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Progress Report: 1966 Skoda Trekka vs 2024 Skoda Kodiaq

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Progress Report: 1966 Skoda Trekka vs 2024 Skoda Kodiaq | Top Gear

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Skoda’s latest SUV meets its ancestor, a plucky little mountain goat built in an unexpected place

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Progress Report: 1966 Skoda Trekka vs 2024 Skoda Kodiaq

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Skoda’s latest SUV meets its ancestor, a plucky little mountain goat built in an unexpected place

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Skoda’s latest SUV meets its ancestor, a plucky little mountain goat built in an unexpected place

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Progress Report: 1966 Skoda Trekka vs 2024 Skoda Kodiaq

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Progress Report: 1966 Skoda Trekka vs 2024 Skoda Kodiaq

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Progress Report: 1966 Skoda Trekka vs 2024 Skoda Kodiaq

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Skoda’s latest SUV meets its ancestor, a plucky little mountain goat built in an unexpected place

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Has Postman Pat’s van been enrolled for national service?

Looks that way, doesn’t it? You’re actually ogling a Skoda Trekka – the result of the latest Kodiaq posting off a swab of DNA to map out its family tree. And while they look worlds apart, the boxy little rascal from the Sixties shares a lot more with the firm’s latest SUV than appearances suggest. This, good people of the internet, is an early exemplar of the parts sharing that’s made the VW empire – and thus Skoda’s modern produce – as successful as it is.

Really? Back then?

The methods were more rudimentary. The Trekka is actually Kiwi by birth certificate, originally built in New Zealand rather than Skoda’s Czech home. It was a little skunkworks in its conception, a tie-up between local companies and Skoda’s NZ importer, albeit with big Skoda’s blessing. The engine, gearbox and axles from a contemporary (and rather pretty) Octavia were parcelled up at Skoda’s Mladá Boleslav HQ then sent over 11,000 miles to Ōtāhuhu in NZ’s north island.

A lot of air miles…

There was also space in the box for a shortened chassis boasting a 2.2m wheelbase versus the Octavia’s 2.4m. A new body was placed on top locally and is a self-proclaimed ‘team effort’ between British designer George Taylor and Skoda’s Josef Velebný. And yes, we’re aware the end result looks a little like the Land Rover Defender’s precursor, the Series II.

Surely they were rivals…

In principle, yes, but the Trekka was born as a response to import rules. Its Kiwi-born-and-bred status made its $899 price (under £500) a steal, though once restrictions lifted and rivals were more easily sold, its appeal dwindled. Nevertheless, almost 3,000 were made between 1966 and 1972, equating to around two kits being assembled each day, though only a handful managed to scurry back to Europe. They did so with modest power, a 1.2-litre 4cyl petrol mounted longitudinally and producing a princely 46bhp at 4,500rpm, placing the Trekka one whole litre and almost 20bhp down on a Sixties Landie. Still, you got independent suspension and a synchronised four-speed gearbox, so there was a nod to dynamism. If not performance.

How does it feel?

Getting going in the Trekka is not the work of a moment, with a choke to operate and any fumble for a seatbelt fruitless. Which you’ll really notice once you’re bouncing around gracelessly over urban speed bumps. While it’s an ancestor of the Kodiaq, this is no SUV and it cares not for traditional road manners. A coarse engine, sparse interior trim and minimal sound deadening ensure it’s an all-consuming experience over even a handful of miles. But then you turn off the tarmac and onto something altogether muddier and, like any Land Rover born before the Nineties, everything suddenly makes sense.

So it’s game off road?

Absolutely. It bounces around with abandon and you’ll be so absorbed you’ll barely notice that – thanks to its lack of ‘belts – you’re bouncing around too. It also appreciates some effort from its driver; progress is a lot smoother with slow, considered gear changes or even a rev-matched downshift like it’s a little sports car. It’s purely rear-wheel drive and there was demand for a limited-slip differential on the aftermarket to help it better handle the agricultural lifestyle (and terrain) thrown at it by owners.

The Kodiaq must feel a big leap on…

You don’t say. Once the Trekka’s curious production run ended, Skoda didn’t dabble with anything 4x4-shaped until the Yeti of 2009. Even that feels yonks ago now its characterful styling has been replaced by the cookie-cutter Kamiq, Karoq and Kodiaq range. The latter has long been a TG favourite though, not least for its offer of seven seats at an attainable price, and this latest-gen car – new for 2024 – picks up the baton admirably. And no, you don’t have to have it in brown. Though Skoda calls it Bronx Gold…

What’s new?

Skoda knows better than to muddle up a winning formula, so tweaks for Kodiaq mk2 are gentle and mostly centre around its styling and an influx of tech, though not at the cost of interior buttons and intuitive ergonomics. Nor comfort – this rides much better than not only the Trekka, but most of the current family SUV clan, despite its 19in alloys presenting a humongous jump over its forerunner’s 15s. Progress is effortless too, with every Skodiaq now deploying an automatic transmission. Freeing up yet more cubbyholes where a gear lever once dwelled.

Electrified, too?

Good guess. You’ve a bunch of petrols, diesels (yes, diesels!) and hybrids to choose from, with the big headline going to the new plug-in hybrid Kodiaq iV and its 60-odd miles of fully electric range plus rapid 50kW charging – still a relative novelty in the world of PHEVs. What it can’t do is accommodate the Skodiaq’s key USP; stocky battery power means no third row of seats, limiting full seven-seater status to the more traditionally fuelled cars. Still, we’re most tempted by the diesel anyway. However unfashionable that may seem.

Does it have any of the Trekka’s DNA?

There’s pragmatism to it, but it exists more as an undercurrent below the general air of luxe that pervades modern-day Skodas. Still, its ‘simply clever’ touches such as hidden ice scrapers and brollies have their own roots in the Sixties Skoda; there, the accoutrements are a shovel fixed to the boot and a metal bottle opener fixed to the dash. Off-roading is thirsty work.

The Trekka was a flexible old thing, though, offering between two and eight seats and a variety of body styles – buyers could have a plastic hard-top or canvas soft-top and thus a sensible estate or joyful beach version. While exports typically didn’t reach much further than the Pacific Islands surrounding NZ, the Trekka’s MO seems perfect for them. If you’re hopelessly smitten and need one now, we wish you luck – there are apparently six in Europe.

# data.attributes.body.processed
Has Postman Pat’s van been enrolled for national service?

Looks that way, doesn’t it? You’re actually ogling a Skoda Trekka – the result of the latest Kodiaq posting off a swab of DNA to map out its family tree. And while they look worlds apart, the boxy little rascal from the Sixties shares a lot more with the firm’s latest SUV than appearances suggest. This, good people of the internet, is an early exemplar of the parts sharing that’s made the VW empire – and thus Skoda’s modern produce – as successful as it is.

Really? Back then?

The methods were more rudimentary. The Trekka is actually Kiwi by birth certificate, originally built in New Zealand rather than Skoda’s Czech home. It was a little skunkworks in its conception, a tie-up between local companies and Skoda’s NZ importer, albeit with big Skoda’s blessing. The engine, gearbox and axles from a contemporary (and rather pretty) Octavia were parcelled up at Skoda’s Mladá Boleslav HQ then sent over 11,000 miles to Ōtāhuhu in NZ’s north island.

A lot of air miles…

There was also space in the box for a shortened chassis boasting a 2.2m wheelbase versus the Octavia’s 2.4m. A new body was placed on top locally and is a self-proclaimed ‘team effort’ between British designer George Taylor and Skoda’s Josef Velebný. And yes, we’re aware the end result looks a little like the Land Rover Defender’s precursor, the Series II.

Surely they were rivals…

In principle, yes, but the Trekka was born as a response to import rules. Its Kiwi-born-and-bred status made its $899 price (under £500) a steal, though once restrictions lifted and rivals were more easily sold, its appeal dwindled. Nevertheless, almost 3,000 were made between 1966 and 1972, equating to around two kits being assembled each day, though only a handful managed to scurry back to Europe. They did so with modest power, a 1.2-litre 4cyl petrol mounted longitudinally and producing a princely 46bhp at 4,500rpm, placing the Trekka one whole litre and almost 20bhp down on a Sixties Landie. Still, you got independent suspension and a synchronised four-speed gearbox, so there was a nod to dynamism. If not performance.

How does it feel?

Getting going in the Trekka is not the work of a moment, with a choke to operate and any fumble for a seatbelt fruitless. Which you’ll really notice once you’re bouncing around gracelessly over urban speed bumps. While it’s an ancestor of the Kodiaq, this is no SUV and it cares not for traditional road manners. A coarse engine, sparse interior trim and minimal sound deadening ensure it’s an all-consuming experience over even a handful of miles. But then you turn off the tarmac and onto something altogether muddier and, like any Land Rover born before the Nineties, everything suddenly makes sense.

So it’s game off road?

Absolutely. It bounces around with abandon and you’ll be so absorbed you’ll barely notice that – thanks to its lack of ‘belts – you’re bouncing around too. It also appreciates some effort from its driver; progress is a lot smoother with slow, considered gear changes or even a rev-matched downshift like it’s a little sports car. It’s purely rear-wheel drive and there was demand for a limited-slip differential on the aftermarket to help it better handle the agricultural lifestyle (and terrain) thrown at it by owners.

The Kodiaq must feel a big leap on…

You don’t say. Once the Trekka’s curious production run ended, Skoda didn’t dabble with anything 4x4-shaped until the Yeti of 2009. Even that feels yonks ago now its characterful styling has been replaced by the cookie-cutter Kamiq, Karoq and Kodiaq range. The latter has long been a TG favourite though, not least for its offer of seven seats at an attainable price, and this latest-gen car – new for 2024 – picks up the baton admirably. And no, you don’t have to have it in brown. Though Skoda calls it Bronx Gold…

What’s new?

Skoda knows better than to muddle up a winning formula, so tweaks for Kodiaq mk2 are gentle and mostly centre around its styling and an influx of tech, though not at the cost of interior buttons and intuitive ergonomics. Nor comfort – this rides much better than not only the Trekka, but most of the current family SUV clan, despite its 19in alloys presenting a humongous jump over its forerunner’s 15s. Progress is effortless too, with every Skodiaq now deploying an automatic transmission. Freeing up yet more cubbyholes where a gear lever once dwelled.

Electrified, too?

Good guess. You’ve a bunch of petrols, diesels (yes, diesels!) and hybrids to choose from, with the big headline going to the new plug-in hybrid Kodiaq iV and its 60-odd miles of fully electric range plus rapid 50kW charging – still a relative novelty in the world of PHEVs. What it can’t do is accommodate the Skodiaq’s key USP; stocky battery power means no third row of seats, limiting full seven-seater status to the more traditionally fuelled cars. Still, we’re most tempted by the diesel anyway. However unfashionable that may seem.

Does it have any of the Trekka’s DNA?

There’s pragmatism to it, but it exists more as an undercurrent below the general air of luxe that pervades modern-day Skodas. Still, its ‘simply clever’ touches such as hidden ice scrapers and brollies have their own roots in the Sixties Skoda; there, the accoutrements are a shovel fixed to the boot and a metal bottle opener fixed to the dash. Off-roading is thirsty work.

The Trekka was a flexible old thing, though, offering between two and eight seats and a variety of body styles – buyers could have a plastic hard-top or canvas soft-top and thus a sensible estate or joyful beach version. While exports typically didn’t reach much further than the Pacific Islands surrounding NZ, the Trekka’s MO seems perfect for them. If you’re hopelessly smitten and need one now, we wish you luck – there are apparently six in Europe.

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Skoda’s latest SUV meets its ancestor, a plucky little mountain goat built in an unexpected place