When it comes to naming models, car manufacturers fall into three categories. First up are the dry-as-dirt numbers-only boys. As you might expect, these are mostly the Germanic and northern European producers: Audi, BMW, Mercedes, Volvo, Saab. It's all A3s, 325s, 230s, V70s and 95s. You'll notice the odd letter in there and the fact that they think that adding an A or a V or a Z peps things up just shows how unadventurous they are.
In category two, we have actual words. These are mostly the Americans and the rest of Europe, and include the likes of Chrysler, Ford, Land Rover and Renault with names such as Voyager, Fiesta, Freelander and Espace. Special mention should be given to VW, which veers between the bizarre (Phaeton and Touareg) and blatant snobbery (Golf and Polo - but why not a VW Skittles?). In the third group are words with no foundation in reason. Who on earth decides to call a car a Charade, a Getz, a Tacuma or a Carisma?
This brings us neatly to the Terrano. It used to be the Terrano II - surely the first instance of a car issuing a 'prequel'. The reference here, I'd guess, is to a cult Japanese horror flick featuring man-eating terrapins stalking the planet. And driving the Terrano really is a bit like starring in your own nightmare. Short and lumpy, its plastic protruberances make it look like a vehicle that's either been disguised by a sinister spymaster or is partially melted. I have never sat in a car that has been on the receiving end of so much casual abuse from passersby. Comments as inoffensive as 'ugly' would have been welcome. I got: 'Urrggggh!' and: 'You won't be keeping that one, will you?'
This comes as a surprise, as the Terrano is from Nissan, the company that also created the beautifully stylish and feline 350Z - Top Gear's car of the year, not to mention the X-Trail, which at £2,000 less than the Terrano seems to cover the same ground as its ugly older sister, only better.
The Terrano boasts admirable ground clearance, but this combined with its short wheel-base and narrow width gives the driver a feeling that the car is about to topple over. To top that, the engine is so noisy and the gear-stick so long and waggly, it's easy to believe you're behind the wheel of an ancient Land Rover that some demented mechanic has decided to supercharge.
To me, this soft-roader seems to fall between stools. On the one hand it is a well-equipped off-road 4x4 with a lively 3-litre turbodiesel. The blather that comes with the car goes on about its 'grunt' and impressive torque. It does 0-62mph in 13.3 seconds. All great for the country set. On the other hand, it also attempts the street styling any self-respecting urban homeboy would expect: leather seats, alloy wheels, CD, climate control, etc. For all this, you'd pay up to £25,495. But it's too blinged up for the hunting and shooting brigade - and too overqualified for the city boy.
If Nissan was trying to have its cake and eat it, with the Terrano it's only ended up with cream-and-jam filling in its lap.
