I can’t think of many people except for Abraham who’d sacrifice nippiness and thrill for so much space
I thought for ages it was called the Seat Abraham and pictured myself as a Biblical patriarch – “Another six sons? No problem. Not much room in the boot, mind” – before someone pointed out that nobody names a car after anyone religious and it was an Alhambra. Without my six sons (seven in all, of course), I found it really annoying; I don’t want to say it’s the only good thing, but certainly the best thing about it is that it has seven seats.
This car feels as if it has been designed for the passengers: spacious, lots of headroom. The younger passenger may enjoy climbing from one seat to another while you’re driving, in defiance of safety laws. This is hypothetical; nobody I know did this. Automatic sliding doors are when you know you’ve reached the summit of respectability, the kind of touch you might have a prejudice against before you’ve realised how useful it is.