# data.attributes.title
Audi TT - long-term review - Report No:4

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Audi TT - long-term review - Report No:4 | Top Gear

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Luggage, humans and one dog: time to test the TT’s ability to work as a regular ‘car’

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Audi TT - long-term review - Report No:4

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Luggage, humans and one dog: time to test the TT’s ability to work as a regular ‘car’

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Luggage, humans and one dog: time to test the TT’s ability to work as a regular ‘car’

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Audi TT - long-term review - Report No:4

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On paper, the Audi TT is perfectly capable of successfully handling a big road trip, principally because it is A Car, and therefore has a) an engine, b) seats, c) some wheels, and d) some tyres (barely). You can deploy all of these facets to go from point A to point B.

But we don’t live on paper, and a cursory glance at the TT’s shape and interior dimensions, plus a cursory giggle at whatever comedian came up with the back seat would suggest that hahaha no, the TT is very much not capable of successfully handling a big road trip.

Why on earth would you submit to hours of driving a car with painted-on tyres? Where would you store anything larger than an apple and a pot noodle, let alone a week’s worth of luggage? Why is that big dog smiling?

Principally because, dear reader – spoiler alert – it managed a big road trip. And with ease. Though, getting everything loaded up including that BigSillyDog was the world’s least exciting game of RealityTetris.

A small point: the rear bench is not that small. You’re not transporting fully grown humans back there – unless you hate them – but a fully grown dog? No problem. It’s deceptively capacious for such a mission, though a small gripe: the two front seats don’t automatically slide forward when you pull the handle to tilt them to gain access to the rear. This means you have to then reach down to the front of the seat for the other handle to row it forward and manhandle it. Very undignified.

So applying the BigSillyDog’s cover (protecting the TT’s lovely Alcantara rear bench) was not the work of but a moment. And while BigSillyDog had plenty of space to sleep and stand up in the back, getting him in and out for wee breaks was again, very undignified. Attempting to move a stubborn seat and deal with an impatient slobbery dog at the same time is nobody’s idea of ‘relaxation’.

The boot though. Sheesh, it’s really quite massive for such a small footprint. You’ll see from the pics that it easily swallowed up a range of luggage items suitable for a week’s worth of hiking around the Lake District, and without any need to really squash anything in.

There’s plenty of space for that most important piece of luggage: motorway sweets. The centre console and door pockets proved ample, though the glove box was, one suspects, constructed as a literal box for one pair of gloves. It’s tiny.

Not driving gloves, of course, not for this journey. Once fully loaded, dog hair and sweets nestled into every interior surface, the TT itself is… comfortable enough. Unsurprisingly we kept it in ‘Comfort’ across hundreds of miles from the south of England to the north, and it wasn’t bone-jarringly bad. The seats are quite brilliant, the driving position and view excellent, the ergonomics – easy to adjust climate control, intuitive infotainment – a delight. It's a really simple car to use.

And obviously this is a really simple example, in the sense that there were only three sentient beings needing transporting from point A to point B. The TT is not a big family car (maybe a small family car), but the point here is to show that the TT was designed with more depth. As ‘A Car’ – and not just a stylish, expensive, fun to own piece of design that brightens up your day – it can actually work.

# data.attributes.body.processed
On paper, the Audi TT is perfectly capable of successfully handling a big road trip, principally because it is A Car, and therefore has a) an engine, b) seats, c) some wheels, and d) some tyres (barely). You can deploy all of these facets to go from point A to point B.

But we don’t live on paper, and a cursory glance at the TT’s shape and interior dimensions, plus a cursory giggle at whatever comedian came up with the back seat would suggest that hahaha no, the TT is very much not capable of successfully handling a big road trip.

Why on earth would you submit to hours of driving a car with painted-on tyres? Where would you store anything larger than an apple and a pot noodle, let alone a week’s worth of luggage? Why is that big dog smiling?

Principally because, dear reader – spoiler alert – it managed a big road trip. And with ease. Though, getting everything loaded up including that BigSillyDog was the world’s least exciting game of RealityTetris.

A small point: the rear bench is not that small. You’re not transporting fully grown humans back there – unless you hate them – but a fully grown dog? No problem. It’s deceptively capacious for such a mission, though a small gripe: the two front seats don’t automatically slide forward when you pull the handle to tilt them to gain access to the rear. This means you have to then reach down to the front of the seat for the other handle to row it forward and manhandle it. Very undignified.

So applying the BigSillyDog’s cover (protecting the TT’s lovely Alcantara rear bench) was not the work of but a moment. And while BigSillyDog had plenty of space to sleep and stand up in the back, getting him in and out for wee breaks was again, very undignified. Attempting to move a stubborn seat and deal with an impatient slobbery dog at the same time is nobody’s idea of ‘relaxation’.

The boot though. Sheesh, it’s really quite massive for such a small footprint. You’ll see from the pics that it easily swallowed up a range of luggage items suitable for a week’s worth of hiking around the Lake District, and without any need to really squash anything in.

There’s plenty of space for that most important piece of luggage: motorway sweets. The centre console and door pockets proved ample, though the glove box was, one suspects, constructed as a literal box for one pair of gloves. It’s tiny.

Not driving gloves, of course, not for this journey. Once fully loaded, dog hair and sweets nestled into every interior surface, the TT itself is… comfortable enough. Unsurprisingly we kept it in ‘Comfort’ across hundreds of miles from the south of England to the north, and it wasn’t bone-jarringly bad. The seats are quite brilliant, the driving position and view excellent, the ergonomics – easy to adjust climate control, intuitive infotainment – a delight. It's a really simple car to use.

And obviously this is a really simple example, in the sense that there were only three sentient beings needing transporting from point A to point B. The TT is not a big family car (maybe a small family car), but the point here is to show that the TT was designed with more depth. As ‘A Car’ – and not just a stylish, expensive, fun to own piece of design that brightens up your day – it can actually work.

# data.attributes.field_car_engine
1984cc 4cyl turbo, 242bhp,  273lb ft, 7spd DCT, AWD

# data.attributes.field_car_headline
Life with an Audi TT: can a small, two-seater coupe handle a big road trip?

# data.attributes.field_car_teaser_description
Luggage, humans and one dog: time to test the TT’s ability to work as a regular ‘car’

# data.attributes.field_sub_title
Life with an Audi TT: can a small, two-seater coupe handle a big road trip?