Micra by name, Micra by nature

Nissan Micra. The name has almost become a ubiquitous term for the car, like how every vacuum cleaner is referred to as a Hoover.

OK, maybe that’s stretching it a tad, but the Micra is one of the few cars that manages to infiltrate the minds of people who normally differentiate cars solely by their colour. My 75-year-old mother, for example.

My mother would struggle to tell the difference between a Lamborghini and a Lada, but when I showed up in this week’s test car, the fourth generation (K13, for the connoisseurs) Nissan Micra, she knew instantly what it was. Albeit not the latest and greatest variant.

Why is this? It’s not as if the Micra has ever stood out from the crowd in it’s near 40-year existence. From it’s boxy, 1980s origins, to the softer, rounded generations we’ve had since, Nissan have never played bold with the Micra’s aesthetic. A trend which has continued into this fourth-generation car.

Presented here in facelifted guise, where Nissan have ever-so-slightly chiselled the very round, cute face with some redesigned headlights, additional (fake) vents on either side of the front bumper (with fog-lights, should you climb the spec ladder) and a new grille, which brings it in line with the Nissan corporate look.

While these changes have sharpened the look of the Micra, it isn’t going to win any style awards, nor would you feel inclined to jump out of it’s way should you see it approaching in your rear-view mirror. Aggression has never been the remit of Nissan’s little hatchback.

One curious styling element that did catch my eye, are two boomerang shaped indentations in the Micra’s roof. At first, I thought Nissan were doffing their cap to their French compatriots, Citroen, by emblazing the Micra’s roof with their infamous chevrons, but no. They are there to strengthen the thinner (read: cheaper) piece of steel Nissan have chosen to use for the roof panel.

This cost-cutting mentality continues to the inside of the Micra, with an interior that is awash with cheap feeling, hard, scratchy plastics. That’s not to say this test car, which is in range-topping N-Sport spec, is wanting for equipment.

This Micra has all the toys one could really need. Climate control, cruise control, Bluetooth connectivity, auto light and wipers, the list goes on and on. The one option I would probably stray away from, however, is this car’s automatic gearbox.

It’s a four-speed CVT unit rather than a traditional torque-converter, which, in theory, keeps the Micra at an optimum RPM depending on how much throttle application is being used. Which is fine when pottering around town but take it to a higher speed motorway for example and it will make the small three-cylinder engine sound like it wants to escape the bonnet.

This gearbox can else be quite jerky when pulling away and when Drive is engaged, it comes in with quite an unnerving clunk. There is an ambitiously named ‘Sport Mode’ for the transmission that can be activated by a button on the side of the gear selector. When this is activated, you can maintain a decent turn of pace down a twisty back road, should you be that way inclined. Let’s be honest, most Micra owners are going to leave this button untouched. Regardless of driving habits, the five-speed manual transmission is a far better unit.

Road noise and tyre roar are notable at motorway speeds, which is in part due to the use of thinner steel in the Micra's construction, leading to less sound deadening.

The steering is light and heavily assisted, which again, adds to the Micra’s ease of use as an urban runabout. The brakes have plenty of bite, if a tad grabby on initial response.

The engine in “my” Micra is the 1-litre, three-cylinder petrol, with 76-horsepower and 98Nm of torque, which are not bad figures for such a dinky powertrain. The 0-100kms dash is quoted at 14 seconds, but it feels sprightlier than that. The fuel economy is a claimed 4.5L/100kms, which is ambitious. During my week with the car, I’ve been averaging 7.1.

Admittedly, I have taken the Micra out of it’s comfort zone by bringing it on a near 500km road-trip to West Cork, which consisted of a large motorway stretch followed by a spirited back road jaunt. To play Devil’s advocate, these are territories not really in the Micra’s design brief. When I was mooching around town earlier in the week, I did get closer to that promised fuel economy figure.

On my road-trip, the Micra was surprisingly comfortable. I didn’t experience any severe numb-bum, with the flat looking seats actually being quite soft and supple. There is also a foldable, captain’s chair-like armrest, which adds to a relaxed driving style.

Seat support is questionable, however. There is no adjustment to lumbar and by journey’s end, I was feeling some ache in my lower back. In the Micra’s defence, this was after a near five hour stint in the driver’s seat, so again, not something of alarm if it’s to be used as intended.

The Micra range starts at €19,195 for the entry PET-Spec model, but if you want a car as my test N-Sport model, which brings all the aforementioned interior toys along with metallic paint and 15-inch alloy wheels, the price jumps to €22,995. It should be noted, the CVT auto-gearbox adds two grand to the cost of all Micras across the range, so another reason for it to be avoided.

The Micra has never been aimed at the enthusiast, but as an easy-to-live with companion to those who find driving a chore rather than a pleasure. In that respect, this latest iteration continues that trend to aplomb.