens, and they allow you to focus on actually driving, insane as that may sound these days. Rattles and creaks? Up the music went, and a few rev matched downshifts soon made me forget that.
The interior provided a sense of purpose, whilst egging you on to drive in a way that purpose wouldn’t be encouraged in any highway code.
It was hilariously creaky too.
But all of this gave it a sense of character unlike anything else
Yes it was cheap, and battered, and objectively pretty awful. But that gave it a human character. The refusing to wake up, the spontaneous car nap times, the random noises, and sometimes refusing to let you out of it. The spontaneous exhaust pops, accelerating like something off a shovel, and stopping power to pull your face off. It made me laugh, cry, and made my friends and family extremely concerned. It took me to my first post lockdown coffee, covered thousands of miles to work, to Goodwood Festival of Speed, and it provided a place to escape to on bad mental health days. It was seen by at least 10 million people on YouTube, and became a bit of a cult icon. It was brilliant.
Awful cars are the backbone of this world, and you should say thank you to your awful car, if you’re lucky enough to have one, today.
