A car is a collection of parts. Sometimes, though, the whole is greater than the sum - and sometimes not.
There's nothing radical about the Hyundai i20, a car designed to compete with Fiesta, Corsas, Jazz, Yaris, 207, Clios, Punto and the rest, and due in South Africa in the second quarter of 2009.
It's a neat-looking, rather upright supermini with five doors and a choice of 1.2 or 1.4-litre petrol engines and a 1.4 diesel. Nothing radical, that is, except the fact it has a five-year, unlimited-distance warranty.
It's also, on the face of it, rather good value. Even the basic Classic version has air-conditioning, power front windows, a decent CD player, remote-control central locking using a very neat key fob and a height-adjustable driver's seat, yet is yours for £8645 (about R121 000) with five doors and the 58kW, 1.2-litre engine.
The similarly powered Comfort model I drove costs an extra £800, making £9445 (R132 000), but adds iPod and USB connections, two extra speakers and steering-wheel controls to the stereo, alloy rims, a trip data computer and fancier door mirrors with body-colour paint and power adjustment.
That's all you could reasonably need in a car, but there's also a more expensive Style trim level which adds bigger rims, a metallic look to the fascia trimmings, automatic air-con control and various pieces of leather. So much for the superficialities. Much more interesting is the car itself.
It is bankrolled by a Korean company, was designed and engineered in Germany and is built in India. Cars don't come much more cosmopolitan than this. The 1.4-litre petrol engine is rated at 124g/km CO2, which is very low for a petrol-fuelled unit and corresponds to an official average fuel thirst of 5.2 litres/100km. And it drives beautifully.
Beautifully? Isn't that a bit strong for a cheap car with a Korean badge? Anyone who holds such a prejudice is stranded about nine-tenths of the way through the last century. Brands such as LG and Samsung are now considered cool rather than Korean, because what they are and what they do have transcended their origin. So it should be with cars.
The world might have tried in the past not to notice but Hyundai has long harboured some very clever suspension engineers. Their philosophy has been similar to that of Peugeot in those halcyon days when the French company made cars which loped with fluidity and suppleness along the road while feeling tight and responsive in corners.
Another favourite Peugeot trait, a keenness to turn more tightly if you decelerate in a corner, was also found in Hyundais. Not every Hyundai did these things, especially not the bigger saloons, but the smaller cars' driving dynamics gelled rather well.
CHIRPY RESPONSE
So it is with the Ford Focus-sized i30, with the very small i10 and now with the i20. It's a real pleasure to drive a new supermini that not only soaks up road disintegration but also feels alert on a twisting track.
It's not as focused and driver-pleasing as a new Fiesta but it comes close, helped by steering which, while light, has a natural feel not found in many rivals.
That little 1.2-litre engine does a sturdy job, too. The i20 is certainly not fast, and motorway inclines can overwhelm it, but the engine is smooth and willing with a chirpy response to the accelerator. The only obvious criticism concerns the clutch, whose pedal needs to be set nearer the driver and whose biting point is unusually mushy.
There's plenty of space inside and a big boot, big enough for the i20 to do the family-car job. The glove compartment is capacious, unlike many, and the stereo sounds terrific.
WELL-ENGINEERED
The interior finish is harder to love, although some of the dominant hard plastics do at least have a soft-touch coating, and the fascia's shape does a good impression of wind-sculpted sand dunes.
Greater than the sum of its parts, then. This is a car very well engineered by people who know exactly what they are doing. I drove a new VW Golf a few weeks ago, costing more than twice as much as this i20. If I said I much preferred driving the i20, you would think me mad. But it's true. - The Independent, London