"What's that you've got today, then?" "What do you think it is?" Short pause. "Well, it looks a bit like a tapir to me."
A tapir? The man runs a car accessory shop, so you'd think he would know the difference between a Skoda Fabia and a South American mammal. On the other hand, looking at the Fabia from the side, I can see why that strange little snub nose might have got him temporarily confused.
Actually, I think it's a very strange-looking car from virtually every angle - so much so that if the latest Fiesta, Corsa, Saxo or whatever had come out like this, they would have been laughed off the stage. But I have yet to read a word of criticism about the Fabia's looks in any other review.
Maybe that's because I'm the only one who thinks that way. On the other hand, Skoda has been more or less the pet manufacturer of most motoring journalists from the day the Favorit was launched. The Felicia got even better reviews, the Octavia was virtually beyond reproach, and the Fabia has been hailed as the best small hatchback of them all.
And yes, it's very good. The 1.4-litre 16-valve version I've been driving is comfortable, with an amount of interior space which makes some of its class rivals look like design disasters. It's also remarkably quick, yet according to the computer read-out it simply refuses to dip below about 42mpg on most journeys.
It's the sportiest Fabia, though it doesn't feel particularly agile - yet on an early-morning run across 60 miles of country roads it cornered beautifully. Full marks to Skoda's suspension team for a set-up that is soft but well-damped, which I still reckon is the key to good handling in a performance road car.
No wonder the reviews have been so positive. It really is a terrific machine, and parent company Volkswagen will be doing well if the next-generation Polo (which is what the Fabia really is under the skin) can match its general appeal.
Amazing to think, after years of ridicule, that the Czechs can produce something like this, isn't it? The old marketing catchphrase "surprising Skoda", which smacked of desperation when it was in currency, could be used without a hint of irony with regard to the Fabia.
But let's put a bit of perspective on this. Now that Skoda is part of the Volkswagen Group, it is fast becoming one of the major players. At some point everyone will stop falling backwards in surprise at how good the cars are, and start viewing them in the same terms as Volkswagen, Ford, Vauxhall, Renault and all the others.
In fact, to start the ball rolling, I'll do that now, and say that I don't think Skoda's styling does the rest of the Fabia any justice at all. I also think some attention will have to be paid to the fact that the dashboard on the passenger's side is simply a large slab of plastic, with no attempt whatever at creating those acres of oddment storage space which seem to have become one of the major selling points of mainstream cars in recent years.
And there is too much road noise. This seems to be a bit of a problem for Skoda - the Octavia estate in particular gives me a headache after only a few miles thanks to the resonance of the long, flimsy roof. Similarly, something in the structure of the Fabia has not been properly damped, and creates a booming noise to come into the cabin.
It's not that bad, really, but we're getting to the point where "not that bad" isn't good enough for cars of the overall quality Skoda can now achieve. The Fabia is a truly superb car, but it needs a little more attention to detail before it completely fulfils its extraordinary potential.
Second opinion: Not cheap in this specification, but a lot livelier than the eight-valve version one level down. Fine ride quality to go with that surprising (oops!) open-road handling. Excellent cabin space, considering that it's in the supermini class, where it makes some of the opposition look stupid. Rather austere interior, but that's often the Skoda way. Certainly not elegantly styled, but with such a roomy back seat there's a limit to what the designers could do at the rear end. The front end . . . a tapir . . . well, OK. Ross Finlay.
