Skoda Fabia vs Toyota Prius C

What's the difference?

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.

It's as if the the future is firmly rooted in the past at Toyota. The Prius is still undoubtedly clever, frugal and easy to drive, but it is feeling so old in places that the bad had begun to weigh on the good. If you're a tech-head or have a right foot crafted from lead, then there's nothing to see here. But if the thought of saving money at the bowser sets your heart aflutter, then step right this way.

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.

The good news is that it doesn't look quite so quirky as the full-size Prius. The not-as-good news is that it's still no beauty-contest winner. Not helping matters was the fact our test vehicle was painted in a retina-burning yellow (they call it Hornet Yellow, and it's new for 2018) that looked almost nuclear.

Viewed front on, the blacked-out section of grille and bumper gives the littlest Prius a vaguely manta ray-shaped front-end, while the headlights climb both upwards and back into the body, lending a sense of sportiness to this very unsporty hybrid. From the back, the chunky bumper, vertical taillights and rear windscreen spoiler all add a little attitude to the design.

Inside, you'll find a small but premium-in-places space, with a gloss-black stereo surround that angles the main controls toward the driver, while the digital driver's binnacle is pushed toward the centre of the car, displaying speed, fuel and other key info above the stereo, rather than in front of the steering wheel.

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.

Not very. This is a Yaris-based city car, let's not forget.

That said, it never feels cramped up front, with enough shoulder and headroom to ensure you feel separated from your fellow passengers, where you'll also find two cupholders, and an infuriating USB connection housed in the touchscreen - so your cord dangles from the dash when connected.

Climb into the back, and you'll find yourself in a pretty snug space. Sitting behind my own (5ft-8inch) driving position, it's only the scalloped back of the driver's seat that affords me any clear air between my knees and the seat in front, and the space behind my head and the roof lining is minuscule, too. But again, we're talking city car space here, so you can't expect to lounge about back there.

The ambience in the backseat leaves a little to be desired, though. The door trim pushes into the passenger space, and the plastics used in the rear are rock hard. There's a single cupholder to share, and a seat-back pocket on the rear of the passenger seat, but that's it; there's no vents, USB or power sources. There's no bottle-room in the rear doors, either.

An easy-access boot space will swallow 260 litres with the 60:40 rear seats in place. And there are two ISOFIX attachment points, one in each window seat in the back.

We've just spent a week behind the wheel of the Prius c i-Tech; the top model in the two-variant range, sitting above a cheaper model known simply as the Prius c.

At $26,540, it ain't cheap for a city car (and it's $4k more than the most-expensive Yaris on which it is based; more worryingly, it's only $1500 cheaper than an Audi A1), and the standard features list is more a novella than War and Peace.

Outside, you'll find 15-inch alloy wheels, remote unlocking, LED headlights and front fog lamps, while inside you'll leather-look seats (they're actually vinyl), sat-nav and climate-control.

Tech is covered by an  (old-school feeling) 6.1-inch touchscreen that pairs with a six-speaker stereo, but there's no Apple CarPlay or Android Auto.

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.

Under that little hood lives a 1.5-litre, four-cylinder petrol engine good for 54kW, which pairs with a 45kW electric motor. Toyota lists combined outputs at 74kW at 4800rpm and 111Nm at 4000rpm.

That hybrid setup partners with a CVT automatic, pumping power to the front wheels.

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.

If that last section didn't impress, this one surely will. The little Prius c will sip a claimed 3.9L/100km on the combined cycle.

That's very low, and the fact it accepts cheaper 91RON fuel makes it a very affordable car to run. Except... the onboard computers revealed a slightly less-impressive 5.1L/100km after my time with the car.

Emissions are a claimed 90g/km of CO2, which is very good.

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.

In much the same way that you don't buy an exotic performance car for its ability to run to the shops, you're unlikely to be buying the Prius for its ability to set your pulse racing.

But happily, it doesn't feel wobbly or disconnected, either. It's aided by being such a small package, and when you're not wafting silently about in electric mode, and you've coaxed that little petrol engine into life, it serves up more than enough poke to navigate the city, and even to leave the slow-reactors in your rear-view mirror at traffic lights.

The ride is good, too, feeling connected to the road below without feeling uncomfortable, although the little Prius does tend to track with the corrugations in the road, leaving you to wrestle it back into line. That's a job made easier by light and surprisingly direct steering, which feels tailor-made for the city.

Finally, the leather-look seats are comfortable, even over long distances, the razor-thin A-pillars make forward vision easy and it's a very simple thing to drive and manoeuvre  into parking spaces. And all of those are good things.

Not so good? Well, the entire drive experiences feels a little beige and emotionless, it can get noisy and there are parts of the cabin that feel downright cheap. Worst of all, though, is that for a car that once heralded the future, it's feeling very, very dated.

But there are some amazing quirks attached to driving an (almost) electric car, including the delivery of eco awards for using the least amount of fuel (they were awarded for 2.6, 3.2 and 3.6L/100km over as much as 25km - none of which occurred during my tenure). The hardest thing to get used to was the absolute silence served up in electric mode. I counted four seperate occasions when I walked away from the car with it still turned on.

Every Prius c arrives with seven airbags, along with a reversing camera and... wait, that can't be it, can it? Oh... Forget AEB, lane-departure warning and the like, this future-focused Prius has a safety package firmly rooted in the past.

It was awarded the maximum five-star ANCAP safety rating, but was tested back in 2014.

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.

Toyota offers a three-year/100,000km warranty, while the batteries are covered for eight years or 160,000km. The car's six-month service intervals might sting a little, though, but with each service capped at $140 for the first three years, even taking two trips to the dealership a year isn't too expensive. Just annoying.