So long Chrysler, and thanks for the Lancias

THE THREE cars might as well have been coffin nails. That’s the total sum of what Chrysler sold across the UK last month – a distant final blip on the sales chart of a brand that’s been axed yet again.

You might have missed that this emblem of American motoring got quietly deleted from the showrooms earlier this year, which is why the three Chryslers sold last month would’ve been dealers clearing out the last hangers-on now that British sales have effectively stopped. In effect, these three sales are a bit like fingernails that keep briefly growing even after your heart’s ticked its final beat.

It doesn’t take an automotive coroner to deliver the verdict – what was behind a terminal sales slump was a quartet of not terribly relevant models, two of which were Italian offerings masquerading under an all-American badge. Pop across the Channel and the Delta – actually deleted here last year on account of its dire sales figures – and Ypsilon are better known as Lancias. I’ve argued before they should have been known as Lancias here too because they’d appeal to people who grew up driving them on Sega Rally, but apparently every time someone mentions the L-word an entire retirement home groans with tired tales about rusty Betas and engines falling out.

Chrysler’s other two models are rather more American but even less relevant. I love the 300C’s moodiness and mean proportions – it’s like a Rover P5 that’s been kicked out of school for smoking behind the bike sheds – but its high running costs don’t really chime with a Britain reeling from spending cuts. It’s the same story with the Grand Voyager. In a world full of Renault Scenics and Vauxhall Zafiras we only need one truly massive people carrier – and it’s the Ford Galaxy. So poor Chrysler was stuck with four models nobody really wanted.

But here’s the thing. Sales of sister brand Jeep are up nearly 60% compared to this time last year, and parent firm Fiat is going from strength to strength, having just introduced a new version of the 500. Whether it’s a rugged-looking off-roader with real world running costs (the Renegade) or a cutesy city car every twenty-something girl falls in love with (no prizes for guessing that one), both sell relevant cars people want to buy.

The days of cheap-as-chips Neons, Voyagers dominating the school run and Vipers being plastered across bedroom walls seem a very long time ago.

Fire up the... Chrysler Ypsilon

YOU'D be forgiven for thinking the fine lines of this city slicker have come from the delicately held pencils of an Italian artist. In fact, you'd be right, because while this new Chrysler's might have an all-American badge pretty much everything else is more Turin than Detroit.

That's because Chrysler, troubled by the credit crunch, sought solace in the support of Fiat, Italy's biggest car company, and the two have been sending each other's cars on a sort of automotive foreign exchange trip. That's why on the continent you can buy a Chrysler 300C with Lancia badges and why in Britain, the car known everywhere else as the Lancia Ypsilon is now - wait for it - the Chrysler Ypsilon.

Forget the badges though, because this supermini contender is one quirky looking little car no matter which company sells it to you. It's a riot of interesting angles and curves, with everything from the concealed door handles, the rear lights which creep into the side pillars and that imposing grille competing for your attention. Never let it be said that a small hatchback can't be a treat to look at.

The TwinAir engine, to my mind at least, isn't quite so endearing - it sounded gruff when I tried it in the Fiat 500 last year, and it sounds even more strained in this. It's award-winningly frugal and there are plenty of people who enjoy the offbeat patter the two-cylinder engine produces, but it's not one I enjoy. Luckily, if you loathe the TwinAir rather than love it, there are plenty of more conventional powerplants on offer.

In fact, the biggest problem with the £13,140 Ypsilon is that as a package it just doesn't quite gel - it's an interesting offering, but you can't help feel that in terms of interior quality, handling and ease of ownership a Fiesta or Polo would run rings around it.

Not that Chrysler and Lancia should hang their heads in shame, because I've driven another of their hatchback offerings and it's an absolute belter. Click here to find out why...

Fire up the... Chrysler Delta

ARE you the sort of person who needs a sensible hatchback but deep down has a burning desire to be different?

Then read on, because this is a very Italian answer to your question, albeit one delivered with a slightly American inflection. The Delta might wear a Chrysler badge but it's made by Lancia, the Torinese makers of some of motoring's most memorable machines. It's a family hatch from the people who brought you the Stratos!

Let's get one thing out of the way - despite having a name and a bit of heritage in common, this is not a sporty successor to the old Delta Integrale, which was pulled from UK showrooms nearly 20 years ago despite having six World Rally Championships to its name. No, this Delta is more about good taste and living luxuriously, something reflected in its restrained good looks (although I'm not too sure about the chrome grille up front).

Key to the luxury is that it's longer than, say, a Focus or Megane, and while you'll like the tasteful leather and suede trim inside your passengers are going to love the amount of rear legroom. It's also quiet and lavishly equipped, with a nice feel of quality to the instruments and switches.

But the real surprise is that - for a car aimed more at luxury loungers than rev-happy hedonists - the Delta is strangely good fun to drive. Like the smaller Ypsilon I've also tested, the Delta is based on familiar Fiat underpinnings, in this case the same mechanicals you'll find beneath the Bravo, but unlike its smaller sister the whole package seems to gel much better and inspire more confidence. You sit low and the steering is reassuringly talkative, and if you push it into a corner the worst you'll get is mild, reassuring understeer. As a companion through trickier corners it's unlikely to let you down.

Is the 1.4 MultiAir version I tested worth 22,000 of your precious pounds? For what it's worth, I think it'd be a little more evocative if it came with a Lancia rather than a Chrysler badge, and the likes of Hyundai's i30 will offer you more gizmos for your cash, but for class, refinement and style I reckon the Delta's a belter.