To Hull and back in a new Citroën C5 X

Citroën New cars Reviews

Driving in Britain is rarely pleasurable. Unless you’re up before the sparrow has broken wind, or you’re fortunate enough to live in the boondocks of Scotland or Wales, driving is more a chore than something to be cherished. If the dream is dashing through the countryside in a classic British roadster, the reality is a slow crawl on roads with more pockmarks than an adolescent’s face and a network of cameras more extensive than even George Orwell could have imagined.

This is before you consider the seemingly endless contraflows, peak-time congestion, and badly driven Jukes, Mokkas and Xsara Picassos. It’s a wonder we don’t give up driving and find a new hobby, like crochet, knitting or weaving.

Having something fun for high days and holidays is fine, but what about the days when driving is something to be endured rather than to be enjoyed? That’s where the Citroën C5 X comes in – the latest in a long line of luxo-barges from everybody’s first, second or third favourite French car company. If anything can iron out the creases of modern life, the C5 X can.

It would be too simplistic to call it a successor to the dearly departed C6, a car loved by the likes of you and us, but largely ignored by the masses. Although the C6 name lives on in China, production of the European C6 ceased in 2012 after just 23,384 had been built. Not a great return for a car launched way back in 2005, so you can forgive our pessimistic predictions that the death of the C6 signalled the demise of the big Citroën, killing the bloodline of a succession of French thoroughbreds, starting with the DS and continuing with the CX, XM and C6.

But here we are with what is arguably the most interesting Citroën to arrive since the C4 Cactus. It comes sans Airbumps, but you’ll struggle to find a more cosseting ride this side of £100,000. That’s pretty much the entry point for a new Mercedes S-Class or Range Rover these days. Yep, the C5 X is that comfortable. In fact, you could buy a C5 X on the strength of its ride comfort and be perfectly happy with your decision. It’s rare for a car to have a genuine USP in its segment, but the C5 X has one.

At least it would if it was possible to define a segment. According to Citroën, the C5 X combines ‘the elegance of a saloon, the practicality of an estate, the robustness of an SUV and the sleekness of a coupé’. The saloon reference is a bit of a red herring because the C5 X has a hatchback-style tailgate, and a large one to boot, but in a world obsessed with SUVs, it’s refreshing to find something different. It also puts the C5 X at risk of failing to attract punters in sufficient numbers, which would be a crying shame as it’s a very, very good car. Accomplished enough to ease the pain of a long drive to Hull and back.

Spend just a few minutes behind the wheel and you’d swear blind that the suspension and seats are made from a blend of cushions, marshmallows and the fur of little fluffy kittens. Citroën calls it the Advanced Comfort Programme, and it’s essentially the modern alternative to hydropneumatic suspension, and no small cats were sacrificed in its development. All versions of the C5 X get two hydraulic bumpstops per corner, while the plug-in hybrid version, as tested here, has sensors that scan the road for imperfections and adapt the suspension of each wheel accordingly. Given the state of our roads, you’d expect the system to be sent into a tailspin, but it works. A long motorway drive is no less relaxing than taking a hot bath surrounded by scented candles while Enya whispers Now That’s What I Call ASMR in your ear. In fact, thanks to all-round acoustic and insulated windows, you’d be able to hear Eithne Pádraigín Ní Bhraonáin if she was whispering her greatest hits from inside the 485-litre boot, which, incidentally, is 60 litres less than you get in the non-hybrid version. Blame the battery back if you’re forced to leave a baguette or two at home.

It's eerily quiet in the cabin, with only some faint noise from the door mirrors to remind you that you’re in a moving vehicle. Citroënistas might bemoan the absence of genuine innovation and ‘proper’ suspension, but in an age of high-riding SUVs with oversized alloys and tyres no thicker than rubber bands, the C5 X is a welcome tonic. The library-quiet cabin, sofa-like seats and cushion-soft suspension combine to give the car genuine standout qualities; you wouldn’t think twice about embarking on a long trip, even if the route includes the Almondsbury Interchange during rush hour, HS2-related roadworks on the M42 and the East Midlands section of the M1. You almost begin to feel sorry for the motorists who are spending a small mortgage payment every month to drive an identikit SUV while having their lower backs attacked by the nation’s potholes, drain covers and speed bumps. Almost…

Having arrived in Hull, we parked the C5 X in the sort of multi-storey car park you’d associate with a 1970s crime thriller, complete with dim lighting and an aromatic blend of perspiration, urine and vomit hanging in the air. The C5 X locks itself when you walk away, which is good. What’s less good is the loud ‘beep-beep’ to remind you, along with everyone else in the car park, that the car is locked. We thought these annoying and unnecessary beeps were confined to television dramas and Hollywood movies. Citroën begs to differ, so much so that the C5 X beeps like a reversing delivery van whenever you open or close the electric tailgate.

The journey across the North Sea was marginally less floaty than the drive in the C5 X, so we make that Citroën 1-0 Pride of Hull in the battle for ride comfort. The ferry should probably grab an equaliser for being able to actually float, but this is a car mag, so the C5 X wins. It scores more points for being a nice car to return to after an overnight crossing. A low loading lip is another reason to choose a C5 X over an SUV, as is the fact that its avant-garde styling makes it easy to find in a crowded car park. You can make up your own mind on the appearance, but to our eyes it looks plush without being ostentatious. It’s the same on the inside, with Citroën using premium materials and neat details to great effect to create a high-end interior. And, praise be, there are proper climate controls you can press and turn, rather than relying on a touchscreen. A victory for common sense.

Bored with motorways, we took a more direct, cross-country route home, via the Peak District, Derbyshire Dales and Cotswolds, taking the C5 X out of its, er… comfort zone. At 1826kg, the C5 X plug-in hybrid is a heavy car – some 340kg heavier than the lightest petrol variant – and this heft is felt if you attempt to thread the car through a series of tight bends. The body-roll feels ‘right’ for a French car, but there’s an unwieldiness to the handling, as the suspension does its best to cope with changes in direction. It’s like attempting the Cycling Proficiency Test while carrying a fish tank filled with water. To make matters worse, the brakes, which harvest energy for the battery, are too grabby and unpredictable, making it difficult to slow down or stop in a smooth manner. If you don’t require the 38 miles of electric range, you’re probably better off with a significantly cheaper and lighter standard petrol version, saving you around £7000.

Speaking of price, to improve residual values, Citroën is putting no pressure on its dealers to achieve big sales, no cars will be released to the rental sector, and each one will be hand-built to order in China. Yep, this big French car is built at a plant operated by Dongfeng Motor Group in Chengdu; it’s called the Citroën Versailles C5 X in China. But fear not, because the C5 X feels French. It might not enjoy the shelf life and stature of the DS and CX, or the cult-like status of the XM or C6, but for its ability to offer something different, the C5 X is a future classic. We also suspect that it will sell in small numbers in the UK, not because it deserves to, but because the market is too wedded to SUVs and familiarity. Forget the road to Hull, because the C5 X is a seductive slice of French car heaven. We want one.