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The big small crossovers test: Ford Puma vs Nissan Juke vs Renault Captur

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The big small crossovers test: Ford Puma vs Nissan Juke vs Renault Captur | Top Gear

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The small crossover is here to stay. Which gen-2 product has upped its game most?

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The big small crossovers test: Ford Puma vs Nissan Juke vs Renault Captur

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
The small crossover is here to stay. Which gen-2 product has upped its game most?

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
The small crossover is here to stay. Which gen-2 product has upped its game most?

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
The big small crossovers test: Ford Puma vs Nissan Juke vs Renault Captur

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
The big small crossovers test: Ford Puma vs Nissan Juke vs Renault Captur

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
The big small crossovers test: Ford Puma vs Nissan Juke vs Renault Captur

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
The small crossover is here to stay. Which gen-2 product has upped its game most?

# data.attributes.body.value
Standard operating procedure at Top Gear is to photograph cars in the terrain of their fond imaginations. We shoot big bossy saloons on seat-of-power urban boulevards, supercars climbing mountain passes. Not that you ever see them there. The saloons mostly live out their days on private-hire taxi service, the supercars choked in a show-off scrum outside money-dripping shop windows. Today, though, you can’t accuse us of romanticism. As we photograph these new compact family cars among new compact family housing, they’re very much among their kind. I lose count of the older Jukes and Capturs driving by, because compact crossovers have been a big thing for nearly a decade now.

But for nearly all that time, they’ve been pretty pointless cars. Marketed as a sort of stepped-up supermini, they actually cost as much as hatches of a bigger class. Yet they were emphatically more crap in their ride, handling, refinement and cabin quality. But it’s turnaround time. The class is now into its second generation and finally we’re beginning to see the point. And it’s not us, it’s them. Their driving manners no longer induce intense bouts of buyer’s remorse.

Meanwhile the original proposition remains. They’ve got pretty much the space to match a Focus-sized hatch, but they’re about 20cm shorter so they’re a better fit for towns and car parks. So much for logic. Mostly of course people choose them for what they’re not: a normal rep’s hatch. Though surely they’re now so commonplace that the reps must also be driving them? Anyway, reps are human too.

The Juke and Captur were among the first in the class, so as sure as night follows day they were the first to be renewed. The Ford Puma isn’t a gen-2 product, because it doesn’t actually replace the misbegotten EcoSport but sits above it. For reasons entirely lost on us, that lives on and is still selling OK. Top Gear’s top tip to Ford marketers: bring back the Maverick.

These three are essentially small-family cars in disguise, so the fancy dress does matter. In the case of the Juke, it might not be as out-there as the original, but it still tries really quite hard. One suspects its owner turns up at the office party in hilarious socks. Renault is expert at moulding mainstream cars that are pretty without being fey; the Captur, in its forms and its details, exhibits the same talent. The Ford is the most carlike of these three. Which puts it in peril of failing to answer the basic crossover question: why not just buy a car?

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Sure enough, when you sit in the Renault you’re elevated. The height alone is enough to separate it from a Clio even if the general decor is eerily similar. No one of my generation can get their head around the fact that it’s the French who now make the nicest-quality small-car cabins, not the Germans or their proxies. Compare a Captur or new 2008 with a T-Cross or Arona and it’s night-and-day better. Among the three cars in this test, the Captur is best in the back: most room, best visibility, more soft materials, vents and USB outlets. Also, you can vary the luggage to leg ratio by sliding the rear seat.

The Juke, a Sunderland-made Japanese car, also has lavish enough cabin materials – far better than the first generation. It’s also got a superb Bose stereo that tucks little stereo-enhancing speakers into the front headrests. Out back it’s a bit cramped, with thick rear pillars making it oppressively dark and never mind the blazing orange door inserts. The boot isn’t as big as the others either. It’s not a family car, but that never harmed Juke sales.

The Ford’s dash design is, as with the Renault’s, mostly a ringer for the related supermini’s. Except the instrument pack has been swapped out for a digital screen with pretend dials that change colour with the mode you select. You’ll usually select normal, so blue it is. In the back the decor and equipment is a bit bleak, and there’s less legroom than in the Renault. They were saving the effort for the boot, named with astounding theatricality the “MegaBox”. Beneath the floor is a deep plastic-lined bin, with a plughole at the bottom, so you can put your mucky and wet gear in there and sluice it later. Why did no one think of that before? The Puma’s switchgear is plasticky compared with the others, but the real satisfaction comes from the major controls: steering, clutch, throttle, brakes, gearshift. These all have precise and greased actions. The harmony of those control weights is what makes a Porsche feel great, and it’s a Ford speciality at a fraction of the price.

So let’s get tugging, pressing and turning them. The Puma is the fastest car here, as it ought to be with the most power and the highest equipment-adjusted price. There’s an eagerness to the powertrain, and despite the small size it has plenty of gumption even at low revs. For that you can thank its 48-volt mild-hybrid assistance, which also tickles the fuel and CO2 numbers in the right direction. The high-boosted three-cylinder chunter gets pretty pervasive, mind.

The Renault’s engine is a four, and far quieter. It’s the biggest, most relaxed engine, even if outright go can’t match the Ford’s and it’s hampered by long gearing. The Nissan’s three cylinder is quieter than the Ford’s, even when you work it, but work it you jolly well have to. It’s well down on power and the seven-speed DCT transmission can’t make up for that. By the way, leave things out of Sport mode – it just makes the shifts stupidly percussive. Do yourself a favour, use manual mode and the paddles. No more powerful engine can be had in the Juke yet, although there are solid hints some sort of electrified boost will come in a year or three.

The feeble performance is a pity because the Juke makes its way down a B-road rather niftily and it could handle more power. Yeah, we know, these are small crossovers and so it’s not the most relevant aspect of their characters, but the very fact it’s worth talking about at all does show the progress they’ve made. The Juke’s direction is undisturbed by back-road lumpiness, and roll isn’t an issue as it chews through a string of corners with surprisingly terrier-like effect. Trouble is, at lower speeds, the ride gets properly clattery, and on straight main roads you notice the wind and tyre noise. So it’s not that great in the two environments where it’ll likely find itself most; town and motorway.

The Renault takes a more supple approach. Of these three cars, this is easily the comfiest, under the majority of circumstances. Yet, bar a little wheel-hop and occasionally feeble traction, it doesn’t fall apart down a B-road, although the numb steering hardly invites you to find out. On motorways its softness can come across as a want of directional tenacity, especially if there’s a crosswind. It’ll kick up wind noise too.

Given its wellspring in the Fiesta, you’d expect the Puma to be the fun one. On any smooth curvy road, it is. There’s actual steering feel, great progression in its movements, and fine control of roll and heave. Wide tyres and track help with the grip too. But things go a bit awry on a B-road, as the firm ride pitches you about, and the nose darts off-course under the influence of asymmetrical bumps. It’ll torque steer too, and on the straights it kicks up road noise. Can’t help thinking most of those flaws might be the malign influence of over-sized tyres on this ST-Line X version. The mid-spec ST-Line rides on smaller 17s.

This fully loaded Juke comes with Nissan’s ProPilot motorway system: assisted lane steering and radar cruise over the whole speed range. Which would be fine if it weren’t so hopeless at spotting the white lines. The Ford and Renault can be had with radar and steer as options, but it makes less sense with a manual. Still, the presence of this sort of stuff shows that these cars aren’t expected to confine themselves to second-car commute-and-school duty.

Verdict time. If you like the Nissan’s style, go for it. It’s not like it’s going to entrap you with hidden flaws. Its main drawbacks are right there, front and centre: less room than the others, and less performance. More subtly, its set-up has wonky priorities: given the shortage of out-of- town performance, why didn’t they just make its suspension more in-town pothole-friendly? Although the Renault shares a platform with the Nissan, it feels a very different car. And a more satisfying all-rounder, an honest machine that treats everyone inside as if they matter.

In the Ford, the driver matters more. Look, we’re not going to be suckered into the idea it’s truly a fun drive, not when you can get a five-door Fiesta ST for a lot less money. But among these small crossovers it’s not only the quickest, it’s the most chirpy to drive, across a broad spectrum of speeds, although not surfaces (it wants things smooth). Add these dynamics to decent cabin ergonomics and a clever bit of versatility out the back, and you’ve got something that, a decade after the idea was first floated, finally brings the small crossover home.

1. Ford Puma ST-Line X

1.0-litre turbo 3cyl MHEV
153bhp, 177lb ft
6spd manual, FWD
0-62mph in 8.9 seconds, 124mph
50.4mpg
As tested £23,645

2. Renault Captur S Edition

1.3-litre turbo 4cyl
128bhp, 177lb ft
6spd manual, FWD
0-62mph in 10.6 seconds, 121mph
44.1mpg
As tested £21,795

3. Nissan Juke Tekna+

1.0-litre turbo 3cyl
115bhp, 148lb ft
7spd auto, FWD
0-62mph in 11.1 seconds, 112mph
44.1mpg
As tested £25,295

Images: Mark Riccioni

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Standard operating procedure at Top Gear is to photograph cars in the terrain of their fond imaginations. We shoot big bossy saloons on seat-of-power urban boulevards, supercars climbing mountain passes. Not that you ever see them there. The saloons mostly live out their days on private-hire taxi service, the supercars choked in a show-off scrum outside money-dripping shop windows. Today, though, you can’t accuse us of romanticism. As we photograph these new compact family cars among new compact family housing, they’re very much among their kind. I lose count of the older Jukes and Capturs driving by, because compact crossovers have been a big thing for nearly a decade now.

But for nearly all that time, they’ve been pretty pointless cars. Marketed as a sort of stepped-up supermini, they actually cost as much as hatches of a bigger class. Yet they were emphatically more crap in their ride, handling, refinement and cabin quality. But it’s turnaround time. The class is now into its second generation and finally we’re beginning to see the point. And it’s not us, it’s them. Their driving manners no longer induce intense bouts of buyer’s remorse.

Meanwhile the original proposition remains. They’ve got pretty much the space to match a Focus-sized hatch, but they’re about 20cm shorter so they’re a better fit for towns and car parks. So much for logic. Mostly of course people choose them for what they’re not: a normal rep’s hatch. Though surely they’re now so commonplace that the reps must also be driving them? Anyway, reps are human too.

The Juke and Captur were among the first in the class, so as sure as night follows day they were the first to be renewed. The Ford Puma isn’t a gen-2 product, because it doesn’t actually replace the misbegotten EcoSport but sits above it. For reasons entirely lost on us, that lives on and is still selling OK. Top Gear’s top tip to Ford marketers: bring back the Maverick.

These three are essentially small-family cars in disguise, so the fancy dress does matter. In the case of the Juke, it might not be as out-there as the original, but it still tries really quite hard. One suspects its owner turns up at the office party in hilarious socks. Renault is expert at moulding mainstream cars that are pretty without being fey; the Captur, in its forms and its details, exhibits the same talent. The Ford is the most carlike of these three. Which puts it in peril of failing to answer the basic crossover question: why not just buy a car?

Sure enough, when you sit in the Renault you’re elevated. The height alone is enough to separate it from a Clio even if the general decor is eerily similar. No one of my generation can get their head around the fact that it’s the French who now make the nicest-quality small-car cabins, not the Germans or their proxies. Compare a Captur or new 2008 with a T-Cross or Arona and it’s night-and-day better. Among the three cars in this test, the Captur is best in the back: most room, best visibility, more soft materials, vents and USB outlets. Also, you can vary the luggage to leg ratio by sliding the rear seat.

The Juke, a Sunderland-made Japanese car, also has lavish enough cabin materials – far better than the first generation. It’s also got a superb Bose stereo that tucks little stereo-enhancing speakers into the front headrests. Out back it’s a bit cramped, with thick rear pillars making it oppressively dark and never mind the blazing orange door inserts. The boot isn’t as big as the others either. It’s not a family car, but that never harmed Juke sales.

The Ford’s dash design is, as with the Renault’s, mostly a ringer for the related supermini’s. Except the instrument pack has been swapped out for a digital screen with pretend dials that change colour with the mode you select. You’ll usually select normal, so blue it is. In the back the decor and equipment is a bit bleak, and there’s less legroom than in the Renault. They were saving the effort for the boot, named with astounding theatricality the “MegaBox”. Beneath the floor is a deep plastic-lined bin, with a plughole at the bottom, so you can put your mucky and wet gear in there and sluice it later. Why did no one think of that before? The Puma’s switchgear is plasticky compared with the others, but the real satisfaction comes from the major controls: steering, clutch, throttle, brakes, gearshift. These all have precise and greased actions. The harmony of those control weights is what makes a Porsche feel great, and it’s a Ford speciality at a fraction of the price.

So let’s get tugging, pressing and turning them. The Puma is the fastest car here, as it ought to be with the most power and the highest equipment-adjusted price. There’s an eagerness to the powertrain, and despite the small size it has plenty of gumption even at low revs. For that you can thank its 48-volt mild-hybrid assistance, which also tickles the fuel and CO2 numbers in the right direction. The high-boosted three-cylinder chunter gets pretty pervasive, mind.

The Renault’s engine is a four, and far quieter. It’s the biggest, most relaxed engine, even if outright go can’t match the Ford’s and it’s hampered by long gearing. The Nissan’s three cylinder is quieter than the Ford’s, even when you work it, but work it you jolly well have to. It’s well down on power and the seven-speed DCT transmission can’t make up for that. By the way, leave things out of Sport mode – it just makes the shifts stupidly percussive. Do yourself a favour, use manual mode and the paddles. No more powerful engine can be had in the Juke yet, although there are solid hints some sort of electrified boost will come in a year or three.

The feeble performance is a pity because the Juke makes its way down a B-road rather niftily and it could handle more power. Yeah, we know, these are small crossovers and so it’s not the most relevant aspect of their characters, but the very fact it’s worth talking about at all does show the progress they’ve made. The Juke’s direction is undisturbed by back-road lumpiness, and roll isn’t an issue as it chews through a string of corners with surprisingly terrier-like effect. Trouble is, at lower speeds, the ride gets properly clattery, and on straight main roads you notice the wind and tyre noise. So it’s not that great in the two environments where it’ll likely find itself most; town and motorway.

The Renault takes a more supple approach. Of these three cars, this is easily the comfiest, under the majority of circumstances. Yet, bar a little wheel-hop and occasionally feeble traction, it doesn’t fall apart down a B-road, although the numb steering hardly invites you to find out. On motorways its softness can come across as a want of directional tenacity, especially if there’s a crosswind. It’ll kick up wind noise too.

Given its wellspring in the Fiesta, you’d expect the Puma to be the fun one. On any smooth curvy road, it is. There’s actual steering feel, great progression in its movements, and fine control of roll and heave. Wide tyres and track help with the grip too. But things go a bit awry on a B-road, as the firm ride pitches you about, and the nose darts off-course under the influence of asymmetrical bumps. It’ll torque steer too, and on the straights it kicks up road noise. Can’t help thinking most of those flaws might be the malign influence of over-sized tyres on this ST-Line X version. The mid-spec ST-Line rides on smaller 17s.

This fully loaded Juke comes with Nissan’s ProPilot motorway system: assisted lane steering and radar cruise over the whole speed range. Which would be fine if it weren’t so hopeless at spotting the white lines. The Ford and Renault can be had with radar and steer as options, but it makes less sense with a manual. Still, the presence of this sort of stuff shows that these cars aren’t expected to confine themselves to second-car commute-and-school duty.

Verdict time. If you like the Nissan’s style, go for it. It’s not like it’s going to entrap you with hidden flaws. Its main drawbacks are right there, front and centre: less room than the others, and less performance. More subtly, its set-up has wonky priorities: given the shortage of out-of- town performance, why didn’t they just make its suspension more in-town pothole-friendly? Although the Renault shares a platform with the Nissan, it feels a very different car. And a more satisfying all-rounder, an honest machine that treats everyone inside as if they matter.

In the Ford, the driver matters more. Look, we’re not going to be suckered into the idea it’s truly a fun drive, not when you can get a five-door Fiesta ST for a lot less money. But among these small crossovers it’s not only the quickest, it’s the most chirpy to drive, across a broad spectrum of speeds, although not surfaces (it wants things smooth). Add these dynamics to decent cabin ergonomics and a clever bit of versatility out the back, and you’ve got something that, a decade after the idea was first floated, finally brings the small crossover home.

1. Ford Puma ST-Line X

1.0-litre turbo 3cyl MHEV
153bhp, 177lb ft
6spd manual, FWD
0-62mph in 8.9 seconds, 124mph
50.4mpg
As tested £23,645

2. Renault Captur S Edition

1.3-litre turbo 4cyl
128bhp, 177lb ft
6spd manual, FWD
0-62mph in 10.6 seconds, 121mph
44.1mpg
As tested £21,795

3. Nissan Juke Tekna+

1.0-litre turbo 3cyl
115bhp, 148lb ft
7spd auto, FWD
0-62mph in 11.1 seconds, 112mph
44.1mpg
As tested £25,295

Images: Mark Riccioni

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The small crossover is here to stay. Which gen-2 product has upped its game most?