Automotive interiors tend to be rather unusual places.  For example, consider the wood.  The fake—plastic—wood.  Or the real wood that's so sheathed in a polymeric material that it might as well be fake.  What is that stuff doing there?  When I ask interior designers about it, I invariably get the response that says, "Consumers think that 'wood' is a mark of luxury."  I have my doubts about that.  After all, outside of furniture, what other consumer products have wood accents signifying value?  I suspect that it is a holdover from the old days of coach building.  Somehow, with few exceptions, exterior designers have been able to convince people that luxury doesn't equal wood or vice versa.  From the point of view of interiors, it is almost like an excuse (e.g., "Hey, let's put some 'wood' here and people will think that this econobox is really luxurious.").

Every interior designer and marketing person who falls back on the wood excuse needs to spend some time sitting in the interior of the Audi TT.  The exterior of the car has been well lauded.  The interior is quite simply a masterpiece of automotive design.  The one that I was in—the Roadster AT6—has a sticker of $38,810.  To be sure, that's in the luxury category (or at least entry luxury).  The base is $34,500.  And on the monroney across from the line that reads "Aviator Gray Interior" it indicates "No Charge."  That's the interior.  (The base is $34,500.  There is a premium audio package for $1,200; the "premium" package that adds heated seats, xenon headlamps, and Homelink for $1,100; a power folding top for $800; 17-inch cast alloy wheels and all-season tires for $550; and a destination charge of $660.)  There are the nice touches of the metallic round surrounds for the air vents with their dimples picked up on places like the door handle and around the shift knob.  There is an expanse of quality-looking black plastic for the IP that has a richness, not a shiny superficiality.  There aren't different materials at each intersection of components, which is often the case on vehicles.  There is exquisite attention to detail: the levers that are used to adjust the louvers on the air vents are actually textured for a good tactile sense.  This model has a folding top so even the battens are made so that it is evident that they were thought about: Someone in the car would look at them, so they might as well be nicely finished and not simply powder-coated metal meant to do a job.  The leather is rich, not something that looks like it was cobbled from road kill.

Yes, yes, yes, I should talk about how the 1.8-liter, 180-hp engine is turbocharged so that you're able to squirt through the SUVs and Class 8 trucks with the greatest of ease while traversing I-275 and other linear Thunderdomes.  I should note that if you go grocery shopping, you'd better consider the amount of goods and the trunk capacity if you have a passenger along for a ride because there isn't a whole lot of room for stuff in the interior. . .and then point out that not only is the outside of the glove box nicely accented with a metal strip (not wood) but even the inside of the box is lined with material.  It all comes back to the inside.

Sure, the exterior design of a car says something about the person who is driving it.  The TT got me more looks from people—young, old and in-between—than I get in my daily four-door sedan.  But driving is about being in the vehicle.  And quite frankly, the TT interior is the best I've been in.