Because they just are. And while they are, there's a vicious circle, and younger, keener buyers will stay away unless something drastic happens to change their perception. Well, if this new, seventh-generation Civic doesn't do it, nothing will.

Generation six was tall and spacious and logical. Its morphing into the slightly lower, three-door Type-R was ingenious, but the staid streak remained. There's no sign of it this time, though. Here's a concept car made real: rare enough even in the world of coupes (TT, Brera) but surely unprecedented in mainstream hatchbacks, unless you count the metamorphosis of Ford's Probe concept into the first Sierra.

Look at it. That wedgy body looks like a coupe, with its reduced-size rear side windows and Alfa-esque hidden rear handles. The nose features the biggest strip of transparency since the CitroΫn SM or (for US readers) the Ford Taurus. Triangular foglights at the front are echoed by triangular tailpipes at the back.

And inside? A double-decker dashboard, its top layer containing a digital speedometer almost passing for a head-up display, its lower layer - split visually from the upper by the steering wheel rim - centred on a tachometer seemingly floating in a space with an eclipse-like blue corona seeping out from behind it. All this is set in a piano-black surround, as are the iDrive-like menu controller and the heating controls. It looks space age, but it all works intuitively. This is how multifunctional dashboards should be.

This new Civic is normal-height, but Honda claims old-model-matching space. That's not quite true, because the side windows have more tumblehome (the glass roof on top models counteracts claustrophobia here) and there's restricted room for rear passengers' feet. That's because the fuel tank is under the front seats, as in the smaller Jazz whose seat-folding mechanism the Civic shares. That means a low load floor and the chance to flip the seat cushions upwards to create a deep, wide, bicycle-size load space.

Fine. How does it drive? High-tech Honda has binned its usual, complex rear suspension here and fitted a cheap but space-efficient torsion beam, like a C4, a 307 or an Astra. Oh, the heresy! The defilement! But then you drive the Civic and you wonder why anyone bothers with anything more complex, because it works superbly. There's a kind of futuristic, digital precision about the way the Civic corners - it feels like it looks.

The steering is quick but linear in its responses, and its electric assistance has none of the fog and viscosity found in many such systems. There isn't a lot of throttle/cornering-line interactivity, but the nose grips hard and, thanks to the way the outside rear wheel naturally loads up, directional adjustments are so immediate that you really don't need to enlist the forces of momentum in this way.

But there is a snag. The ride is firm - transverse road ridges make quite a bang. It's worse in the 140bhp, 1.8-litre petrol model, which also suffers from surprisingly torpid performance, too much mid-speed engine noise and a snatchy throttle response. And don't bother with the jerky, frustrating i-Shift robotised manual, however much you like the idea of a paddle-shifter.

Which means that the i-CDTi 2.2-litre diesel, also with 140bhp but backed up by a hefty 251lb ft of torque, is the Civic of choice. It responds instantly but smoothly to the accelerator, overtakes with disdainful ease, has a wonderfully smooth and precise six-speed gearchange, is reasonably if not miraculously quiet, and rides with less agitation. This is the Civic that moves the game on, that offers something new and makes it worth having. Would I have one? I do believe I would.