One of the highlights of owning the Eos was its five-piece roof. Its NOT the quickest, taking around 22 seconds, and you have to stop before it will operate not much use in a sudden downpour. Still, its Transformer-type performance always drew attention.
What impressed me was how solid the Eos still felt when the roof was down, and how cosseted I felt when the roof was in place. The car was a bit noisy on the motorway, but the hard roof made it feel like a proper coup, protecting me from the elements outside.
I didnt suffer any of the roof leaks that some Eos owners have reported, but the hard-top did start creaking over bumpy surfaces, especially on colder days. This would have been a warranty fix, but I never found it enough of a problem to want to part with the car for a few days and I didnt have the natural opportunity of its first service before my year with the Eos was up. Like most VWs, its covered under warranty for 18,000 miles or two years.
The only repair costs I had were a new tyre and replacement windscreen, after an attempted repair to a tiny chip turned it into a whopping great crack. It was a good job I shopped around, because the optional Multipack includes such wizardry as rain sensors, and Autoglass wanted to charge me 928 for a new screen. Suffice to say I gave my custom to RAC Windscreens, whose 376 was more real-world.
In coup mode, the Eoss boot has been very practical, with its square-shaped 380 litres proving it could swallow a weeks luggage for two, a large bag of compost and a huge crate of home-grown produce; you can even remove the load cover to enable you to fill the boot still higher.
The Eos made a decent passenger car, too, with plenty of space and legroom in the back. More of a problem for me was travelling with my cello: unable to fit it across the rear seats, Ive had to sit it in the front passenger seat, forcing any human passengers to the rear. A perk, however, was the lockable ski-hatch ideal for carrying long DIY items.