The ergonomics show not one sign of deviation from the long-established Japanese car norm, which either means they're perfect, boring, or both. You know the drill: an air conditioner that has a fan speed knob, a temperature knob, a five-mode knob, and AC/recirculate/rear defroster buttons. A DIN-sized stereo. That right-hand cruise control stalk shared by five other companies, a light switch at the tip of the turn signal, etc. There's no denying that everything works and everything's where you expect to find it. And the radio is placed above the air conditioner for a change.
It's obvious that Mitsubishi chose not to follow Mazda and Volkswagen's lead in equipping its entry-level model with upscale, unique fittings. The Lancer feels a lot like the Mirage it replaced: plasticky. The seats have an unimaginative red-squares-on-black-background pattern, and there's only one. The steering wheel shines at you in all its vinyl tackiness. The seats move stiffly on their tracks, making them hard to adjust precisely. Thumbs up for including a height adjuster, thumbs down for missing a telescopic steering wheel. On first impression, you think "basic," but since the things you're apt to touch the most have a high-quality feel, the interior isn't a disappointing place overall. One impressed 12-year-old boy called my car "tight," proving that the Lancer's body panel gaps and solid construction have an appeal that transcends demographics. Hopefully, that occasional dashboard squeak I heard on the freeway (at only 5,000 miles into this test car's life) was bad luck.
I had no complaints with the front seats, other than their tendency to accumulate mass quantities of static electricity that make every entry and exit a shocking affair. The back seats, usefully enlarged from the last Mirage, have plenty of space but also a low cushion. The Lancer was the last Japanese car to make the jump from subcompact to compact; at just over 15 feet, it's now the longest of them all.
Mitsubishi has always turned to Infinity for its high-end audio needs. Sure enough, the Ralliart optionally offers a 315-watt system with seven speakers. Infinity did its part; Mitsubishi, less so. The stereo's head unit, while easy to use, lacks a manual tuning mode, and its automatic seek literally misses the mark due to spotty reception. And Mitsubishi could use a smack in the head with the Ralliart's 10-inch subwoofer for forgetting MP3 playback. Again.
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