Citroen C4 PureTech 130 – long-term review

This month I have mostly been cursing the lack of BMW X6s on Britain’s roads. Not a situation I ever thought I’d find disappointing, but hey, here we are.

See, some of the crueller members of the TG editorial team have taken to referring to the Citroen C4 as the ‘baby BMW X6’ – a comparison that, it’s fair to say, isn’t meant as a compliment to the French crossover. Put it this way: BMW’s big coupe-SUV has always had something of a ‘get out of my way’ vibe. I do not feel this is a fair brush with which to tar the chilled little C4.

Thus, in a bid to prove how very different the subtle(ish) Citroen and brash Beemer really are, I have taken to trawling local neighbourhoods in search of an X6 next to which to photograph the C4.

Thus far – despite the UK containing some 15,000 X6s – not a sausage: no X6s to be found, at least not conveniently parked. I’ve spotted a couple out on the road, but I’ll be honest, not an easy pitch to convince an X6 driver to pull over to the hard shoulder and allow you to photograph their car for the purpose of demonstrating how offensive it is.

So you’ll just have to take my word for it: yes, there might be some similarity to their tall-coupe silhouettes, but the C4 is several thousand per cent less offensive than the X6.

Part of that, I think, comes down to simple size: while the X6 is a hulking great snouter of a machine, measuring nearly five metres from nose to tail, the C4 is, in the flesh, a deceptively compact specimen: over half a metre shorter than an X6, and 17cm lower in the roofline too. It’s 40cm shorter than BMW’s smaller coupe-crossover, the X4. It’s… small. Very tough to do ‘intimidating road manners’ when you’re barely bigger than a Skoda Roomster.

And then there’s the badge. Does any marque have a less thrusting, in-yer-face image than Citroen? Stick the double-chevron on the front of an assault rifle, and everyone would go, ‘Ahh, I bet it’s comfy though, isn’t it?’

Like it or not, every badge comes with connotations, and the C4’s does a helpful job of dispelling any negative preconceptions that might adhere to its curious silhouette and look-at-me-I’m-so-angry headlight arrangement.

When not fruitlessly hunting X6s, this month I have also mostly been discovering how the C4 handles the mean, muddy roads of rural Devon. And the answer is: really quite nicely, thank you very much.

I’ve long held that something with a bit of squish is a better proposition than a granite-sprung sports-thing for negotiating a slippery, pot-holed farm track at pace, and the C4 – while never exactly a sporty drive – proves the point, absorbing Dartmoor’s terrible roads with impressive competence and impressive lack of terrible-noises-of-underbody-scraping-against-tarmac.

I’ve also long held that anything with a faintly crossover-ish persuasion looks better caked in a proper spray-tan of road grime, a theory that has absolutely nothing to do with me being too lazy to keep my cars spick-and-span. And I reckon the C4 again proves the point, its careful patina of mud, muck and horse manure adding a pleasing hint of WRC to its complicated bodywork. OK, OK, I’ll get it cleaned.