Citroen C3 Aircross vs Skoda Fabia

What's the difference?

It's a good car, no question. Individuality is key to Citroen's brand appeal and you get that, too. A comfortable cabin, plush ride and hot damn, it's way too expensive, which is a crying shame. You could argue - as Citroen's product planners probably have - that it doesn't help to offer one in the mid-$20K mark because it won't make much money because so few people will buy it. Drop it at a premium, only lose a few opportunistic buyers but make more money per unit with committed fans? Why not, I guess?

Like most French cars, I'm glad it exists for weird French car fans like me to consider.

Once you get past the shock of the Fabia no longer being a sub-$25K car (because let’s face it, what is anymore?), the fact that it remains refreshingly simple to live with and engaging on the road should be celebrated.

It has its downsides if you need space, and you can buy a light (or even small) SUV for the same price, but you’ll be compromising in other areas.

The Skoda Fabia can’t do everything, but what it can, it does well. Plus, it’s certainly less common than the similarly priced Toyota Yaris.

As you might imagine, it's an individual design. Lots of Cactus cues, like the roof rails, bluff front end and stacked headlights Hyundai, uh, appropriated for the Kona. Curiously, no 'airbumps' along the side despite the C3 hatch having them...

The 17-inch wheels somehow look tiddly given the airspace over the wheels and I can report that black is not really this car's colour, even with the contrasting white roof and weird Mazda 121 Shades special edition venetian blind treatment on the quarter window. Bit of an '80s throwback there for you.

Lots more Cactus inside though, starting with the brilliant front seats, squared-off steering wheel and funky air vents. The little tray on top of the glove box is good, but it isn't rubber-lined, so that's annoying.

The Top Gun handbrake is hilarious but apart from the texturing of the fabric on the seats, it's a tad dark below the windowline. 

The Fabia’s design hasn’t departed dramatically from its predecessor, but the evolution into the current generation has the little Skoda looking more mature and smoother than before.

Some elements like its grille and headlights are a little sleeker and the car looks less boxy, but still has a unique Skoda design language that’s instantly recognizable.

Its chrome grille trim and its set of unusual 16-inch alloy wheels are the clues that this is the entry Select, plus the lack of much badging.

Inside, the change in generation is most obvious in the step-up in materials and some of the aforementioned tech (screens in particular), though the steering wheel is a carry-over even if it doesn’t look dated.

The new instrument display cowl which features the model name on its side, the round air vents, and the fabric across the dash bring the interior into the current decade, though the centre stack’s modernity is betrayed by climate controls that could have existed in 1998.

There are a fair few hard plastic surfaces, though none of them are in poorly thought-out places and don’t let the cabin down too much.

Even for a little car, the Aircross could do better. The lack of a proper cupholder provision for the car - a solitary spot at the rear of the centre console - is mildly baffling until you remember that this car is from France. The French hate a cupholder but, obviously, you can fit wine bottles in the doors.

It's worth repeating just how comfortable and supportive the front seats are on any given journey. Broad but supportive and somehow perfectly sprung, I would cheerfully rip out most other front seats and replace them with these.

The rear seats are less of these things and anyone who forces anyone to use the middle seat should be ashamed of themselves. The headroom is good back there, though.

The boot is a big one for the size of the car, swallowing 410 litres and expanding to 1289 litres with both rear seat sections folded.

There are cars in the market that, for around or not much more than $30,000, seem like a bargain given the perceived value of features like big touchscreens and (synthetic) leather. 

The Fabia Select doesn’t have those things, but everything in it makes sense and, more importantly, everything works well.

For example, as much as I point out the dated-looking air conditioning controls, the reality is they're much easier to use than an in-screen menu requiring the same amount of attention as replying to a text while driving - something that is rightfully illegal.

Simple controls on the steering wheel, a touchscreen that doesn’t require much attention, a clear driver display and a few shortcut buttons around the gear selector mean you can focus more of your attention on driving, without lacking any of the convenience or features you’d expect in a new car.

Wireless phone mirroring for Apple CarPlay and Android Auto add to this, as you can bypass Skoda’s (fine, but basic) multimedia software easily.

The lack of wireless phone charging is a shame, but not a deal-breaker, as the space under the centre stack is conveniently sized. The same can’t be said for the tiny storage bin under the centre armrest, though.

However, the glove box and door card storage is generous and there’s the Skoda-standard umbrella in the door that’s accessible when open.

The seats in the Fabia have decent bolstering and are ergonomically sound, manual adjustment is easy enough and there’s a turning wheel rather than a lever with increments to adjust the backrest.

Given the Fabia’s diminutive stature relative to most vehicles on the road, it shouldn’t be a surprise that the back seat isn’t the most spacious. But as an average-sized adult it feels like the kind of space I’d be comfortable in for a short trip, with adequate headroom, knee room and even a vent.

There’s no centre armrest, though, and the seats aren’t as comfortable as the fronts.

Behind the 60/40 split-fold there’s a generous (for a hatch this size) 380-litre boot with bag hooks, though the floor has some mildly intrusive angled plastic elements.

Impressively, the Fabia has a spare tyre rather than a repair kit, so kudos to Skoda for not taking the cheap (and less safe) option.

The Skoda Fabia has fallen prey to the same upward-creeping prices as many other light cars have, quite hard.

What was a sub-$25,000 car in its previous generation’s entry grade is now a $32,390 offering, plus on-road costs.

For an entry-level light hatch, the Fabia Select has a decent list of features, though is decidedly more basic than the already-launched Monte Carlo ($39,690 MSRP).

The headline tech features in the base Fabia include an 8.25-inch touchscreen covering multimedia functions, with wireless Apple CarPlay and Android Auto, an 8.0-inch driver display, two USB-C ports, plus drive mode selection and a host of safety features (covered later in this review).

For reference, the Monte Carlo gets a larger 10.25-inch digital instrument cluster and a 9.2-inch multimedia touchscreen.

The Select makes do with manual-adjust cloth seats, but does have keyless entry and start, a leather ‘sports’ steering wheel, automatic windscreen wipers, an auto-dimming rear view mirror and auto LED headlights and LED tail-lights.

Skoda says the Select’s features list aims to line up as “similar to rivals’ mid-specification models” and it’s about bang on. But its price might still be a turn-off for some seeking a budget-friendly light car.

One of the great engines in mass-produced road cars today has found its way under the bonnet of the Aircross. Peugeot-Citroen's 1.2-litre three-cylinder turbo is a cracking engine, serving up 81kW/205Nm through a six-speed Aisin-sourced auto to the front wheels.

While the 11.8-second dash to 100km/h is, uh, leisurely, the torque figure means that on the move it's not as sluggish as that number or its 1200kg kerb weight would suggest.

The Fabia’s turbocharged 1.0-litre, three-cylinder, petrol engine makes 85kW and 200Nm in this guise, mated to a seven-speed dual-clutch transmission driving the front wheels only.

Given the Fabia weighs 1265kg, getting to 100km/h in under 10 seconds - which it should be able to do, just - might depend on how many passengers you have.

While it’s not very fast or powerful, the Fabia’s outputs sit about average for its class and price.

Citroen claims a handy 6.6L/100km on the combined cycle and my week with the fizzy Frenchie included a trip over the hills and far away as well as a lot of suburban running. 

The digital display on the dashboard read 7.3L/100km, which isn't bad going without stop-start. It does require 95 RON premium fuel, though.

The Fabia has a 5.0L/100km combined cycle (urban/extra-urban) fuel consumption figure under WLTP testing, with a minimum 95RON premium fuel grade required.

With its 42-litre fuel tank, that means you could hypothetically expect to cover a touch more than 800km before running out of fuel, though that seems unlikely in the real world.

Despite a particularly lively drive undertaken purely for testing purposes, the highest fuel consumption the trip computer displayed was 7.7L/100km, which isn’t so bad when you consider the Fabia’s not likely to be driven hard most of the time.

French cars have a very specific audience in this country, which includes weirdos like me. I've owned Peugeots and Renaults and loved every second of it.

Top of my list after my darling baby boy wrote off our family car (which was bought for him to drive), the Cactus was close to the top of the list. This fandom isn't blind, though - I know what I'm getting myself into having to dispassionately assess their faults and foibles as well as their triumphs and tangible benefits.

If I'm being honest - and it's just you and I here - I didn't think I'd like the C3 Aircross, there was just something about its SUV pretensions. I can't say the looks grabbed me and the inexplicable exclusion of the airbumps made me irrationally cross.

But once you slip behind that square-ish wheel into the comfortable embrace of those excellent seats, you forget the aesthetics (which did grow on me, even in black). 

The 1.2 turbo is, as ever, eager to please and well-matched to the six-speed auto. The two work well together to get you moving, although the engine is the noisiest installation I can remember. In the Peugeot 308, it's virtually silent.

On the move, the lovely ride also impresses, soaking up the bumps (except those aggressive rubber speed humps in shopping centre car parks) while keeping body roll to an acceptable minimum.

It's perfectly fine in the suburbs, even with its limited power. Breaking into traffic can be a bit of a moment, but there are slower cars about.

Where the Aircross is really good is out on the freeway. It's quiet for such a small car and that torque figure makes joining the M4 freeway (west out of Sydney) fine, and it cheerfully kept up on the climb up the Blue Mountains and the brakes and transmission were great down the other side.

Citroen is unashamedly about comfort over handling, but the trade-off for the comfort is pretty good in that it still handles despite a plush ride and being up on stilts.

If you’re someone who doesn’t need a big car and likes an engaging drive, the Fabia ticks those boxes.

In fact, it feels like it punches above its weight. Well, not literally, because while it actually weighs in at over 1.2 tonnes, it feels lighter than even that.

Tight corners don’t faze the Fabia, and its steering and suspension both feel more dialled-in than a car with 85kW has any right to.

Yep, even though its engine is only slightly more powerful than some budget sports cars from the 1980s it feels peppier than it should.

It has some low-speed hesitancy thanks to its transmission - taking off from a stop sign if you’re not in Sport mode can be annoying - but with shift paddles (or a manual gearbox… ) the Fabia could be a hidden gem for enthusiasts.

Its suspension is firm, but not sharp enough that it allows bumps and rough roads to make their way into the cabin as shocks or rattles, and even holds its own on unsealed surfaces at sensible rural speeds.

The Fabia feels playful even on a commute, and the follow-through from the rear-end on a spirited bit of cornering speaks volumes about its chassis, even in urban driving.

The Fabia wears a maximum five-star ANCAP safety rating from assessment in 2021, under recent but now-surpassed criteria.

That’s not to say its safety kit is outdated, as occupant protection scored well (58 per cent for adults, 81 per cent for children) while pedestrian and active safety were also adequate (70 ad 71 per cent, respectively).

The Fabia Select comes with autonomous emergency braking (AEB), pedestrian and cyclist detection, multi-collision braking, driver monitoring, lane assist, rear cross-traffic alert and six airbags - though no front-centre airbag.

It also features cruise control, though it’s not adaptive and requires a little more attention than most new cars - not necessarily a bad thing, mind you.

On the road, its safety tech is unobtrusive, leaving you to focus on driving while knowing there are features there to keep you safe should the unexpected happen.

Citroen offers a class-competitive five-year/unlimited kilometre warranty with a five year service plan if you want to pre-pay.

That plan costs a stiff $2727 for your five visits (or every 12 months/15,000km). That's nearly three times what you'll pay for a C-HR or about $400 more than a Mazda CX-3.

Skoda offers a seven-year/unlimited kilometre warranty on all its cars, which is becoming more common in the industry but is quite competitive for a European brand.

The Fabia is also able to be covered by a seven-year servicing pack for $3650, that being the total price you’d need to pay for the first seven years of servicing (occurring every 12 months or 15,000 kilometres, whichever comes first). In other words $521 per workshop visit.

Skoda also offers 12 months of roadside assistance from the new vehicle warranty start date, and another 12 months is topped up every time you service with Skoda.