TG6

Audi has never been backward in coming forward about the capabilities of its cars – but
this was ridiculous. Sitting beside me, Jochi Kleint, the former European rally champion,
had selected reverse gear, floored the throttle and was sending the new Audi A4 3.0litre
TDI quattro hurtling backwards across the loose surface of a former military airfield in
Sardinia. Whatever next? Shouldn’t have asked. In one smooth movement that took less
than two seconds, he spun the car through 180 degrees, shifted from reverse into
second . . . and there we were, tyres scrabbling for grip, accelerating hard in the opposite
direction.
Not the sort of thing you might expect from a diesel A4 but with the latest version, on
sale next March, Audi is putting over the message that it has taken the car to a new level
of dynamism. The A4’s arch-rivals in the compact premium sector are the BMW 3 Series
and the outstandingly impressive Mercedes-Benz C-Class, so it needs to be special.
Longer and wider than the previous version, with a wheelbase stretched to almost 111
inches, its on-road image has been enhanced, with clear styling links to the elegant A5
Coupé. Both share the same chassis but thankfully the A4 has far more efficient
packaging. Its high-quality interior is roomy and the designers have acknowledged that
adults do sit in the back of cars and that they have legs.
Driving position is excellent and the car’s quiet interior mirrors much of the design and
very high quality of the luxury A8. This is good news but what generations of A4s have
lacked (except for the really sporty S and RS versions) has been thoroughly convincing
dynamics; some understeering and rolling too much on winding roads, and the steering
has not been the best. Later versions improved but were still not up to BMW levels.
Now the picture has changed . . . at a price. Although the A4 range enters at a competitive
£22,590 for the 1.8litre petrol turbo, that does not include the new, tempting but
expensive Audi Drive Select (ADS) system that in Dynamic mode takes the A4 into a
higher realm of responsiveness. It tautens the suspension but also sharpens the steering
with a higher ratio for quicker response. Throttle response is also quicker. The whole
package is a cool £1,700 but can be specified in a simpler form. Even without it the A4 is
a much improved car dynamically and will satisfy many buyers with its ride and handling
combination. But spend the money and that difficult to define thing called “sportiness”
that car companies bang on about becomes more of a reality.
The most powerful A4 is the 3.2 quattro (£29,680) with 261bhp and 0-62mph time of
6.2sec. With ADS at work and V6 engine growling, the car got an “A” for action. The
Kleint 3.0litre diesel with 500Nm of torque was also impressive, but it is only available
initially with a manual gearbox.
At launch, the 2.7litre TDI quattro SE is the sole auto. Its continuously variable
multitronic system is fine once it gets the car moving. However, there is a brief but
worrying lag from standstill before the action starts that would worry me when joining a
busy roundabout. The 141bhp 2.0litre diesel performs competently, the ride is excellent
but the handling a little soft without ADS. Its 51.3mpg (combined) economy and 133mph
potential will almost certainly make it the best selling A4.
The standard 1.8litre turbo petrol TFSI is a fine A4 solution. It feels well balanced even
without ADS, gets to 62mph in 9.4sec with a combined fuel consumption of 39.7mpg. At
169 g/km, though, CO2 emissions are four grams above an important tax break-point for
company car buyers.
Rapid S and RS versions of the A4 are planned plus lower-powered additions to the
range. Further options include mirror blind spot and unintentional lane change warning
systems, at £700 each. An Avant estate arrives next year. Audi has upped the stakes in
the compact premium sector and BMW and Mercedes will be increasingly anxious.
Specification
Car Audi A4 1.8 TFSI

Engine 158bhp 1.8litre turbocharged petrol, 250Nm torque at 1,500 to 4,500rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual
Performance 0-62mph in 8.6sec, top speed 139mph
Fuel consumption (comb) 39.7mpg
CO2 emission 169 g/km
Price £22,590
On sale March 1, 2008
Alternatives
BMW 3 Series Quality, capability, ho-hum styling

Mercedes-Benz C-Class Sport version looks very special, drives superbly, a significant
new arrival
Volvo S60 Handsome, roomy but unexciting
It may turn out that Audi has been just a touch too clever with this, its new A3 Sportback.
It’s called the Sportback for many reasons, one being that if they’d given it a less exciting
but more accurate name, such as A3 five-door, motor journalists might not have
staggered to their feet and driven it.
It’s also called Sportback because it seems that car manufacturers are no longer allowed
to launch variants of existing models without ascribing painful and ultimately
meaningless names to them. Finally, if part of that name contains the word “sport”, the
customer thinks it is sporting, even if it isn’t.
In this business, perception is fast overtaking reality just as surely as style is

overwhelming substance. Why bother making a car sporting when all you need do is
create that impression with a badge?
To be fair to Audi, the Sportback is more than just its capable new Golf-based hatch with
two more doors added. Its length is stretched by 83mm and its look, unique from the A-
pillars backwards, is sufficiently different to give it a fresh identity.
It’s more spacious in the back, particularly in the boot, its extended roofline giving it the
look of a small estate rather than a hatchback. The result is purposeful, practical,
attractive and only £500 costlier than its three-door sibling, all of which may just make it
a little too good.
The range starts at £16,010, which buys an age-old 1.6 litre engine. But everyone should
shell out an extra £360 for the brand new FSI 1.6 litre engine with direct fuel injection.
Direct injection — where fuel is injected straight into the combustion chamber rather
than the inlet tract — is Audi’s current pet technology, and if you look at the comparative
outputs of these two engines, you’ll appreciate why. The FSI A3 (FSI is a German
acronym for direct injection) has more power (115bhp against 102bhp), better
acceleration (0-62mph in 10.9 against 13.2sec) and a higher top speed (122mph rather
than 114mph). Yet it uses a sight less fuel (42.8mpg against 35.3mpg) and produces
significantly less carbon dioxide (156 compared with 170g/km).
The range then broadly follows the three-door A3 range through the usual blend of high
and low-powered diesels, a 2 litre petrol and, ultimately a 3.2 litre 250bhp V6 variant.
But the car that interested me is the 2.0T FSI, Audi’s first attempt at applying direct
injection to a turbocharged engine, save those that have powered the winning cars at Le
Mans for the past four years. For £22,705 it offers 200bhp, a top speed of 145mph and a
0-62mph time of 7.1sec. Audi’s quattro 4x4 system is standard, though for the same
money you can have a two-wheel-drive version with Audi’s outstanding DSG gearbox,
which works convincingly as both a manual and an automatic. Annoyingly, the car you
really want, with DSG and quattro, is unavailable.
Still, I’m not going to quibble, for this new engine is quite excellent — smooth in feel,
characterful of tone, and responsive from idle to red line. It’s a genuinely sporting engine.
But work still needs to be done on the handling, which feels as if programmed by
computer.
Objectively, you can’t fault it: there’s loads of grip, direct and precise steering and
moron-proof road manners. But the feel that distinguishes all properly sporting cars is
still absent. It is fast, fluent and yet doggedly uninvolving to drive, despite its suggestive
name.
The shame is that the Sportback is otherwise almost entirely convincing. It rides capably,
is beautifully built from lovely materials and would look great parked outside anyone’s
house. Unlike its three-door sibling, there’s also more than enough room for your family
and their clobber.
And this is where I fear Audi may have made a marketing mistake. If there is more room
in the back of an A4 Avant, it must be a matter of millimetres here and there; the A3’s
luggage capacity is 1,120 litres, just 64 less than the A4. Yet this Sportback typically
costs £325 less than the 2.0 FSI A4 Avant Sport (though Audi has reduced the price of
the A4 Sport by £900 until October) which has no turbo and just scrapes 0-62mph in
10sec and manages a top speed slightly over 130mph. In addition, the Sportback has the
better ride and, I think, is better looking.
Audi insists the main rival for the Sportback is the new BMW 1-series. I have yet to drive
the BMW so I can’t say which is the better bet, but if you are looking to buy an A4 Avant
2.0 FSI Sport, I have some advice: save yourself the money and get the A3 Sportback
turbo.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model: Audi A3 Sportback 2.0T FSI Sport

Engine type: Four-cylinder, 1984cc
Power/Torque: 200bhp @ 6000rpm / 206 lb ft @ 1800rpm
Transmission: Six-speed manual, front-wheel drive
Fuel/CO2: 31.3mpg (combined) / 216g/km
Performance: 0-62mph: 7.1sec / top speed 145mph
Price: £22,705
Verdict: Dull handling spoils an otherwise excellent effort
THE OPPOSITION
Model: BMW 120i SE, £20,270

For: Rear-wheel-drive handling, great engine
Against: Strange-looking, and a bit cramped in the back
Model: Alfa Romeo 156 Sportwagon 2.0 JTS Veloce, £20,180

For: Great looks, fizzy engine, sharp handling
Against: Build quality is not up to the German standard
Take it from me, when a Nevada state trooper approaches the car you have just been
driving at a substantially illegal speed across his wilderness, it is time to be scared. And
when the sun glances off his mirror shades and dazzlingly white teeth as his hand reaches
into his holster, you’ll start scanning the horizon for itinerant underwear vendors earning
a living in the Mojave desert.
I have a colleague who was recently handcuffed to a prison wall in the Land of the Free
for a speeding offence that, compared with what I was guilty of, was about as serious as
walking on the cracks in the pavement.
“Licence.” Pause. “Passport.” Pause. “That is the most goddam beautiful car I have ever
seen, sir. It would be a shame to find it on its roof. Do we understand each other? Good.
Have a nice day.” It is, of course, entirely possible he didn’t know exactly how fast we’d
been going a couple of minutes earlier and I wasn’t about to ask. But of all the incredible
things this new Audi R8 did the day I drove it from Las Vegas to Death Valley, charming
the pistol out of the hands of the Nevada highway patrol was by far the most memorable.
I’m not sure when I last drove a car that had such an effect on people. In Furnace Creek,
California (population 31 and, since the thermometer hit 56.7C in 1913, the hottest place
in the US), a waitress advised me not to be surprised to find a crowd of gawpers by the
car when I returned. I lost count of the number of pickup trucks I was offered in part
exchange, and the drivers who swerved dangerously across the interstate just to get a
better look. Then again, cars this striking are rare and, to date, none has been an Audi.
Make no mistake, the R8 is a brave car. With it Audi is positioning itself away from
BMW and Mercedes and alongside Porsche, Maserati and Aston Martin. Though Audi
insists the R8 will make money in its own right, its real purpose is to sprinkle stardust on
the entire brand. The only problem is that, as a £76,725 mid-engined two-seater sports
car, it needs to do a lot more than look good: it needs to offer an outstanding driving
experience, not something many Audis have been noted for in the past.
But this one will be. From a company that’s carved a reputation for making cars better to
look at than they are to drive, the R8 is little short of astonishing. By combining an
aluminium chassis and body with a 420bhp 4.2 litre V8 motor, Audi has got the essential
formula of providing big power in a lightweight package spot on. Forget the stats —
though 0-62mph in 4.6sec and a top speed of 187mph tend to linger in the mind — it is
the sheer majesty of its performance that stays with you.
The V8 is a masterpiece, rasping and roaring all the way to an 8250rpm red line; the
manual gearbox is as good as any I’ve known (I’ve not tried the automatic but the
consensus is it’s to be avoided) and you have to make a conscious effort not to go
slamming through gear after gear at every opportunity, just because you can.
But even Audi knows how to make a car quick in a straight line; where the R8 departs so
radically from the script is through the corners. The road from Furnace Creek to
Badwater, which at 282ft below sea level is the lowest place in America, could have been
made for the R8. Its swooping curves proved the outstanding grip of the R8’s chassis, its
tight turns the efficacy of its all-wheel-drive hardware.
It uses the same aluminium spaceframe construction as the Lamborghini Gallardo (Audi
bought the Italian company in 1998) and like the Gallardo has double wishbone
suspension. The R8 also offers the option of “magnetic ride”, a system that applies
varying currents to electromagnets on the dampers to change the viscosity of the fluid,
stiffening the suspension for certain driving conditions.
No, it didn’t talk to you through the steering as a Porsche 911 would, but it came closer
than I’d ever have believed an Audi could. It was a car I wanted to drive as hard and far
as I could and it was only the spectre of another roadside interview with a less
understanding member of the law enforcement community that made me turn around and
slink slowly back to Vegas.
And it was only then, when I asked it to turn from toy to transport, that I focused on some
significant faults. Its boot is smaller than a 911’s yet, unlike the Porsche, there is only a
small ledge instead of rear seats to use as extra stowage. Thick front pillars, dreadful
over-the-shoulder visibility and a sizable blind spot means R8s will be damaged while
parking and changing lanes; and the optional ceramic brakes, for all their power, felt
overassisted and grabby. Audi says it is aware of this latter problem and will have cured
it before the car goes on sale in the summer.
As a pure driving machine, I’d say a 911 still outpoints the R8, but when you consider the
Audi’s looks and exclusivity (only 3,000 will be made each year, less than a third of the
911s produced), it’s clear Audi’s first attempt at building a supercar has been a huge and
unlikely success.
And it doesn’t end here. Look in the engine bay of an R8 and you’ll see an apparently
pointless gap between the engine and cabin bulkhead; you won’t get a word of
explanation from Audi about it, but in fact it’s needed to accommodate the 520bhp 5.2
litre V10 engine Audi is preparing to install in the R8 next year. Its top speed should be
considerably in excess of 200mph and all I hope is I’m the one who, safely and legally of
course, gets to prove it.
Vital statistics
Model Audi R8
Engine type 4163cc, eight cylinders
Power/Torque 420bhp@7800rpm/317 lb ft @ 3500rpm
Fuel/CO2 19.3mpg (combined cycle)/349g/km
Performance 0-62mph: 4.6sec / Top speed: 187mph
Price £76,725
Verdict: Audi’s first supercar is a first-rate effort

Rating 4/5
Date of release Summer
The opposition
Model Aston V8 Vantage £82,800

For Fabulous to look at, exclusivity
Against Dials hard to read, 911 is better
Model Porsche 911 Carrera 4S £71,980

For The ultimate everyday supercar
Against Ubiquity, dull looks, 2WD is better
This’ll shake you, 007

In Devil May Care, the new James Bond novel by Sebastian Faulks, the world’s greatest
secret agent is depicted driving not an Aston Martin, but a Bentley. Surprised? Me too.
It’s true that Ian Fleming never intended his superhero to be an Aston man (in the books
Astons were mere MI6 pool cars), making it clear from the start that 007 was a Bentley
boy through and through; but that was more than half a century ago, since when the cars
that Bond drives have become more multiplex than bookshelf.
So suspicious was I of this curious turn of events that I put it to Bentley that it had given
Faulks a bung to get Bond back behind one of its wheels, but the car maker was
categorical that no such deal had been struck. Nevertheless, the timing of the book’s
release gave Bentley the perfect springboard for the launch of its latest creation, the
£133,300 Continental Flying Spur Speed.
Thanks to a 600bhp motor, it is the fastest four-door car on sale. Its interior is truly
opulent and its engine boasts frankly bewildering performance (it weighs almost 2½ tons
yet will hit 60mph from rest in 4.5sec and 100mph in 6sec more). Despite such
performance, I’m fairly confident this Bentley would not be to 007’s taste, for this is a car
that doesn’t know quite what it wants to be, a problem for which Bond would have little
understanding or sympathy.
At its heart, the Flying Spur Speed remains a luxury cruiser. It’s large and upright,
featuring a less slanted radiator than on the standard Flying Spur and more pronounced
lower air intakes that contribute to a rather staid appearance. And while it handles well
enough for something of its size and weight, by the standards of sports saloons (the
BMW M5 springs most readily to mind), it feels cumbersome, inert and unrewarding.
In an attempt to make the car feel sporting rather than merely fast, Bentley has lowered
and stiffened the suspension and fitted 20in wheels, compromising the ride quality and
comfort that were once among the car’s most compelling assets. On one of the few quiet
roads in Massachusetts, and to paraphrase our chum with the Walther PPK, it left me ever
so slightly shaken and insufficiently stirred.
Many of Bentley’s more enduring strengths remain unaffected, among them the
outstanding quality of the beautifully designed and spacious cabin. And one vital area has
been substantially improved, with interior noise levels now beating every conceivable
competitor. However, these are all qualities you can enjoy in the standard Flying Spur.
Indeed, having flown to Boston to drive the Flying Spur Speed, I returned substantially
more impressed by its understated stablemate, which I had not expected to be there. Even
without the expensive Speed specification, the normal Spur remains a mighty fast car,
capable of hitting 60mph in less than 5sec and continuing to more than 200mph,
whatever Bentley may say about 194mph being its limit. Its engine is quieter still, the
tyres make less noise and the suspension is more forgiving.
The standard Spur is the most refined and comfortable production car to sport a winged B
on its nose and is at the very least a match for the S-class Mercedes. Yet it has a charm
and a character its mass-produced rival would simply not understand.
Most surprisingly of all, thanks to its less outrageous tyres and lighter steering, it feels
more pleasant to drive than the Speed – perhaps not quite so fast but to my mind a car
that handles better. And it costs £15,800 less. Don’t expect Bentley’s customers to take
my word for it, though.
Bentley is making no predictions as to whether the Speed will outsell its subtler sister but
I have little doubt it will. I can’t see many people with that amount of cash to throw at a
new Bentley deciding to save themselves a few grand and go for the one without the big
wheels, the grunty engine and the lowered suspension. Who would want to find
themselves outgunned in the golf club car park, after all?
The real test for this car is still to come. Next year sees the arrival of a smaller, less
expensive Rolls-Royce and Aston Martin’s forthcoming four-door Rapide. That will be a
three-way contest worth watching.
Vital statistics
Model Bentley Continental Flying Spur Speed

Engine type 5998cc, W12
Power/Torque 600bhp @ 6000rpm / 538 lb ft @ 1750rpm
Transmission Six-speed automatic
Fuel/CO2 17mpg (combined cycle) / 396g/km
Road tax G (£400 for 12 months)
Price £133,300
Verdict Faster but less likeable than the standard Spur
Date of release Now
The opposition
Model Mercedes-Benz S 65 AMG £149,055

For Outrageous performance; well built
Against Very expensive; lacks bespoke image
Model BMW 740Li £85,550

For Smooth V12 power; good handling
Against Unattractive; lacks distinction
I remember it well: a Saturday in October 1993, a huge bouquet of flowers, a cool bottle
of champagne, the dog gambolling in the autumn sunshine, anxious to get in on the party.
It was the ceremony of the keys, but instead of locking up the Tower of London this was
all about unlocking our new BMW 3 Series Coupé, just delivered by Alan, the salesman,
who was clutching the goodies — and the keys to the shiny blue machine.
Some BMW dealers do things such as this and it is a great start to a relationship with
them and with the car, but mostly the champagne helped to reduce my shock at spending
so much money.
Now, in its fourteenth year and with more than 140,000 reliable miles beneath its mildly
scuffed alloys but still looking remarkably smart, the aged Coupé has become a family
fixture, handed from one member to another and now owned by Patrick, who graduated
to it from a weary old Metro that had seen him through university. Insurance costs him
almost as much as the car is worth, but the Coupé’s image, all these years on, is still as
cool as that bottle of champagne.
But what if it had been an old diesel — would it still be cool, would he be seen anywhere
near it? In the early 1990s, there was no diesel 3 Series Coupé; even the thought would
have been anathema to most BMW owners.
How things have changed. Today, the star of the latest generation of 3 Series Coupés is
the diesel 335d. Its 3.0-litre, 286bhp, six-cylinder, bi-turbo engine even eclipses the
petrol-powered 335i. Not in outright performance — although it is only slightly behind
— but in its overall ability to accelerate with determination.
It barely pauses for breath as the smaller of its turbochargers gets things moving before
handing the booster baton to the larger to continue the power delivery, engine and six-
speed automatic gearbox working in slick harmony to serve up maximum benefit from
the 580Nm of torque available from only 1,750rpm.
“Sporting diesels”, as BMW calls them, are thoroughly satisfying to drive and people
who continue in their cloth-eared determination to write off diesel power as noisy,
smelly, lugubrious and fit only for vans, rep-mobiles and people who make every journey
an economy run are just plain wrong.
Well, almost, because the 335d Coupé is very economical. Official combined fuel
consumption figure is 37.7mpg and I averaged 41mpg for a 250-mile trip on a mix of
motorway, main and rural roads.
But this car is not only about frugal high performance. Its handling is a revelation, with a
lashed-down feeling that makes the car feel controllable and precise. Steering is slightly
heavy but exactly right for the car. Ride, though, is very firm for a luxury coupé. The
planned M Sport version will be even firmer.
More than just a 2+2, the Coupé will carry four adults, but rear seat knee-room is limited.
The rear seat backrest folds down to expand the already large (430 litres) boot.
Standard equipment is comprehensive, with lots of safety-enhancing chassis electronics,
plus hill-start assistance, cruise control, run-flat tyres, automatic transmission, electric
sports seats — and a seatbelt, with Jeeves mode, that hands itself to you when the door
closes.
Price is £35,475, but many buyers will opt for extras including Bluetooth telephone
preparation (£535), navigation system (£1,970) and a sunroof (£675). As for the Coupé’s
exterior aesthetics, they are impressive at the front, rather heavy and bland at the rear.
However, it passed the “look at me I’m cool” test on a busy M25, attracting and nods of
appreciation. The M Sport Coupé will have added styling details.
Did the mobile audience know that it was a diesel? In 2007 it makes no difference; it is
cool and I suspect that, like our old car, will always be — even on the run-up to its
fourteenth birthday.
Specification
Car BMW 335d SE Coupé

Engine Diesel, 3.0-litre with 286 PS, 580Nm of torque
Performance 0-62mph in 6.1sec, top speed 155mph
Economy combined 37.7mpg
Emissions 200g/km
Price £35,475
On sale Now
The rivals
Peugeot 407 Coupé

Stylish, comfortable, excellent 2.7-litre V6 diesel engine
Mercedes-Benz CLK Coupé

Elegant 320 cdi 224bhp, seven-speed auto gearbox. Styling showing its age
Audi A5 Coupé
Coming this summer, should be very good and includes a 3.0-litre turbo-diesel
It is a sign both of the times in which we live and the raw potential of this new
BMW 335i Coupé that the pre-drive briefing at the car’s launch in Innsbruck was
conducted not by some BMW big cheese but the police. The Austrian constabulary were
keen not to spend the afternoon digging us out of the Tyrolean scenery and were not shy
about saying so.
You may think this says more about British motoring journalists than anything we were
about to drive but our assessment-to-accident ratio is actually rather good. Even so, they
did refer darkly to an “earlier incident”, and I suspect it was thoughts of what happens
when a 306bhp, rear-drive BMW meets a throttle-happy hack on a streaming wet
mountain road that had them appealing to us to behave.
They need not have worried. Now that the M3 is out of production the 335i takes over the
mantle of fastest 3-series, but even on the treacherous roads that BMW selected, not once
did it give cause for concern.
We were here not only to try BMW’s new twin-turbo 3 litre engine but also the 3-series’
third body style, after the Saloon and Touring shapes. I care little for the new coupé’s
styling. Having been so adventurous in the styling of cars like the 5, 6 and 7-series (and
walked into a storm of criticism), BMW has tried to be conservative and ended up being
bland. There is some sense of purpose about the front, but the side is oddly proportioned
and the back verging on the insipid.
But there’s nothing dull about what’s under the bonnet. BMW hates turbocharged petrol
engines so much that it has only ever made two, and none in the past 20 years. As it has
been quick to say when asked about rivals’ engines, turbos kill throttle response and
guzzle fuel.
Now, however, BMW has embraced the turbocharger like a long-lost son. By marrying a
new form of direct fuel injection to two small, low-pressure turbos, the theory is you get
the power and torque for which turbo motors are famous without the drawbacks.
And so it proves. You would never twig this engine was turbocharged. It offers maximum
torque at just 1300rpm and when you hit the accelerator it responds at once. It can hit
62mph from rest in 5.5sec on its way to a restricted 155mph top speed, and BMW’s
boffins say that in the real world it is as quick as the M3. Yet you can still expect it to
return 30mpg on a quiet run. Which is more than you’ll be able to say about next year’s
new V8-powered M3, which will have at least another 100bhp.
And this engine’s been married to a chassis of near equal ability. So long as you don’t opt
for BMW’s awful active steering system the 335i handles brilliantly. BMW knows that
making you feel at home at the wheel is achieved only when, through the feel imparted
by the steering and chassis, the driver is kept fully informed of conditions underfoot. It
does this superbly, though the price you pay is an exceedingly firm ride.
It’s worth it. The 335i’s showroom qualities are strong, too. Unlike coupés such as the
Alfa Romeo Brera and new Audi TT, the 335i offers adequate space for four adults, so
can be used as a family car. Its only true rival is the Mercedes-Benz CLK, but to get a
Merc with similar power will cost £46,740. The 335i Coupé is priced at £33,420.
Should you buy one? Probably not. While the 335i Coupé is tempting, there’s another 3
litre twin-turbo model that’s likely to be even more compelling just around the corner.
The 335d is powered by the same 286bhp diesel engine that gives the larger 535d such
outrageous performance, but because it’s being installed in the smaller, lighter 3-series
body, it’s going to be even faster and more frugal — hitting 62mph just 0.6sec after its
petrol-powered brother, but returning 37.2mpg in the combined cycle. And with even
more torque, in the real world it’s going to feel faster still. And it should cost little or no
more than the car you see here.
The true beauty of the 335i Coupé is found not in its awkward appearance, but in the
depth of engineering excellence beneath the surface. It might not be much to look at, but
to drive it is little less than gorgeous.
THE OPPOSITION
Model Mercedes-Benz CLK 500 £46,740

For Smooth and characterful V8, excellent ride quality
Against Dull appearance, should be more fun to drive
Model Alfa Romeo Brera 3.2 JTS V6 Q4 SV £29,850

For Looks great from some angles, high quality interior
Against Not sufficiently fast or fun to drive, joke rear seats
I first drove a car at 150mph exactly 20 years ago. It was a Ferrari. I can remember the
anticipation as the toll booth barrier released me onto a deserted French autoroute and I
booted it. Its 3 litre V8 engine got me to 135mph fairly quickly but that last 15mph took
an age. After howling at me for what seemed like days, the engine finally pushed the
speedo needle to the magic ton-and-a-half mark.
I did 150mph again last week, but in rather different circumstances. This time I was not
in an Italian supercar but a 2 litre diesel saloon. Again it took a long time, and I can’t
vouch for the accuracy of its speedo, but what I do know is that, given a sufficiently long
stretch of road, the new BMW 320d will comfortably reach 150mph. Twenty years ago
you’d have struggled to find a 2 litre diesel that would do 100mph.
Such is the pace of change in this industry in general and at BMW in particular that with
the new 3-series BMW finds itself in the curious position of replacing a car that’s still the
best in its class and selling in massive numbers despite being six years old. Last year in
Britain it outsold the likes of the Vauxhall Vectra and Volkswagen Polo.
Although the coupé, touring and cabriolet models will continue until they’re gradually
superseded over the next two years, the new saloon will be in the showrooms from
March. It is slightly larger in every direction, considerably less attractive and even more
able than the car it replaces.
The showpiece of the new range is clearly the 320d. It will sell as many as all the other 3-
series models put together and, for the money, it offers the best value.
In SE trim the 320d costs £24,390, or just £1,800 more than a similarly specified 320i.
Yet it offers more power (163bhp v 150bhp) and better acceleration (0-62mph in 8.3sec v
9sec). It will also depreciate much more slowly, but the killer is its fuel consumption: this
car, which even BMW says will do 140mph, will return around 50mpg. The petrol car
can’t get close to 40mpg.
These figures are extraordinary. A shame, then, that such a superlative engine is fitted to
such a disappointing looking car. It’s not ugly like the 1-series or 7-series. BMW couldn’t
afford to risk doing anything radical to a car responsible for 60% of its sales. If anything,
it has been too conservative. The car is bland on the outside, drab on the inside and a poor
shadow of its sleek looking predecessor. It looks like a committee car. When I tested it in
Spain it attracted very little attention, even after a couple of hundred miles in and out of
Spanish towns.
Once, I got stopped by the police. They had a good look over the car but even after I had
won them over and got chatting they seemed unaware they were in the presence of
perhaps the most important car to be launched in Europe this year.
BMW has worked hard on the interior and has liberated more leg and shoulder room in
the back. Then again it has largely negated these advances by reducing headroom. If
you’re 6ft or more, the rear of the cabin will be as off-limits as ever.
But owners of this, the fifth generation of the 3-series, will never sit in the back and will
care rather more about how it drives. And by its class standards it is exceptional. Quicker
and dramatically more refined than its closest rival, the noisy Audi A4 2.0TDI, it rides
and handles with more aplomb, too. On the motorway the engine remains unobtrusive
even at high speeds and when the roads start to curve you’ll find the 3-series a more
willing partner than ever. There’s more grip, the steering is sharp and full of feel and, in
extremis, its manners are utterly impeccable.
The other 3-series I drove, the £28,455 330iSE, was slightly less impressive, not least
because BMW had chosen to fit it with its ghastly (and mercifully optional) active
steering system. This varies the steering’s gearing according to road speed with the result
that you never quite know how far the car is going to turn when you move the wheel. But
its new 3 litre 258bhp engine is a masterpiece, hurling this staid-looking saloon to 62mph
in 6.3sec. It would go past 155mph, too, were it not for electronic intervention.
But the little diesel is the star and the only thing that really depresses me is that it’s soon
to become the weapon of choice for all those thousands of neanderthal single males who
currently use the 3-series as a guided missile in their quest to get from one end of the
motorway to the other faster than anyone else. I can already hear the drooling.
BMW is not to be blamed for the excesses of its customers. Unlike its last effort, the
deeply disappointing 1-series, BMW has judged the 3-series if not to perfection then
certainly to a level damn near to it. It may look a little dull inside and out, but do not let
that mask the true significance of the new 3-series: the finest small saloon in the world
just got a whole lot better.
Vital statistics
Model BMW 320d SE
Engine type Four-cylinder in line, 1995cc
Fuel/CO2 49.6mpg (combined) / 153g/km
Performance 0-62mph: 8.3sec / Top speed: 140mph (officially)
Price £24,390
Verdict The best small saloon in the world
Rating 4/5
The opposition
Model Mercedes C220 CDI Classic SE, £24,650

For Comfortable ride, good handling, frugality
Against Limited performance, too costly
Model Audi A4 2.0 TDI SE, £21,950

For Great-looking and beautifully built
Against Noisy engine, chassis not up to BMW's
The BMW Z8. It’s a cracking good motor, this. Looks a bit like a Chevrolet
Corvette, which is absolutely fine by me. I love those Yankee muscle cars; the Shelby
Mustang, the Dodge Charger, the Chevrolet Camaro Z28. Funny? Z28? Sounds like Z8.
Any connection, do you think? Anyway, there it is, a German modern muscle car
extruded from old American V8s to appeal to an American market.
They love BMWs in the States, so a car like this is highly sought after. Over here,
however, where it’s only available in left-hand drive, it has had a lukewarm reception.
Which can only be because British motoring journalists can’t drive and know nothing
about taste — I don’t mean you, Jeremy darling. Well, they can’t drive as well as me, I’ll
bet.
How could they not love this baby? Yes, of course it will not stay with a Porsche or a
Ferrari through the turns, but as there are no turns in America, only Stop and Go — and
this car is very good at the latter — why get all stressy about a little thing like handling?
Anyway, bad handling gives it personality.
“Grunt” is a technical term we used to have in Formula One to describe the power
delivery from the engine, as in: “This engine has no grunt” and “If I had more grunt I
could beat Michael Schumacher, no problem”. The Z8 has an engine also found in the
BMW M5 super-saloon and has so much grunt it makes you smile like a dog that has just
broken wind in the drawing room and knows a human is going to get the blame. And it
has a sound so deep and warm that it makes babies go to sleep in less than six seconds.
Just sitting at the lights in this car makes you feel really kinda, well, potent. Without
going into the obvious Freudian observations about the shape and position of the bonnet
vis-à-vis the relative position of the driver, it should suffice to say that it gives you a
subtle confidence boost. Should you need it, of course.
The look of this car — without the hood up, which just ruins it completely — is simply
stunning. From nearly every angle it displays a masculine grace that few cars achieve
without looking like a sex aid. The rear-end echoes the shape of the speedboat-inspired
1964 Corvette. As do the large cowled clocks on the dashboard, suggesting the 1960s
infatuation with space exploration, when plastic modular products were the new wonder
— indeed, the interior of the Z8 has that kitchen-of-the-future feel.
Certainly, in terms of the quality of the build and the beautiful way everything is finished
it is a good thing BMW had a go itself at resurrecting this kind of sports car, because they
simply did not have the technology to produce Z8-type roadsters in the 1960s. Although
they had the looks, anyone who has driven one of those period pieces will tell you that
the suspension on them owes more to Zebedee from the Magic Roundabout than to Brian
the snail.
The Z8 is a good example of design recycling and BMW has hit a nerve with regard to
what a section of the market wants from cars today — a desire for the good things of the
past without having to go back to collecting Green Shield stamps and buying premium
bonds.
This is definitely a car for cruising. Motorways become freeways. The street becomes the
strip. Hood down, head up, shades on, wind in the hair, best girl by your side. Quick blast
from the lights and drift along at 30 looking great (the car, too). There is definitely not
the same requirement to race along as there is with Ferraris and Lambos. In traffic, the Z8
throbs happily, sounding like a bullfrog after too much beer and a curry, while out in the
country the low-end torque launches you out of corners as if you’ve just been caber-
tossed by Fat Bastard (from Austin Powers in Goldmember). One blat of the engine will
put you into geo-stationary orbit around Saturn, and no need to rev the nuts off it.
This motor will pull from such slow revolutions that the piston can stop to have a fag at
top-dead-centre before heading off down the barrel again, and you still don’t have to
change down. All right, perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but I do like to lollop along in
fourth gear and just floor it from about 2,000rpm, if only to hear the engine struggle to
overcome the inertia and eventually triumph with a wonderful growling sound from the
exhaust and a gnashing of tyres. Which reminds me, The Sunday Times owes me a rear
set.
But let’s face it, the Z8 is not really an everyday car, and it is too good to have sitting
around all year in the garage. So I reckon it is the perfect car — not really a collectable,
but a damn fine motor — for P1, the company I set up to hire out machines to the
supercar enthusiast.
We at P1 — for pole position — own the cars but after a cursory vetting to make sure
you are not insane let you drive them for a limited number of days per year, all on the
assumption that a) you would never under normal circumstances buy one of these cars in
your life, or b) that you vowed never to be so foolish again after having owned a similar
car for two years and sold it at a whacking loss with only 2,000 miles on the clock
because it looked too good to drive, or c) you have absolutely nowhere to keep the damn
things because you live in London, or d) you fly in and out of the country and do not
want to drive a rent-a-module and be sad.
The nearest comparable car in the P1 stable is the Mercedes-Benz SL 55 AMG, although
the Merc is a far more sophisticated piece of kit — with computerised stability control
and a supercharger, which is why it costs £90,000 — but it doesn’t have the rudeness of
the Z8 and is much more comfortable in the “urban cycle”.
At the other end of the rudeness scale is the AC Cobra. To tell the outside temperature
you just have to stop and wait for the wind chill to wear off, so that car doesn’t get too
much use. By far the most tried-out car in the fleet is the Ferrari 360, with and without
roof.
Members are advised to watch Havoc (episodes one through 20) before taking out our
cars, in the hope that they will appreciate exactly what they are dealing with. So far they
have been remarkably well behaved. It just makes me realise what a hooligan I must be.
A good example of an everyday car is the Porsche 996, which you can use to fetch the
dry cleaning or drive to Paris for lunch. That car is bulletproof and comfortable but
regrettably has four-wheel drive, which makes it far too stable and safe to drive for an old
ex-champ like me — I think Porsche owners tend not to take too many risks (very
sensible). Anyway, we still have them if the members want them, but I haven’t used them
too often myself. Come to think of it, I really should give the Porsches a go next week.
Maybe I’m turning sensible.
The whole point of P1 is that members have the opportunity to drive as many cars as
possible in one year. The Z8 is a great car, but so is the Aston Martin Vanquish, and the
Lamborghini Murciélago, and the Porsche 996 Turbo, and the Noble M12 GTO, and the
Ferrari 550 Maranello, and the Ferrari 360 F1, and the . . . Get it now?
Vital statistics
Model BMW Z8
Engine type V8
Capacity 4941cc
Power 400bhp @ 6600rpm
Torque 369lb ft @ 3800rpm
Transmission Transmission Six-speed manual
Suspension (front) aluminium wishbones, dampers coils, anti-roll bar
Tyres 245/45 ZR18
Fuel 21.1mpg (combined)
CO2 349g/km
Company tax £11,165 for higher rate payer
Acceleration 0 to 62mph: 4.7sec
Top speed 155mph
Insurance Group 20
Price £80,000
Dimensions 4400mm length x 1830mm width x 1370mm height
Verdict A cracker. It doesn't handle brilliantly but that gives it character. In a straight
line its power shines through so you won't be embarrassed by any hot hatches leaving you
for dead at the lights. Shame about the roof though, which spoils its lines completely. Just
pray for sunny days and long straights and you couldn't wish for a better car
The smallest and cutest of the new crop of convertibles won’t be available here
until November — so it is just as well that it has a retractable hard top. The Daihatsu
Copen, which looks like a scaled-down Audi TT, will be priced around £12,500 and is
aimed at the same audience as the Ford Streetka and Smart Roadster.
Daihatsu didn’t mean to miss the summer, it just worked out that way. The Copen (there
is a Japanese logic to the name — coupé/open) was never intended for export but the
British importer was keen and displayed a car at the motor show in Birmingham last
October.
After 10 days of (trouble-free) demonstrations of the origami roof, Daihatsu UK had a list
of 1,500 potential customers. The factory agreed to supply but the business of
modification and certification for European sale takes nearly a year.
The Copen that I drove here was to Japanese specification but cars for the UK market
will not differ in the essentials. This is a “K car”, restricted in dimensions, engine size
and power to qualify for lower taxes in Japan. Daihatsu specialises in these minicars,
some of which are given bigger engines for sale overseas. Not the Copen, which will
come here with the same 660cc turbocharged four-cylinder engine as it has in Japan. It
develops 64bhp and drives the front wheels through a five-speed manual gearbox.
That’s a lot of power for 660cc, though less than the convertible competition. But the
Copen weighs only 1,850lb and it feels bright and lively in and around town; its 0-60mph
time of 9.5sec beats the 94bhp Streetka and the 80bhp Smart Roadster.
It will do just about 100mph. On the motorway the tiny engine is annoyingly buzzy, but
the higher top gear that will be fitted to UK versions should quieten it down.
The surprising thing is that it is comfortable and pleasing to drive. The two-seater cockpit
would be a tight fit for a voluminous person but there is enough legroom and headroom
with the roof in place for the long and tall. Well-shaped sports seats and a little leather-
covered steering wheel make for a good driving position. The electric power steering is
light but accurate and the short gearlever works with a nice snick-snick action.
Like most convertibles, the Copen shudders over broken road surfaces, but its bodyshell
feels stiffer than most and contributes to the car’s tidy handling. It’s no sports car but
neither is it a sloppy hatchback.
The importer has yet to finalise the price of the Copen and what equipment it will
include. The Japanese version I tried had a number of options, including stiffer sports
suspension, a limited-slip differential, heated seats and air-conditioning. Antilock braking
is likely to be standard in the UK along with two airbags, electric windows, central
locking, and a radio/cassette/CD player. The rivals from Ford and Smart are priced
between £12,500 and £13,500 but neither of those has such a fancy roof arrangement.
The least expensive car with a retractable hardtop is the Peugeot 206 Coupé Cabriolet at
£14,700.
Readers complained when I described the Peugeot 206CC as a girlie car but there is no
doubt that the Copen also especially appeals to women. The little Daihatsu is fun to drive
and to be in, easy to park, and a reassuring combination of open-air convertible and
secure metal-roofed coupé.
The Copen’s roof is similar to the Peugeot’s (and the Mercedes SLK’s, which started the
idea). There are two latches at the top of the windscreen but otherwise putting the roof up
or down is a 20-second automatic procedure activated by a button between the seats. The
boot lid opens at its forward edge to accommodate the folded aluminium-and-glass roof.
The snag, inevitably, is that the retracted roof fills the boot, leaving scarcely enough
space for a lady’s handbag.
And because this is such a small car there is precious little room inside to stow anything
— just rather crude nylon nets on the doors and behind the seats. With the roof up, boot
space is quite generous (and there is a system to prevent the hard top being retracted into
a boot full of luggage . . .) It is also as cosy as a coupé — which should please the first
buyers who take delivery in depths of winter.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model Daihatsu Copen

Engine type Four cylinders, turbocharged, 659cc
Power/Torque 64bhp @ 6000 rpm / 81 lb ft @ 3,200rpm
Transmission Five-speed manual
Tyres 165/50 R15
Fuel/CO2 55mpg (combined) / n/a
Top speed 105mph (approx)
Price £12,500 (approx)
Verdict An open-and-shut case. Tiny but snazzy runabout offers fresh air motoring with
thecomfort and security of coupe. Just don't try to carry a lot.
It's three-for-one with the new Daihatsu Materia. Buy this mind-bogglingly cheap
multipurpose family car and get a chunky shrunken Hummer AND a retro 1950s police
wagon into the bargain - and all in the same body.
With the Materia, Daihatsu pushes the parameters on standard family car design farther
than anyone since Caractacus Potts in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. The Japanese team
haven't just thought outside the box here. They've incorpor- ated the box into the design,
along with many other boxes, of altogether different shapes and sizes. As a result, the
Materia is unquestionably set to become the most remarkable-looking car on Britain's
roads in 2008, just as soon as someone plucks up the courage to buy one.
So what are we looking at here? Cute running boards and a gawpy, tot-friendly grin from
the radiator grille, but tinted windows that say “Step away from the car, mofo.” A dash of
Walton's Mountain, but more than a hint of Compton, too. Oh, and all the seats fold flat
to form a double bed, meaning the Materia also moonlights as a budget hotel room.
(Sheets and pillows not supplied.)
Above all, the Materia seems to represent a heroic and utterly unprecedented attempt to
blend rap culture with suburban driving. Tim Westwood, the hip-hop DJ turned TV car
upholsterer, could pimp a million rides and still not arrive at anything so generously - as
the 50-year-old bishop's son from Lowestoft would put it - “blessed with the flava”.
Well, that's true above the window-line, anyway. But go round the back of the Materia,
where the word Materia is emblazoned, in all its glorious meaninglessness, along the
silver door sill in letters several inches high, and the emphasis is suddenly on practical
and acces- sible boot space, and not on bling at all. It's a rare conflict. If Jay-Z ever
decides that his future lies in sandwich delivery, then the Materia will be his kind of car.
Some people will laugh. In fact, I've spent a fortnight now driving two different Materias
over two separate loan periods, and I can report that people DO laugh - the ones who
don't freeze, open-mouthed, on the pavement, that is. At the same time, I can report that
people laughed a lot more loudly at the petrol blue model I originally borrowed than they
did at the black number I had more recently. But that's not to say that they didn't laugh at
the black one, too.
People were lastingly curious about the car, in fact. For days and whole weeks
afterwards, friends were asking me about it. In fact, I all but ended up re-inventing the
old music hall routine. “I say, I say - what was that car I saw you in the other day?” “That
was no car - that was my Daihatsu Materia.” Ker-tish! I thangyew.
Nevertheless, I reserve the most profound respect for Daihatsu and have no hesitation in
urging people to join me in declaring it one of the world's greatest marques. It would be
enough for me that it gave us the Copen, a tiny two-seater sports car with a fully
electronic hard-top roof, costing only slightly more than the average weekly shop at
Morrison's. But one is further awed by the fact that it is not even remotely interested in
turning out tame replicas of other companies' bestsellers. It's devoted, in its own small
way, to pushing the envelope and exploring the new - and at hilariously low prices. And
if that means ending up with something as patently bonkers as the Materia, then so be it.
I love it as much as anything I've driven in the past year, with the sole exception of the
Fiat 500. That's not to say I don't have massive reservations about it. I expect it to age
about as well as a T'Pau single. I'm also convinced that, in response to the question,
“Which are you likely to see in greater number on the nation's roads this summer -
Daihatsu Materias or cars made out of marmalade?”, cars made out of marmalade would,
narrowly, be the more sensible answer.
Nevertheless, I stand by it and rise to applaud the searingly anti-herd principles which
gave birth to it. Because, let's face it, it's like nothing else. Indeed, from certain angles,
it's not even like itself.
Daihatsu Materia 1.5
Top speed: 106mph
Acceleration: 0-62 in 10.8 seconds
Average consumption: 39.2mpg
CO2 emissions: 169g/km (green-ish)
One careful owner: Tim Westwood's dad
In the glovebox: your Rolex
On the hi-fi: 50 Cent (27p)
Bound for: Chester-le-Street
Buy it if: you're big in the hood
Marks out of 10: 9
Price: £10,995
Take a long look at this, the new Dodge Nitro. Whatever you may think of its looks —
and I find it rather fetching — it is a car that people will at least notice. Except they won’t
yet, as the Nitro doesn’t go on sale here until next summer and hasn’t yet made its debut
even in its native America.
How is it, then, that I’ve just driven one through southern California from San Diego to
Palm Springs and didn’t get so much as a second glance? That’s because in America the
bestselling “car” is a vast pick-up truck, so if your set of wheels isn’t the size of a mobile
home, you’re always going to struggle with road presence. SUVs are to the American
car-buying public what the Toyota Corolla is to the rest of the world: so common and
unremarkable that none of us can remember when we last saw one.
But in Britain, or so its importers are hoping, things will be different. Here the Nitro will
sell against cars like the Hyundai Santa Fe and Kia Sorento. In a market where one Ford
hatchback or another has been the staple seller for at least two decades, I suspect the
Nitro is going to be as conspicuous here as it is ignored at home.
Just don’t go thinking that those looks and the promising name mean there’s huge power
at your disposal. The car I drove was fitted with a 3.7 litre V6 engine, and while that
might sound impressive on paper, in reality it doesn’t live up to expectations. Dodge
Nitro? Flaccid more like. It comes with an old and horrid four-speed automatic gearbox
and is the first six-cylinder motor I can recall since the last Ford Cortina’s that sounds as
if it’s in pain when you rev it.
The good news is that the majority of Nitros sold in the UK will be powered by a
common-rail 2.8 litre diesel working in greater harmony with a five-speed auto. The bad
news is that because Americans only understand the word “Diesel” when it is preceded
by the name “Vin” they didn’t have one for me to try.
Of even greater concern to me than the asthmatic engine was the Nitro’s ride and
handling which, frankly, made me feel ill. The suspension was so soft and incapable of
controlling the car’s natural desire to heave, pitch and roll that it provided one more
reason to add to the regrets I had about watching the movie Poseidon on the flight over.
But worry not, says Daimler-Chrysler, the suspension settings had been configured to
reflect the fact that there are no corners in America. Cars destined for Europe will
apparently have settings similar to the “Performance” suspension that I also tried. With
these the car is transformed: the stiffer springs and dampers not only made it handle
properly, the ride was also improved almost beyond recognition.
Not that I enjoyed driving the Nitro even with proper suspension, but then I never
enjoyed driving the Hyundai Santa Fe with which the Nitro will go head to head. I expect
customers will feel the same way about the Nitro in nine months or so. It lacks the
Hyundai’s third row of seats and its second row won’t slide, recline or remove, but there
is excellent headroom and legroom all round, and a vast boot.
The car’s interior reveals smart, simple instruments, sensibly arranged controls and some
sense of design cohesion. I just hope the awful fit and finish of much of the trim reflect
the fact that I was driving pre-production prototypes.
Driving it so long before it goes on sale means there is much about the Nitro we still
don’t know — most notably the extent to which the diesel engine will improve it. Nor do
we know what equipment it will carry or even how much it will cost. All I can tell you is
that Dodge plans to put the car on sale “with a decent level of standard equipment for less
than £20,000”.
At that level, which is less than the cheapest of the forthcoming Land Rover Freelanders,
it should find a space. It certainly offers a lot of metal for your money and an all-
American authenticity with which to combat the imageless Korean brands at which it’s
aimed.
THE OPPOSITION
Model Hyundai Santa Fe £20,995

For Three rows of seats, refined, good performance
Against Ride quality, interior appearance, lack of image
Model Kia Sorento £19,995

For Spacious, recently updated, good value
Against No third row seating, not a coveted marque
Cars come and cars go ... Well, they’re supposed to do that, I know. But what I mean to
say is that they’re sort of like shoes: some shoes become as much part of you as your
foot. In fact, after a while they seem to become more your foot than your actual foot is.
I tend to live with things until they have my imprint upon them, for as long as it takes for
them to bear witness to my having used or abused them. They are my kind of personal
cave painting, proof of my having existed. When it comes to shoes I generally finish
them off for ever. They never walk again.
The Ferrari 550 WSR that we have in the P1 fleet (P1 is the club I set up for paying
members to drive a range of supercars for a limited number of days each year) has that
old-shoe feel to it, which is not surprising since it is one of the most popular cars in our
collection.
Based on the Ferrari 550 Maranello, it has the trimmings of a genuine endurance racer
without complete loss of comfort and practicality. Originally available in 1999 (ours is a
2000), it is not a typical P1 car in that it is not brand spanking new, but we felt the driving
experience was sufficiently unique to warrant its inclusion.
The WSR was built partly because Ferrari’s standard 550 Maranello was starting to look
a little long in the tooth and inviting epithets like “the gentleman’s express”. The slightly
sluggish handling and bulky body weight did little to counter the insult.
But essentially the beautiful 550 still had the ingredients under the skin to make it a
highly desirable proposition. So they decided to give it a shot in the arm by sending a
slightly souped-up one to an oval test track in Columbus, Ohio, and getting some poor
motoring journalists to go round and round in it as fast as they could, for as long as they
could, before they either crashed or broke the car.
By some amazing stroke of luck they didn’t crash, and in fact scored three new world
records for incredibly expensive touring cars.
These were: covering 100 miles at an average speed of 190.2mph, driving for one hour at
an average speed of 184mph and covering 100 kilometres at 188.9mph. Bizarrely, this
seems to prove that mph are faster than kph (another world record for Britain). It also
demonstrates that if there were a banked lane exclusively for Ferraris on the M25 you
could do a lap in less than 40 minutes. Write to your MP.
The limited-edition 550 WSR that Ferrari went on to sell was based on this record-
breaking car. Only 33 WSRs were ever sold worldwide, with 10 coming to Britain. All
were in “Grigio Titanio” (titanium grey) with “Bordeaux” interior.
The precise technical differences over the standard 550 are pretty small. The Fiorano
handling pack gives it stiffer suspension, carbon-fibre bucket seats, racing harnesses
(totally impractical), suede steering wheel and leather-trimmed roll-over bar. The latter
amuses me because when skimming along on the roof after an improperly executed
roundabout manoeuvre I imagine you’ll be fairly indifferent to that leather trim. The
WSR has also been put through a kind of Atkins diet to shed some of its bulk.
All of these little details are a mere aperitif to the main course that is the WSR, yet they
remind us of the heritage of this great marque, one founded on racing and endurance
testing.
As I sit in the 550 WSR I get a slight shiver down my spine because I have raced cars like
this. The environment is an essential part of the driving experience, and this interior
smells, looks, feels like it has been used, worn, and sweated in. Like my shoes.
There is the tang of fear. Perhaps even a suggestion of “I love the smell of Ferrari in the
morning — it reminds me of the smell of victory”. Then again, perhaps not.
But down to the driving. This car will shortly be joined in the fleet by the Ferrari 575
Modificato, but for now we shall have to be content with only a 5.5 litre V12 and 485bhp
delivered in a sumptuously wide, smooth power curve and accompanied by the ultimate
“music of internal combustion”.
I don’t know what it is about V12s, or any multiple of three cylinders for that matter (I’m
not yet aware of a nine-cylinder engine), but this arrangement delivers a peculiar pulse
that is the sonic equivalent of strawberry mousse and cream. The phallic gearlever is
essential: anyone tackling this wild beast has to be very sure of their manhood. It takes
off like a panther on the attack and that gearlever gets a good work-out as we shift
through the sea of torque. You can feel the rear tyres struggle under the stress, but
fortunately the car has its traction control still active. However I know how to turn it off.
I press the switch. It is such a relief to drive a car without brain-numbing understeer and
with a limited-slip differential. Yes, this is the way to travel — slightly at an angle.
Well, I know this is not politically correct, but it’s a bit like eating meat. I mean, if it’s
already dead, you might as well eat it. Similarly, the car does the sideways thing, and I
can handle it, so why not? Travelling in a straight line can be equally rewarding. Wind
down the windows, find a tree-lined country road, put on some music that inspires you
and imagine you’re in Italy. The shark-like body shape glides through the thickest of air
with ease. So beautiful to admire from the exterior . . . let’s get Damien Hirst to put one
in a tank of formaldehyde. Slice her in half and put her in the Saatchi gallery.
To choose a favourite from our entire collection of cars (see www.p1international.com) is

a serious challenge, and for me to select the Ferrari 550 WSR is a little dishonest. I don’t
ever want to have to choose only one, but as Napoleon once said: “It is a luxury to have a
choice, so decide!”.
For many supercar buyers choice can be similarly painful. Unless you are so
sensationally sure of yourself that you know for certain which car is for you, you will
forever be impotently flicking through Flash Car Monthly or buying and selling cars like
the Sultan of Brunei. Some of the very rich end up with a warehouse full of lifeless
exhibits that go nowhere and do nothing but cost a fortune in depreciation. The point is
that even though some people come to realise this trap, they can still never buy what they
really want. The truth is they want it all.
The other problem is that after the agonising choice, and painful parting with large
amounts of money, owners often tend not to drive their precious cars much for fear of
putting too many miles on them.
Unsurprisingly, our members happily guzzle up the miles in our cars and get to sidestep
the choice problem by trying out a wide range. I think that regularly swapping cars gives
the impression that anything is possible, and underlines how we limit ourselves by fixing
our minds on one thing only. Cars are the ultimate fashion accessory, but there is no such
thing as “just the car for you”.
Our cars are virtually never in the garage, and that’s how it should be. I want my cars to
be worn out. Only perhaps not quite as much as my shoes.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model Ferrari 550 WSR

Engine type V12, 5474cc
Torque 420 lb ft @ 5000rpm
Suspension (front and rear) independent, triangular wishbones, gas shock absorbers with
coaxial coil springs, anti-roll bars
Dimensions 4550mm length; 1935mm width; 1277mm height
Tyres (front) 255/40 ZR 18 (rear) 295/35 ZR 18
CO2 n/a
Fuel n/a
Top speed 199mph
Price £157,867 (when launched)
Verdict An absolute favourite
WHEN motoring was in its glamorous infancy, Gran Turismo motoring was all about
taking breakfast in Mayfair before motoring down to Monte Carlo in the GT for supper.
These days, even the upper classes do grand touring by easyJet.
Now, though, two of the most emotional letters in motoring, GT, adorn a rash of
stratospherically expensive new super-coupés: the Bentley Continental GT, the
Mercedes-Benz CL65 and the Aston Martin DB9. With the arrival of the Ferrari 612
Scaglietti, named in honour of Sergio Scaglietti, the Modenese coach-builder, this elite
club has a new member.
The 612 does not seem very pretty. Ferrari says it was inspired by the one-off Ferrari
375MM of the mid-1950s, commissioned by Roberto Rossellini, the actor, as a present
for Ingrid Bergman. There have been cumbersome Ferraris, but this is almost as wide as a
Range Rover and not a lot shorter. The good news is this makes the 612 the roomiest
Ferrari ever. Travelling four-up is no problem.
I tried the back seat and, even at 6ft 3in, fitted comfortably. A family Ferrari? Possibly,
but I did not check to see if a prancing horse baby seat was available (you can get a
Babygro, costing €195 (£130), in the Ferrari shop).
Not that the driver has been forgotten. The 612 is powered by a 5.7-litre, 540bhp V12
engine, making it the second-most powerful Ferrari after the Enzo. It uses an aluminium
spaceframe and body, which helps to keep weight down, but it still scales a hefty
1,840kg. And if its front end looks ungainly it is because 85 per cent of the car’s mass sits
inside its wheelbase. Visually unbalanced, it does not feel it.
Like the Bentley and Mercedes, the Ferrari accelerates with such vigour it is initially
rather worrying. Nothing this size and weight should reach 60mph in 4.1sec then thunder
on into illegality before you can catch breath.
Managing this kind of furious momentum through corners is where the Bentley comes a
little unstuck, but the Ferrari’s braking and body control are remarkable. There is an
artificiality to its steering that disappears as you get used to it and this £170,500 motor
car responds beautifully to confident driving.
Better still, the 612 combines volcanic pace with the sort of manners old-school GT fans
would expect. The automated manual paddle-shift gearbox is as smooth and
instantaneous as any Ferrari road car. Lazy owners can leave it in self-shifting mode,
where it is almost as seamless as a conventional torque-converter system.
Yet, despite all these heady achievements, one of the Ferrari’s key rivals is prettier,
handles even more adroitly, costs £67,000 less and is made in a Midlands factory. The
Aston Martin DB9 is better, even if its rear seats are all but useless.
IN DETAIL
Price: £170,500
Performance: 0-60mph in 4.1sec, 199mph top speed
Engine: 5.7-litre, 540bhp V12, 434lb ft torque @ 5,250rpm
Fuel economy: 13.6mpg (EC combined)
Few things make people like me more grateful to be doing a job like this than the launch
of an all-new Ferrari. Hard-bitten hacks go weak-kneed at the thought of flying to Italy,
to Maranello no less, and sampling the latest product from the greatest supercar
manufacturer there has ever been. There is something magical about this place and its
products.
This most recent visit was to try the Ferrari 612 Scaglietti (named after Sergio Scaglietti,
an 83-year-old Ferrari coachbuilder). The 612 is the replacement for the 456M GT and is
the most powerful road-going Ferrari to go on general sale (the Enzo has more power but
could only be bought by invitation).
Looked at in isolation, the numbers promise an epic driving experience: its 5.7 litre V12
engine develops 540bhp and will power the Scaglietti to 62mph in 4.2sec and on to
199mph. Little more than 10 years ago only one road car, Jaguar’s 542bhp XJ220, had
produced so much power and that was made in handfuls and retailed for £403,000.
Which, in bang-for-buck terms, makes the £170,500 four-seat Scaglietti look pretty
cheap.
But times change. A £110,000 Bentley Continental GT has more power still and will also
nudge 200mph. And if you’re prepared to spend £145,170 you can buy a Mercedes-Benz
CL65 with 612bhp and a top speed that would be at least 208mph were it not for
Mercedes’ sensible decision to limit it to 155mph.
Nor is the Scaglietti one of Ferrari’s prettiest cars. What’s most striking is its size. A new
Range Rover, a vast car in anyone’s book, is less than 5cm longer and just a scant
millimetre wider. The Ferrari looks awkward and, visually at least, a poor successor to
the gorgeous 456.
Inside, things are better. The cabin is beautifully appointed in leather and aluminium and,
among two-plus-twos, unusually spacious too. You could, at a squeeze, get in four six
footers, meaning two averagely proportioned adults with two averagely proportioned sub-
teen children will have no problem. And, among such cars, that makes it unique.
The Scaglietti is also ferociously fast. The engine sounds as good as Aston Martin’s 6
litre V12, and its power makes the Scaglietti one of few cars capable of making a DB9
look pretty anaemic in a straight line. It pulls hard from low revs and harder still up top,
offering a level of performance in a grand touring car that, just a few years ago, was the
exclusive preserve of just a few ultra-exclusive supercars. Better still, its paddle-shift
gearbox is as good in the Scaglietti as it is disappointing in its cousins over at Maserati.
But sheer speed is just one component of driving pleasure and the simple truth is that, for
all its manifest talents, the Scaglietti is a little disappointing to drive, which is just about
the most disappointing thing you can learn about any Ferrari. It feels big when you first
step into it and equally big when you climb out at journey’s end; motoring journalists
love to describe how such cars shrink around their drivers, but this one simply doesn’t.
For this to happen the steering has to be both linear in response and full of feel: the helm
of the Scaglietti is neither. Though its ride quality is in keeping with its touring
aspirations and nobody will quibble with its grip levels or primary body control, these are
basics with such a car. It is the inspirational driving experience that should be the first
duty of a car which bears the prancing horse that is missing.
Nor, in the era of the DB9, can this be put down to its role in Ferrari’s model range as a
grand touring car. The Aston Martin proves many things, but none better than the fact
that a GT can be as thrilling to drive as it is comfortable to travel in.
Of course the Ferrari provides performance in quantities not even the Aston can match
and a usable rear cabin where the DB9 rear seats are almost tokens. But it also charges an
extra £67,500 for the privilege and, having spent time in both cars, I simply cannot see
how it’s worth it, not when you could have the Aston, a BMW M3 and a Lotus Elise long
before the bill reached Scaglietti money. The truth is that even if they cost the same, I’d
still have the prettier, better to drive Aston.
Then again, there were a number of voices on the press launch suggesting the car was
worth it simply “because it’s a Ferrari”. As an attitude, I think that stinks, but they have a
point of sorts. Buy a Ferrari, any Ferrari, and you know it was built in the same factory as
the Daytona, the Dino and the F40. You know also its engine is a Ferrari engine from end
to end, and not some adapted powerplant sharing internal architecture with rather less
exalted motors. Even these days, such things really count.
The proof, I guess, lies in the queue, said to be 18 months long, that has formed to wait
for this car. I just hope that its owners find its badge, searing pace and undoubted
practicality make up for its aesthetically challenged appearance and flawed driving
experience.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model: Ferrari 612 Scaglietti

Engine type: V12, 5748cc
Power/Torque: 540bhp @ 7250rpm / 434 lb ft at 5250rpm
Transmission: Six-speed semi-auto, rear-wheel drive
Fuel/CO2: 13.6mpg (combined), 475g/km
Acceleration: 0-62mph: 4.2sec
Top speed: 199mph
Price: £170,500
Verdict: Bigger and faster does not mean better
THE OPPOSITION
Model: Aston Martin DB9 (£103,000).

For: Utterly gorgeous inside and out and at least as good to drive.
Against: Token rear seats, small boot, rapidly growing waiting list.
Model: Mercedes-Benz CL65 AMG (£145,170).

For: Monstrous performance, easy to live with.
Against: Very expensive for what it is, not sufficiently special to drive
This is without a doubt the most wildly entertaining device ever fitted to a
production car. It’s called “launch control” and it does exactly what the launch control in
Michael Schumacher’s Formula One Ferrari does when the starting lights go out on race
day.
It works like this: at a standstill you push a button on the console of the Ferrari Challenge
Stradale, then you mash the throttle and watch the rev counter swing past 8000rpm. Take
your foot off the brake and the car’s computer engages the clutch as fast as it can without
breaking anything. The result is an unholy yowl from the engine and the screech of
spinning tyres accompanied by clouds of smoke as the rubber vaporises.
Try this dramatic getaway around any of the small villages outside Ferrari’s home town
of Maranello and the proud locals will cheer, although I can’t guarantee the same result in
Milton Keynes.
Launch control also provides the real clue as to what this new Ferrari is all about. The
Challenge Stradale aims to give drivers a racing car experience in a road-legal package. It
is based on the 360 Modena but incorporates a raft of technology from the competition-
only derivative of the 360.
The Challenge Stradale costs £133,025, some £23,250 more than a regular Modena
equipped with its own version of the F1 gearbox. But it is 243lb lighter, develops an
amazing 50% more aerodynamic downforce to keep it stuck to the road and deploys an
explosive V8 with 25bhp more than standard. In addition, it uses F1-derived carbon-
ceramic brakes that can be absolutely hammered without fading.
Ferrari’s engineers reduced the car’s weight by using super-light titanium on some parts
of the suspension, carbon fibre on things such as door panels and interior trim, and a
specially constructed aluminium floorpan that’s half as heavy as the standard item. The
results are spectacular. Here is a car that will leap from 0 to 62mph in 4.1sec and won’t
stop accelerating until 186mph.
The gearbox is an F1-style electrohydraulic set-up that you operate with paddles behind
the steering wheel, flipping the right one to change up and the left to shift down. (There is
no fully automatic mode, unlike in the less focused 360 Modena F1.) The Stradale can
make you look and sound like a hero. As I headed south out of Maranello over fast,
sweeping roads it consummately dispatched long lines of slower traffic, leaving a
glorious V8 scream in its wake. A Hollywood producer looking for a soundtrack for his
racer-guy movie would go nuts for it, a baritone bark that hardens at about 4000rpm into
a soul-stirring wail.
Then, when you shift down, the engine management computer delivers a glorious,
perfectly matched blip of the throttle before the gear is engaged. Phone your mates and
let them hear the noise as you zap up and down the gearbox and they’ll think you’re
Schuey himself. No need to mention that the car’s F1 shift and its Nasa-grade brain are
doing all of the hard work.
The Challenge Stradale’s handling is equally user-friendly. It rides on specially made,

soft-compound Pirelli P-Zero tyres that provide not only sensational grip but a good ride,
too, despite the lowered and stiffened suspension that enables the car to change direction
instantaneously.
And so to Ferrari’s test track at Fiorano, where Schumacher shakes down his Sunday car.
A couple of laps with Ferrari test driver Dario Benuzzi demonstrate the Stradale’s
exceptional ability. He is playing the shift paddles with great flourishes, like a pianist, as
he grabs another gear. The sensations are pure racer, the acceleration and braking brutal,
way beyond anything a regular road car could handle.
The Challenge Stradale is a breathtaking experience, and I can’t imagine being able to
stretch to £110,000 and not wanting to go the extra £23,000 for what you get over and
above the 360 — a track-day car that you can drive every day.
Ferrari reckons it will sell about 60 Challenge Stradales a year to confirmed enthusiasts
of the marque. They’ll be the sort of people who will know about options such as the
“rosso scuderia” paint scheme, which is about as extreme as it gets among Ferrari
anoraks.
Why? Well, television cameras slightly distort the true Ferrari red, which would appear
too dark left to its own devices, so the F1 cars are painted a more neon-tinted hue that
looks right when broadcast. And, for a price, Ferrari will paint your road-going Challenge
Stradale that same brighter red.
An amusing detail, no question, but not nearly as hysterical as launch control.
Vital statistics
Model Ferrari Challenge Stradale

Transmission Six-speed semi-automatic
Suspension (front and rear) double wishbones, coil springs, anti-roll bar
Tyres (front) 225/35 ZR19; (rear) 285/35 ZR19
Price £133,025
Verdict A sensationally good drive that will also flatter the driver by doing all the hard
work. The noise of the engine is just about worth the extra cash on its own
I’m not expecting sympathy, but testing a new Ferrari is just about the hardest thing you
can do in this job. They fly you to Italy, fill you with pasta, overwhelm you with
enthusiasm and then give you a brief session in the car on the road and a yet shorter one
on the track.
It is startlingly easy to be overwhelmed by the experience, bamboozled by the volume of

raw information to be digested and therefore become inclined to give the car a more
comfortable ride than it otherwise might deserve.
And why would it matter? The truth is, Ferrari could produce a car with the dynamics of
a wheelie bin, and so long as it bore the badge and looked the part, it would sell. I believe
many Ferrari owners neither know nor care whether their cars are good or not: what they
want most is to be seen driving a Ferrari.
Happily this attitude has yet to surface in Ferrari’s famed Maranello headquarters.
Contrary to the barroom banter, not all Ferraris are great cars and its most recent, the 612
Scaglietti, is unattractive, overpriced and a little disappointing. The new F430 marks a
reassuring return to form, however.
Its job is to replace the 360 Modena, a generally overrated car that nevertheless became
Ferrari’s strongest seller. Though the F430 uses the 360 as its basis and retains the old
car’s wheelbase, steering and suspension, it is 70% new. And being such a step forward it
deserves to be thought of as a new rather than evolved machine.
At its heart lies a 4.3 litre V8 motor, a fresh addition to Ferrari but already found in
various Maseratis. Once Ferrari has finished tinkering with it, however, just its block and
cylinder heads remain unchanged. Every moving part is new, which explains how its
power has been raised from Maserati’s 400bhp to Ferrari’s 483bhp.
To put this output into context, in 1987 when Ferrari launched the legendary F40 it was
the world’s fastest and most powerful car. Those lucky enough to be invited to own one
spoke of performance almost beyond imagining. It had 478bhp. Moreover, the F430 is
now Ferrari’s cheapest model.
But the greater significance of the F430 is that it is the first Ferrari to make credible the
link between its road and racing cars. Jean Todt, the long-time boss of the Ferrari
Formula One team is now also managing director of Ferrari’s road car division, and it
does not take much more than a suggestion that the link between road and track is just
carefully crafted marketing patter to set him off.
“Lessons we have learnt in Formula One have helped develop our F1-shift gearbox,
carbon-ceramic brakes, the electronic differential, the aerodynamics under the car, the
switch on the steering wheel to change settings of the car . . .” Todt could probably have
continued but felt he had made his point.
So what kind of car does this make the F430? Not a racing car, for sure. Its ride is stiff
and its engine suitably loud, but for all its searing performance — this is a vehicle that
hits 60mph in under 4sec — it’s not intimidating.
I always suspected psychopathic tendencies lay behind the 360’s smiling face, yet
minutes into my drive in the F430 I was confident to turn the steering wheel switch to its
“race” setting, all but disabling its stability systems, and give it the boot.
It’s not perfect — the steering is a shade too light, the nose a smidge too eager to run
wide of a corner and the tail rather too keen to play fast and loose on the race track — but
I’m not sure I want a Ferrari to be easy. I want a challenge, but one where getting it
wrong means a red face, not a new car. This is exactly what the F430 provides.
Knowing the F430 gets such fundamentals right makes forgiving its many other faults,
such as its offset driving position, atypically messy cabin and awkward rear styling
somewhat easier.
The only thing that still gnaws away at me is the nagging suspicion that I’d be just as
quick and have at least as much fun in a new Porsche Carrera S, which is near enough
£50,000 less than the F430 will cost when it arrives next spring.
What matters more is that I’d go anywhere in a F430 rather than its deadliest rival,
Lamborghini’s impressive but antiseptic Gallardo. And rest assured, for sheer sense of
occasion the Ferrari blows Porsche and Lamborghini clean off the field.
I’d hoped the F430 would join the Dino 246GT, the 365GTB/4 Daytona and F40 among
the greatest of all Ferraris, but it’s not quite there. I’d rate it towards the top of the second
division, alongside the 308GTB, the F50 and F355, an exceptional performance by any
standards other than the marque’s own.
And of course its success is guaranteed. Though these words are among the very first to
be written by a journalist who has driven the car, the waiting list is already over a year
and I’d say it deserves to be. Anyone coming out of a 360 Modena into an F430 is not
just buying its replacement, they’re buying a car transformed beyond comparison for the
better. I just hope they notice.
I always laughed at people who drove convertible Ferraris. They might as well walk
down the street wearing nothing but a sign saying “fat, middle-aged and bald” to
advertise their mid-life predicament.
And I kept on laughing until a couple of days ago when I caught sight of an overweight
man nobody would call young any more, not least because of his rapidly receding
hairline.
He was sitting in the driver’s seat of a new Ferrari F430 Spider, adjusting the mirror
when his depressingly familiar features hove into view. So now that I fitted the profile of
the convertible Ferrari driver in all regards save bank balance, I laughed no longer.
After a day at the wheel the list of things I really didn’t like about the car could have been
counted using one thumb. Okay, I felt like an idiot driving it, particularly with another
similarly proportioned colleague at my side, but that was hardly the car’s fault. Had I
been 10 years younger, many pounds lighter, somewhat more dashing in appearance and
accompanied by someone called Natalya, I expect I’d have been just fine with it.
The Spider is the convertible version of Ferrari’s wondrous new F430 supercar, and
anyone hoping the Maranello factory would trip up in the conversion process will be
disappointed.
It contains the same 483bhp, 4.3 litre V8 engine that will take it from rest to 62mph in
4.1sec, a scant tenth of a second slower than the coupé thanks to the extra weight all
convertibles carry compared with their hardtop sisters. And it won’t quit until it’s doing
193mph, at which speed you’re unlikely to be too distressed by the knowledge that the
coupé will go a whole 3mph faster.
It even looks pretty good relative to the aluminium-roofed F430, which is never a given
in the convertible business. Its styling is a little awkward with the roof up, but once
you’ve hit the hood button (while doing less than 3mph), and waited 20 seconds for its
seven electric motors to do their stuff, you’ll be guaranteed the undivided attention of
anyone you’re likely to bump into on the Riviera or the King’s Road.
But those who detail the F430 Spider to showing-off duties only will be missing the vast
bulk of its appeal. Sure, it’s a good enough looking car but it’s not a classic — not like
the convertible Daytona or some cloth-capped Ferraris produced for the American market
in the 1960s. Its real, stand-out talent is the way it takes the extraordinary driving
experience offered by the F430 coupé and puts it into the hands of the Spider driver in
almost undiminished form.
Convertibles are always compromises but I cannot think of another that better covers the
engineering limitations inherent in its design.
Convertibles are structurally much weaker than coupés and should shake noticeably on
broken surfaces, but unless you feel inclined to take your Spider off-roading, it’s not
something you’re going to notice. Most convertibles, even those as illustrious as the new
Porsche 911 Cabriolet, also feel less precise and give less confidence to the enthusiastic
driver, but not this one.
True, the steering is a touch too light and could be a shade more communicative, but the
same can be said of the coupé. Side by side down the same road, I don’t doubt I’d be able
to spot where its performance, handling and ride have become degraded but, really, the
differences are too small to detect.
In fact the only aspect of the car I truly did not like was its noise. This may seem a
staggering thing to say about any Ferrari, not to mention a touch inconsistent, given that
the F430 howls with the best of them, but the removal of the roof has changed its
acoustics and Ferrari has fiddled with the Spider’s exhaust bypass valve so it makes more
noise at lower revs.
The result is that if you drive it as fast as you can it still sounds glorious, but if you’re just
pottering through town or trying to behave yourself on the motorway, it’s annoyingly,
intrusively loud.
Nor is it even a chandelier-shattering pedigree Italian scream. It sounds more like an

amplified bout of flatulence until you can break free from the lower reaches of the rev
range and work the engine in the 4000-8500rpm bracket, where it’s clearly happiest.
Other complaints, such as the poorly detailed cabin, offset driving position and awkward
rear styling have been carried over from the coupé and are not unique to the Spider.
But in the main this is a gorgeous car. Its secret is to offer the best of both worlds to two
distinct types of Ferrari buyer: those who wish to be seen and those who simply want to
drive.
How good is it? Sales start in June for a likely £127,000 (£133,000 with the F1 paddle
gearshift). And when I see one on the road for the first time I won’t even snigger. Cars
this good are no laughing matter.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model Ferrari F430 Spider

Transmission Six-speed manual or semi-automatic
Price £127,000 approx
Verdict Good to look at, better to drive
Rating 4/5
THE OPPOSITION
Model Mercedes-Benz SL55 AMG, £95,700

For Sledgehammer performance, folding steel roof, ease of use
Against A little heavy and cumbersome, lacks Ferrari exclusivity
Model Porsche 911 Carrera Cabriolet, £70,090

For Three-quarters of the Ferrari's fun for half the price
Against Awkward looks, handling less resolved than 911 coupé's
Life could be worse. Dawn has the water sparkling among the yachts in Monaco, and
dusk promises some of the world’s best pasta in a family-run restaurant near the Ferrari
factory in Italy. And to get from one to the other we have a new plaything, the 199mph
Superamerica.
The world’s most desirable convertible - and one of the fastest - is named after a series of
limited-edition Ferraris built between 1956 and 1961 (“America” denotes a special body,
“super” means more power under the bonnet). Then, limited meant 10. In today’s world it
means 559, but otherwise this car does for us what its forebears did for society’s A-list of
the 1950s.
So it has a special body, a clever roof and an explosive engine. Does this justify the
highest price tag in Ferrari’s range? We shall see.
What a long way Ferrari has come since 1996, the last time it provided a 200mph
convertible for my amusement. That was the F50, a 520bhp machine with a Formula
One-derived engine that you can now buy used for £200,000 or so. Which is the cost of a
Superamerica.
In 1996 you needed a mechanic to remove the roof. Today you can open the lid in seven
seconds. There is more to the roof than that, but first we need to know if this is a true
Ferrari. Let’s do the Monte Carlo test. There are 550 Ferraris in Monaco, where the sound
of an Italian V8 is as normal as the wail of a Porsche in Chelsea. V12s are less common,
but the test of any car is the tourists outside the casino.
A real Ferrari needs aural and visual drama and yet to be in good taste. Today a bright red
Fiat 500 is enjoying attention. After I arrive, people break away to pose for photographs
by the Superamerica.
They are right: the new model might be derived from the 575M, a car that is beautiful
only in certain combinations of colour and light, but it is a handsome machine. It also has
a breakthrough so simple you wonder why nobody thought of it before.
I’ll explain: when you see a convertible with the roof up on a perfect day, usually it is
because the baby’s buggy is in the boot. There is nowhere for the roof to go. Well, the
Superamerica roof does not fold into the boot, nor does it collapse like the fabric pram
roofs of old. It rotates.
When opened, the roof flips backwards until it rests flat above the boot lid. The now
inverted rear window become a wind deflector. Which makes this one practical supercar.
Since the roof no longer needs to fold it can be made of glass; and this glass can be tinted
at will. A control in the cabin selects one of five degrees of light or privacy. With the
engine off the glass goes dark to protect the interior from the sun.
The roof-and-engine combo that sets the Superamerica apart from the “standard” 575M
will set you back £35,600. That’s on top of the £163,200 for the 575M with the F1 box.
Ensure you tick the Handling GTC option, too (better suspension and brakes, £14,455)
and a pair of Ferrari shields on the front wings (£1,050). That makes £214,305.
The money buys a car within fractions of the performance of the F50, one of the most
outrageous Ferraris of all time. The 532bhp Superamerica is not a replacement for the
F50 — that was the Enzo — but the fact that they can be compared, even though this is a
touring car, shows how quick it is. You can get it in right-hand drive, too. And with the
classic open-gate manual gearbox.
The paddle-shift F1 gearbox is now so smooth that I set off in Sport mode and didn’t
notice. Is it a proper Ferrari? It’s a modern automated traction-controlled machine. And
yet it drives best from the scruff of the neck. On the twisting motorway into Italy it
responds best to slow-in, fast-out, so that you accelerate through the turns. Slow is
relative, of course — it’s in three figures — and traffic means you get little chance for
fast-out. So you travel with the Audis and Boxsters but work harder, because cars that
corner best under an assertive right foot are not so happy on a steady throttle.
That’s a good sign. Later, on a back road near the Ferrari factory, the promise is fulfilled,
given its head this is a satisfying supercar. It feels more focused with the roof up and
more dramatic with it down, because of the louder engine. Up or down, though, it still has
aural magnificence. It is a genuine two-in-one car and a great Ferrari. The only possible
criticism is that the door does not shut with an expensive-sounding thunk.
It has few rivals. If you were considering one of these with the GTC pack (and you’d be
mad to accept the standard suspension), you wouldn’t contemplate an Aston Martin DB9
Volante. The Aston is a cruiser — too soft. The Mercedes SL 65 AMG — too ordinary.
The real rivals are the Lamborghini Murciélago Roadster and the Ferrari F430 Spider. If
you want fast and ostentatious, buy one of those; the Superamerica is the subtle choice.
Which makes what comes next the more regrettable. It’s sold out. Used F50, then.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model Ferrari Superamerica

Engine type 5.75 litres, V12
Transmission Six-speed manual or automatic F1 paddle shift
Fuel/CO2 13mpg (combined) / 499g/km
Price £198,800
Verdict Stylishly understated and very fast
Rating 5/5
THE OPPOSITION
Model Lamborghini Murciélago Roadster £189,950

For Outrageous performance, near-Audi build quality
Against Not subtle. You’ll look like Peter Stringfellow
Model Ferrari F50, about £200,000 (used)

For Genuine race performance. Rare
Against You’ll need an umbrella (the roof will be at home)
My car is about to die. It's an Audi A4, dating back to just after the dawn of time. It
seemed pretty cool and Germanic to me at the time, but now it's about as fashionable as
Michael Douglas.
And, as befits a car of its age and experience, it's in a poor state. The offside front wing is
deeply scored as the result of a traumatic collision with the side of a skip. (The skip
pulled out, I continue to maintain.) Pigeon droppings, left too long to their own devices,
have bitten into the paint finish on the bonnet. (What does today's pigeon eat? An
exclusive diet of ground glass and Brillo pad, it would appear, washed down with a
carafe of white spirit.)
And it's even worse inside, where regular valeting, as recommended in the manual,
ceased shortly after grunge music. Since then, the car has hosted the formative journeys
of a number of children, and no car ever looks entirely well after that. In fact, I
sometimes look at the state of the interior and wonder whether those children weren't
actually delivered in there.
The cloth now clinging angrily to the seats seems to have been stitched together using an
exclusive selection of tramps' trousers. The carpet has absorbed anything up to a quart of
boiled milk from slopped coffees. There are wrappers on the floor from chocolate bars
that they don't even make any more. There is a mound of rubbish in the back the size of a
landfill project and the entire car would almost certainly be attracting attention from
scavenging seagulls if the windows still opened. But they don't.
Altogether, the car is so trounced that when I tried to give it away to a friend the other
day, for absolutely nothing and with a free tank of petrol thrown in, the friend declined.
He didn't even want the petrol - not given where it had been.
It's probably got to go. To this end, I've been on the secondhand car-buying websites:
www.webuyanyoldpieceofjunk.com, www.we'lltakeyourcrappyAudi.co.uk, and so on.
Handed a brief resumé for this particular car, though, nearly all of them abruptly become
www.onsecondthoughtswewon't.com.
One site did come through with a tear-inducingly token cash offer. But I know what will
happen. I'll turn up at the depot at the advised time and they'll take one crisp look and
revise their offer downwards. “There are anything up to 17,000 white van-marks here that
were not detailed on your original report. Plus there's a really nasty smell of boiled milk.
Nought pence is as high as we are going.”
What to replace it with, though? Something smaller and more economical, perhaps, in
keeping with the times. Something nippy and clean and fresh-scented. Something, above
all, new and therefore as yet gratifyingly unspoilt by flying vermin. Or small children, for
that matter. Something that has, up to now, never even seen a skip, let alone tried to drive
underneath one.
The new Fiat 500, for instance. That'll do. There's cute and there's retro. And then there's
this brilliantly designed four-seater bubble car, which is currently stuffing the opposition
in any retro contest you care to organise, while simultaneously out-cuteing everything on
the road by a factor of around 12. It's Britain's most covetable car. Across the nation,
people even now are driving perfectly acceptable cars into skips in order to have a reason
to replace them.
With its frisky chrome whiskers and general sense of good cheer, it is recognisably linked
to the classic Italian buzz-about of the Fifties and Sixties, but differs in a) being pretty
comfortable, considering, and b) not sounding like an enraged hornet whenever you
accelerate. As a feat of timely updating, it sits right up there with BMW's Mini, which is
now issued as standard with every job as an estate agent. Eventually the 500 may even
become as ubiquitous, which could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on how
much you feel your individuality is bound up with your choice of car. Perhaps
anticipating problems in this area, Fiat has at least provided a huge range of means to
personalise your 500 - stickers, badges, bits of chrome, carpet mats.
Overall, though, it's bright, neat and uncomplicated. What's more, buy one, and you can
say that you own the 2008 version of the car that was the original choice for the chase
sequence in The Italian Job. (Little-known fact: the Mini Cooper squeezed it out.) And it
won't smell of old milk. Not initially, anyway. So, where do I sign?
Top speed: 99mph
Acceleration: 0-62 in 12.9 seconds
Average consumption: 55.4mpg
CO2 emissions: 119g/km

Eco rating: 9/10
One careful owner: Fiona Phillips
On the stereo: Estelle
In the glovebox: Tic Tacs
Bound for: Milan
Buy it because: it's telling you to
Marks out of 10: 9
Price: from £8,100
Fiat - small cars, big business. Fiat is on a roll in the UK. Even its new small car, the
Punto, has had “Grande” added to its name to reflect not just a few extra inches in length,
but ambitions for its sales. Anyone watching television recently will also have noticed
Fiat throwing cash at adverts for the car — all part of a huge, £18 million marketing
spend.
The plan, Fiat says, is to boost Punto sales in the United Kingdom from 17,000 in 2005 to
35,000 a year. The first Punto went on sale 13 years ago. Since then, more than 12
million have been sold across Europe, more than half a million of those in the UK.
And with weeny city cars now one of the most bitterly fought sectors, as motorists seek
cars that are easy to park, cheap to run and sip at fuel, the Punto is up against it. Rivals
such as the Renault Clio, Suzuki Swift, Ford Fiesta, Toyota Yaris and Vauxhall Corsa are
among those consumers can now choose from. Fiat says: “Grande Punto is one of the
most important vehicles in Fiat’s 107-year history because it is the latest in a long line of
advanced, stylish small cars that have created and built Fiat’s legendary heritage.”
No pressure, then, for a small car with some big expectations on its shoulders. Can it
deliver?What instantly gives the Grande Punto the edge is its looks. Fiat drafted in
Giorgetto Giugiaro, the Maserati designer, to style it and the result is a small car with big-
car looks: bold and dramatic.
Fiat has also cheated slightly to get another edge. Simply, it has stretched the car so that it
is about six inches longer than the Punto it replaces, improving space inside.
The three and five-door hatchback Grande Punto range is priced from £7,594 to £12,295,
with engines including 1.2 and 1.4-litre petrol, and 1.3 and 1.9litre diesels. The petrol
cars come with a five-speed manual gearbox and the diesels get six gears.
All cars are well equipped, with standard kit including ABS anti-lock braking, front
airbags, electric front windows, CD player, power steering and remote central locking.
The 1.4 petrol Dynamic (middle of the range — above the Active and Active Sport but
less well equipped than Eleganza or Sporting models) is an eight-valve engine good for
77bhp, taking a leisurely 13 seconds to go from a standing start to 62mph and on to a top
speed of just over 100mph.
Inside you get a hi-tech look, black and grey seat material, excellent headroom and,
useful for a driver with long legs and arms, a steering wheel that adjusts up, down, in and
out. Rear legroom is best suited for small children and the rear seatbacks only reach
halfway up a tall person’s shoulder blades.
Fiat has clearly thought about some aspects of the car, like the A pillar with a triangular
glazed area cut into it to aid forward vision. Yet the thick B pillar hinders drivers trying
to check the blind spot over their shoulder to the right.
The 1.3 diesel has a six-speed gearbox, which makes sense, especially when it comes to
motorway cruising. For all it is small, the Grande Punto does well on longer journeys,
surprisingly quiet and relaxed. On poor quality, rutted roads, the Punto struggles to cope
and the ride gets a bit more lively.
In town, as you would expect from a car with its genes firmly fixed amid the Rome traffic
mayhem, it is nippy.
Power steering makes traffic-queue dodging easy and it is a delight to park, though the
view to the rear, with thick pillars housing the rear light clusters, could be better. Such
quibbles are minor, though, for a car range that for the most part is firmly priced below
£10,000, with models that look good and are surprisingly roomy for what is, after all, still
a supermini.
You get into the Edge, turn the ignition key and wait for the fuel cell to burst into life.
Under the floor is a reservoir of high-pressure hydrogen — the same stuff that powers the
sun. It’s like being at the helm of a starship. Unfortunately, before you can say “Take us
out of orbit, Mr Sulu,” you’re met by . . . silence.
Welcome to the future. It’s mute. Gone is the roar of the V8, the screech of tyres, the
howl of the transmission. All you’ll hear in the cabin of this hydrogen-powered prototype
is an electric fan cooling the hidden apparatus that turns hydrogen into electricity and
powers four wheel-mounted electric motors (yes, it’s a 4x4).
The vibration from thousands of muffled explosions inside a cylinder block, the plume of
noxious exhaust gases . . . these are things of the past. The only emission the Edge
produces is water so pure you can sip it from the tailpipes. If you became depressed about
the demise of the internal combustion engine and the fantastic machines it spawned, it
would be no good trying to end it all by shutting yourself in the garage and running this
car’s power unit. You’d die of boredom before you’d suffocate.
This is what car makers have been telling us about hydrogen power for years, so what is
different about the Edge? Well, if you believe the Ford sales speak, this car represents a
huge technological leap forward in the development of the hydrogen fuel cell as a viable
alternative to the combustion engine. That’s because the Edge is the first alternative-fuel
car to have a travelling range approaching that of a conventional car.
Existing prototypes can typically travel only about 100 miles between refills, but Ford’s
engineers have improved the efficiency of the Edge’s fuel cell (the device that turns
hydrogen into electricity to power the car’s motors). They’ve also added laptop-style
lithium-ion batteries so the car can be recharged overnight, if desired, thereby extending
its range to 225 miles. This, says Ford, makes it a truly viable green machine.
But what is it like to drive? All the pulling power from the Edge’s electric motors is
available immediately. Unlike a conventional engine, they don’t need revving. That
should provide rubber- burning acceleration, but it doesn’t because the combined 250bhp
is only gradually released to prevent wheelspin. Press the accelerator and the Edge glides
gently up to a top speed of 88mph.
It’s a car designed in a laboratory instead of a workshop. I test-drove it — with deep

suspicion — at Ford’s chrome and glass research centre in Germany. Usually the trouble
with eco-friendly cars is that they are neither green nor friendly. They run on alternative
fuel that has been derived from fossil fuels, they cost the earth without actually saving it
and they’re no fun to drive.
In that sense, the Edge is no exception. If it went on sale today it would cost at least ¤1m
— about £812,000. It uses hydrogen that has been made using natural gas or power-
station electricity, so ultimately it’s no cleaner than a conventional vehicle. And because
of its weight — at 2.5 tonnes it’s only slightly lighter than a Rolls-Royce Phantom — it
handles as though it’s full of water — which, in a molecular sense, it is.
It uses complex technology and exotic materials that will never be cheap, though mass
production will eventually bring the cost down. Worse, there’s nothing even faintly edgy
about its performance — it’s the most misleadingly named car since the Skoda Rapide.
So what is the point of the Edge, apart from being a public relations tool to help make
Ford look caring? Ford’s argument is that in 10 years’ time there will be a network of
plants producing hydrogen from cheap, nuclear electricity. Then we’ll all be able to run
cars such as the Edge without generating any carbon monoxide or CO2. Our carbon
footprints will shrink to the size of inline skates.
Why not just use cheap electricity to charge up battery-powered cars? The answer is
simple: you can’t just stop and fill them up like you can when your car runs on
conventional fuel or gas.
So it’s worth taking notice of this prototype, because the Edge is what you’ll one day be
driving, even if it takes more than 10 years to get here. Yes, it’s unrefined, a bit like the
first mobile phones. And the car of the future won’t look exactly like this one. Ford
simply built its hydrogen technology into the body of an existing model, a family SUV
that sells in the States for £15,000. What really matters is under the skin.
Ford says it can improve performance still further, thanks to technological spin-offs from
a hydrogen racing car — the Ford Fusion Hydrogen 999 — which last year claimed the
world land-speed record (207.3mph official, or 210mph unofficial) for a production-
based fuel-cell-powered car.
The company is in the process of increasing the amount of hydrogen carried, by boosting
the storage pressure, and that will give the Edge a range of more than 300 miles. And, if
you believe Germany’s TUV (Technischer Uberwachungsverein — the official vehicle-
testing agency), hydrogen is a safer vehicle fuel than petrol because it rapidly dissipates if
it leaks in an accident.
That’s all very well, but can you find hydrogen filling stations at 300-mile intervals? No.
There are only a handful on the Continent and none in Britain. You will only find stations
that close together along California’s hydrogen highway, where Arnold Schwarzenegger,
the state governor, has forced fuel companies and car makers to co-operate on hydrogen.
Will anything similar happen beyond the eco-obsessed US west coast? Is

Schwarzenegger likely to take over the world and build a global hydrogen highway along
which we’ll all glide in silent machines from the future? Not unless the plot of
Terminator 4 comes true. So we can hang on to our V8s for another decade — at least.
Ford Edge
POWER UNIT Ballard Halo fuel cell stack, dual e-Drive electric motors
POWER 250bhp
TORQUE 340 lb ft
FUEL 4.5kg hydrogen @ 350 bar
RANGE 225 miles (300 miles with 700bar storage)
TOP SPEED 88mph
PRICE €1m – about £812,000
AVAILABLE 2015 for fleet use

Unlike in its native America, where the Ford Motor Company is in desperate straits,
Ford’s European business is oozing such confidence that it’s in real danger of looking
cool.
Granted, its US parent is desperately flogging off the family silver (Aston Martin has
gone, and it hopes Land Rover and Jaguar will soon follow) to raise much needed cash,
but sales of Ford cars in Europe are buoyant, and nowhere more so than in Britain, where
it’s even turning away business. This year Ford has elected not to pump 15,000 Mondeos
into UK car rental fleets because of the harm this does to the long-term residual values of
cars people buy with their own money.
The Focus is the staple that has kept Ford the firm favourite among British car buyers.
One in 20 new cars sold in the UK is a Focus, and for every full year it has been on sale
since its 1998 launch it has been the land’s bestselling car.
In the days before the Focus and Mondeo, most Fords were rubbish and people bought
them because there was a dealer at the end of their street, not because they thought the
Escort and Sierra were any good, which they weren’t. They were cheap to buy and run,
didn’t break down too often, and that was good enough.
But these days excellence is expected, and with this, the third generation of Focus,
excellence is precisely what Ford has delivered.
All car makers know the strengths and weaknesses of their products, but come renewal
time, many choose to meddle with already perfectly good areas of design, just because
they can. And their “improvements” sometimes involve worsening things – witness the
new Chrysler Grand Voyager I wrote about last week, which looks older than the model
it replaces.
So I’m glad to relate that the Focus chassis, a class leader since day one, has been left
entirely alone. The Focus still handles with a fluency unmatched by any similar car, rides
superbly and offers a degree of driver interaction that many sports cars costing twice as
much can’t even provide. And as the engines are state of the art, apart from some
tinkering to reduce emissions, they’ve been left alone too.
What did need addressing was the Focus’s boring appearance, which is why generation
three looks like an entirely new car. Ford knew the outgoing Focus looked dowdy next to
younger, funkier rivals such as the Honda Civic, so it has changed every exterior panel
bar the roof. The result is visually purposeful, distinctive and attractive.
Inside, Ford rightly identified that quality was becoming an issue in an era of increasing
customer expectation, so smart new instruments, dashboard materials, seats and
upholstery have been fitted, raising the perceived quality to a level rivalling Peugeot and
Renault, and shaded only by the classy VW Golf. Greater attention has also been paid to
keeping noise levels down.
The result is a car that’s very hard to criticise. You might take issue with some of the
carried-over interior fittings, you might find the clutch action too sharp, and I didn’t
much care for the style of the alloy wheels of the 2 litre diesel I tested. But, as you can
probably tell, I’m struggling to be negative.
Not once in a long afternoon spent with the car did it annoy me, and that is a rare
achievement for any car, at any price. I drove it through towns, along motorways, up and
down a mountain pass, and it felt at home in each of these environments.
Despite strengthened class competition of late, the greatest appeal of the Focus – the fact
that it’s a driver’s car – still keeps it well distanced from its rivals. Yet, for all its abilities,
many will still choose a Golf, not just for the slower depreciation, but because it’s a
Volkswagen and not a Ford. To many people, these things count.
Personally I don’t care what a car says about me; I just care for the car. And that is why I
have no doubt that the Focus is still what it has been for so long – the best small family
car you can buy.
Vital statistics
Model Ford Focus 2.0 TDCi Titanium
Engine type 1997cc, four cylinders, turbodiesel
Fuel/CO2 51.3mpg (combined cycle) / 144g/km
Performance 0-62mph: 9.3sec (estimated) / Top speed: 126mph
Price £18,295
Verdict The very best car in the family hatchback business
Rating 5
Date of release January 2008
The opposition
Model Hyundai i30 2.0 CRDi Premium £16,595 For Exceptional value, good to drive,
great warranty Against Rather dull exterior, unattractive cabin
Model VW Golf GT Sport 2.0 TDI 5dr £18,887 For Good image, quality, comfort and
residual values Against The Focus both drives and looks better
For the first time in a decade I am starting to worry about Ford’s new cars. Since it
launched the Mondeo in 1993 its products have been almost unable to do any wrong.
That car was the best in its class, as was the Focus that followed it, the Fiesta, the Galaxy,
the Puma and two more generations of Mondeo besides.
But last year I drove the new Fiesta and thought it more competent but a lot less
charming than its predecessor. Then I drove the largely pointless Fusion. I enjoyed both
the Street and Sport versions of the Ka, but the Ka is the oldest model on Ford’s books, a
car from the days when no Ford could be signed off for sale unless its handling made the
entire board of directors smile.
This new C-Max suggests further that those days when the driving counted for as much
as the ownership experience are over.
This is a deftly executed mid-sized MPV, cleverer by far than its bland looks suggest, but
if you’re looking for the first car in this class to offer something truly special to the
driver, your hunt will continue past the end of this page.
It feels supremely competent but is less well balanced than I had come to expect from
Ford. Its steering, the critical interface between car and driver, is now good rather than
the exceptional you might presume from the blue oval. Then again, you may think this
scarcely matters. This is, after all, a people carrier, not a racing car. But I think it all the
more important that cars such as these offer their owners something to smile about before
a long journey, and its appearance — though less blobby than other MPVs — is unlikely
to be one of them.
You do benefit from a smart interior and the usual multitude of bins, trays and cubby-
holes, but much the same can be said of any number of other cars on the market. What
you won’t find in the C-Max is extra seats. If a people mover that’s unable to move any
more people than usual makes a nonsense of the entire MPV concept, the buying public
seems not to have noticed. The best-selling MPV in the country, Citroën’s Picasso, offers
just five seats, and Ford reckons half of its C-Max customers won’t even have children.
And this is where it’s clever. Instead of making extra seats appear from nowhere, the C-
Max’s party trick is to make one of its few existing seats disappear. By pushing the centre
rear seat back into the cavernous boot, you can move the two outer seats diagonally
rearward and inboard, at once creating luxury limousine levels of leg and shoulder room
in a car the size of a Ford Focus. This, Ford is gambling, will be of much greater use to
its customers for much more of the time than installing a third row of seats that will
hardly ever see a backside.
Instinctively I am with Ford on this one. Were I a parent of many I’d not want any child
sitting so near the site of a rear-end accident; I would drive as large an MPV as I could
afford even if it meant buying second-hand.
I expect people who already have seven-seaters will be put off the C-Max (and as the
seven-seat Vauxhall Zafira is the second biggest seller, that’s a sizeable chunk of the
market), because they will see it as trading down. However, they should ask themselves
how often those seats are ever in use.
For in other areas the C-Max is quite impressive. Its handling won’t have you giggling in
the same way as so many Fords of the recent past, but its chassis still offers a better blend
of ride and response than most rivals. I drove a 1.8 litre petrol that offered distinctly
modest performance (0-60mph in 10.8sec, top speed 120mph) and I’d be surprised if
either of the two diesels (1.6 and 2 litres) did not prove better options when sales start in
November. Certainly the car is astonishingly quiet so I’d not expect any refinement issues
from Ford’s latest generation of diesels.
So having started by saying how worried I am by this car, I will end by saying the C-Max
is preferable to both class bestsellers — though how its sales perform against rivals such
as the VW Touran and the next-generation Renault Scénic remains to be seen.
Yet still I’m concerned, and this is why. It’s not actually called the Ford C-Max: its real
name is Ford Focus C-Max. But the Focus on which it is based is not the car beloved of
so many millions of drivers, but next year’s all-new model. And while it may or may not
be all right for an anonymous looking mid-sized MPV to be only mildly appealing to the
driver, the same should not be said of the next Ford Focus.
When the current Focus was new it was the best driver’s car in its class by a staggering
margin. Five years on, it still is. It is the defining characteristic of a car that has been this
country’s bestseller for every year of its existence. That is something Ford dilutes at its
peril.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model Ford Focus C-Max 1.8

Engine type Four cylinders, 1798cc
Suspension (front) MacPherson struts (rear) multi-link axle
Tyres 205/50 R 17
Fuel/CO2 39.7mpg (combined), 170g/km
Acceleration 0-62mph: 10.8sec
Top speed 120mph
Price £13,000 (approx)
Verdict Thoughtfully conceived and likeable but not the driver's MPV many will have
hoped for
It is a sad but undeniable fact that we have been living through an era of almost
relentlessly dull car design. Of course, you can find exceptions among cars few of us can
afford, but if you look at the cars normal people drive, the unimaginative lines seem
designed to do nothing more than ensure that no one ever takes offence at them. That
offends me.
The current Ford Focus looks older than the car it replaces, the shape of the latest VW
Golf is stultifyingly predictable, while even quite a pretty car such as the Vauxhall Astra
is little more than a well executed variation of an all too familiar theme.
The excuse often trotted out for this lazy design is that the legislative rulebook is now so
thick that cars almost design themselves and there remains little room for true creativity.
The good news is that I think the world is finally waking up. Those designers wringing
their hands at the restrictions they believe have been placed on their artistry should look
at the Citroën C4 or Renault Mégane or BMW 1-series for proof that it is possible to be
different.
But, bizarrely, it is the new Honda Civic that has raised the creative bar. Bizarre, because
the average Civic buyer is traditionally the most conservative of all car users. Quite what
they will make of the new Civic, arguably the most futuristic car on the road, remains to
be seen.
This is not just a conventional car with a few wacky additions — it has been crafted
inside and out never to let the driver forget that he or she has chosen to be different.
Potential buyers will first have to be comfortable with that before this car makes sense.
But Honda’s real achievement is to have created a futuristic car that still works as it
should. It is roomy front and rear, boasts a big boot and rear seats that cleverly flip up as
well as folding flat to create a genuinely versatile interior.
Only three engines are available, a 1.4 litre and 1.8 litre petrol and a 2.2 litre diesel, and
your choice of powerplant is as important as any other factor in buying a Civic. Even if
the rest of the car were absolutely class leading, I could not recommend the petrol to
anyone who ranks refinement as even a minor priority. Thanks to short gearing, you
cannot escape its raucous note. It would be easier to justify if the car were a little road
rocket, but it’s not. Besides, the engine is so noisy you soon tire of revving it any further
than you absolutely have to.
Swapping to the diesel brings a near total transformation. Diesels have progressed so far
in recent years that many are now more civilised than their petrol equivalents, and the
Civic’s is no exception. It has so much torque from little more than idling speed that it
doesn’t need to be thrashed, but when you do its manners are better by far than that of its
uncouth petrol brother.
It allows the rest of the Civic to shine. Get it on the right road and it will cruise all day in
refined comfort. Only in town does its lumpy, low-speed ride reveal a lack of suspension
sophistication relative to the Focus or Golf.
Fans of the wildly popular, and outrageously powerful, Civic Type-R will have to wait a
little longer before the brand returns. Honda refuses even to confirm the existence of a
Type-R project for this generation of Civic, but it can be expected to come clean on the
subject in the spring, with the car on sale in less than a year. According to one proud
engineer: “It will give the Focus ST more than a little to think about.”
In the meantime I leave the standard Swindon-built Civic in good humour, so long as the
right engine is under the bonnet. Even so, it faces a tough task in carrying on the job so
ably started by the Accord of convincing the public that Honda is more of a rival for
BMW and Audi than Ford and Vauxhall.
But with keen pricing relative to its German opposition and with Glass’s Guide making
favourable noises about its residual values, the diesel has the ability to continue the job.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model Honda Civic 2.2 i-CDTi EX

Engine type 2204cc, four cylinders in line
Fuel/CO2 53.3mpg (combined cycle) / 135g/km
Price £18,100
Verdict The world’s most conservative car just got interesting
Rating 4/5
THE OPPOSITION
Model Audi A3 Sportback 2.0 TDI £18,585

For Good looks, classy build quality, smart interior
Against Raucous engine, handling more fluent than fun
Model BMW 120d £19,410

For Excellent performance and economy, good ride
Against Looks awful, cramped rear, too expensive
Do you remember when Gladiators was Saturday night for millions across Britain? The
Queen music scores; the giant cotton buds that no one knew the proper names for; the
allegedly match-rigging presenter. Here was an American import embraced by the
Birmingham National Indoor Arena that appealed to everyone, from kids looking to
brush up their playground fight manoeuvres to pervy dads hoping for cheap up-skirt
thrills. It was The Krypton Factor without the side parting, and if the five-grand prize
money didn’t whet your appetite (or cover the gym fees), the overall winner even drove
away in a 4x4 off-road vehicle with its hazard warning lights jammed on.
Can the relaunched version regain the cult viewing status? It’s an important question, not
just for Gladiators but for another American import that is strong on visual impact but
lacking in subtlety, substance and class: the Hummer.
With a bloodline that goes back to the US military troop taxi (H1) and the 2.9ton, 6.2 litre
civilian Tonka toy (H2), the H3 is the latest addition to the family. Shorter, narrower and
lower, General Motors’ new baby (made in South Africa) has, its parent proudly reports,
been on a European diet and been completely redesigned to be the most “urban-friendly”
Hummer yet. Which means it’s right-hand drive, with 3.7 litres and five cylinders,
weighs 2.6 tons and drinks only petrol. In tree-hugging terms I suppose it’s like ordering
a mink coat, but in medium rather than large.
Using the Hummer as a target for eco-prejudices is a tad hypocritical, especially when so
many Brits waft around in supercharged V8 Range Rovers. Though it must be said, on
the day of my test drive it seemed the gods were trying to tell me something.
BACKGROUND
 Jeremy Clarkson drives the Hummer H2
 Ariel Atom 3 and Hummer H3
 Hummer H3
First the radio announced fuel shortages in Scotland due to refinery workers’ strikes.
Shortly afterwards there was news that between them BP and Shell had posted record
quarterly profits of £8.5 billion. As I neared the off-road course at Brooklands via the
M25, traffic ground to a halt. Hordes of fuel protesters were on their way to barricade
Park Lane to express their glee at British diesel breaking the £1.20 a litre barrier. The
only way now to wring additional guilt from a lone man driving a chrome and yellow
Duplo brick would be for someone to play Chris Rea’s Road to Hell. And they did. Nice
work, Radio 2.
It’s okay, though, because the Hummer isn’t so much an SUV as one of those big army
ducks in disguise. The ride feels choppy, like being on a ship, which will make kids
seasick and adults reach for the nearest grab handle. On closer inspection, it turns out that
the poor ride is due to the H3’s prehistoric rear leaf suspension (its H2 brother had a
superior five-link setup and the older H1 boasted fully independent coil-sprung A-arms).
The nautical theme continues with the small, deeply recessed side windows like
rectangular portholes. There are even bumper-mounted jumbo eyelets for when you dock
on uneven ground. Or need somewhere to tie the bull terrier when stationary.
So why would you buy one of these wallowing hulks? Well, near the top of the list must
be the desire to insulate yourself from modern traffic jams by travelling in the maximum
amount of personal space. How is it, then, that the drawing-board geniuses at GM have
managed to make it far smaller on the inside than it appears on the outside? They’ve
created a Retardis – a reverse Tardis.
Haul your carcass into the cabin (there’s a step to help you, only it’s not at a useful
height) and settle into the podgy leather thrones and it feels like a medium-sized family
estate. My left leg started to throb after 50 miles because the swollen transmission tunnel
prohibits it from stretching straight. A big chunk of cabin room is taken up by the T-
shifter, which is truly of hammerhead shark proportions (H3s have manual gearboxes as
standard but mine is automatic).
After an hour or so behind the wheel I somehow forget the visual severity of what I’m
driving, until I pull up outside a mirrored shop facade. Remember in Quantum Leap when
Sam Beckett is teleported into another place and time as somebody else? You see him as
Scott Bakula until he peers into the surface of a ripple-free lake, or something like that,
and then you realise he’s not a scientist but now trapped in the skin of a middle-aged
female barrister who is stuck in a cave with cannibals.
The reflection in that shop window was not of a lanky motoring journalist but of a veiny
WWE champ with ’roid rage. The Hummer H3 is an automotive version of the guy who
walks past with intricate cobwebs inked across his entire shaved head. If your priority is
getting rubbernecked, there is no finer machine. There’s one redeeming feature. Sort of.
Because the Hummer is full-time four-wheel drive and because its brother is in the army,
it likes to play in mud. And it plays very well, even with road tyres. If Britain experiences
a record rainfall, I can report it will eagerly wade through water 610mm deep. Just as I
was discovering the Hummer’s strongest point, however, there was more bad news. The
H3 is possibly the only off-roader that looks better when polished than when mud-caked.
Worse still, it possesses an effective self-soiling system thanks to some
nonaerodynamics. Insects don’t have a chance of avoiding that completely flat
windscreen (last seen in the old Fiat Panda) and even the smallest of muddy puddles
resprays the rear haunches brown.
Hummer HQ has tried to please us Euro chaps with a right-hook steering wheel, smaller
outer dimensions and even a lower rear bumper bar so that tailgaters in Smarts don’t
decapitate themselves if they don’t brake as quickly as you. They’ve gone to the effort of
building a 20-valve 242bhp five-pot engine and calling it something that sounds like a
male enhancement drug – Vortec 3700. The problem is, it doesn’t run on diesel.
When negotiating the filler cap, you might be mistaken into thinking that fuel was a
precious commodity to those who live in Hum world. In order to feed the H3 fuel you
have first to use a circular barrel key to undo the chrome door. This lock is up there with
those ones that stop expensive mountain bikes going missing. Then, with the chubby
chrome door open, you have to use another key to access its throat. I spent two minutes
getting to the point of nozzle access, and then came a long wait. With fuel at 115p a litre,
it took £100.05 to brim the 87 litre tank. Someone with a quiff and a Trans Am once said
to me, “The key to enjoying Yank metal is to avoid rational thinking, adore the aesthetics
and, when you get to the fuel pumps, wedge your fingers in your ears and shout la-la-la-
la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.” So why, despite all of the above, did the H3 have me captivated?
The only rational explanation I can give is that it appeals to the same primeval cortex that
causes people to bay at violent sports events such as, well, Gladiators. To begin with, I
disliked it. Then I felt a grudging affection. Finally, I loved it. Or, at least, I loved what I
felt like when I was driving it.
And why not? After all, it’s really only an American version of the Land Rover Defender
– a British-built 4x4 that holds the road with equal reluctance, is just as unergonomic
inside, has a crap turning circle, rarely returns better economy and is slow and expensive.
Yet for some reason, because the Defender’s got paint the same colour as hedges and is
driven by folk with dung on their shoes, it’s almost celebrated as the vehicle for
scientists, nature-chasers, riot police and television chefs who harp on about local
ingredients. Drive the “urban-friendly” baby Hummer around towns and, to judge by the
stares, you might as well have strolled into a bird sanctuary and shot a pair of breeding
albatrosses.
It’s not as though Hummers have ever claimed to be something they’re not. It’s a lorry
chassis with a militarily inspired cab bolted atop. Americans have been using this recipe
since the days of 1950s fins and chrome, so why stop now? It’s not as though they’re
talented at pulling off European style or Japanese functionality.
All right, the H3 is an irrational choice, but what other vehicle can you lash ropes to and
reenact a scene from The Fall Guy by bursting through the nearest rickety gate? What the
hell – go the whole hog and have howling wolves airbrushed on the spare-wheel cover.
It’s one of only 500 heading our way.
Vital statistics
Model Hummer H3 Adventure automatic

Engine 3653cc, five cylinders
Transmission Four-speed automatic
CO2 346g/km
Top speed 98mph
Price £27,995
Road tax band G (£400 a year)
On sale Now
Verdict An honest and likeable caricature
The prospect of driving a Hyundai Getz caused me, I must confess, no difficulty in
getting to sleep the night before. Regular readers of Driving might consider this a
thoroughly deserved reality check after my recent almost unbroken diet of wildly
expensive German luxury cars, but you’d be wrong.
I am instinctively a bigger fan of superminis than luxury barges and right now they
represent the most overachieving class of car on the market. The likes of the Skoda Fabia
and Honda Jazz have transformed the lot of budget motorists and what they provide for
the money is, to my mind, a sight more impressive than any number of overpowerful,
overpriced examples of conspicuous consumption.
The problem was that it was a Hyundai: the name alone makes me want to groan. All car
companies make good cars and bad cars — except Hyundai. Hyundai just makes cars.
Every one I have driven has left me struck dumb by its inoffensiveness. Anything that
could be conceived as character is exorcised on the drawing board so that you end up
with the automotive equivalent of Piat d’Or. The new Ferrari-esque Coupé looks as
though it could be the exception that proves the rule, but I haven’t driven it so wouldn’t
know.
Therefore, when the Hyundai Getz 1.1 GSi duly put-putted up to my house my
enthusiasm was not straining at the leash. The Getz has been styled by Koreans to look
European and the result is about as successful as you’d expect of a car styled by
Europeans to look Korean. All the elements are there but there’s no cohesion and it
resembles an attempt to design a very bland hatchback using only 1970s Photofit
technology.
Imagine my surprise when I climbed inside and found a spacious and almost attractive
cabin. Some of the materials have clearly come out of the bargain bucket but the overall
effect is as coherent and successful as the outside is misconceived and awkward. It’s
spacious, too, for something so small.
Not having done my homework as diligently as I should before I drove the car, I was not
surprised to see a fairly lavish level of standard equipment. This, after all, was the GSi
model, a nomenclature originally coined by Vauxhall to signify the top of the range.
Antilock brakes with electronic brake force distribution (EBD), power steering, electric
windows and central locking are all included. Then I dug a little deeper and discovered
that Hyundai does not speak Vauxhall and its acronyms mean something else entirely.
This, in fact, is the cheapest Getz: just £6,995 is all you need to put a three-door 1.1 GSi
on the road, and for that price it is very well equipped.
Even so, using the lure of “free” goodies to divert attention from a car’s failings is as old
as the industry and a practice Hyundai has employed more often and more successfully
than most over the years. But then I drove the Getz and realised within the first mile that I
was driving a landmark car, if not for its class then certainly for its creator. Despite
appearances entirely to the contrary, and setting precedent aside, the Hyundai Getz is a
good car. And if that surprises you, you should have seen the look on my face.
It’s good not because it’s quick or handles well, because it isn’t and it doesn’t. What
impresses is its recognition that such considerations are irrelevant in a market sector
where space, economy, low emissions and comfort are what really count. And in all these
respects it challenges the class best.
Next, look more closely at all that equipment: Hyundai has ignored pointless gadgetry
and targeted commonsense safety items, such as antilock brakes, or things that truly
improve the ease of ownership, such as power steering and central locking.
Finally, be advised that the Getz comes with the longest warranty of any car on the road.
Like all Hyundais, and unlike any other make, you won’t have to pay for anything that
goes wrong for five years after you buy it, regardless of mileage. That could easily mean
100,000 miles of worry-free motoring.
The package does need some refining. The 1,086cc, 62bhp engine provides adequate
town performance but should you venture beyond the city limits and try to keep up with
fast-lane traffic you’ll soon find you’re pushing it faster than it cares to go, and the result
is excessive noise and a coarse engine tone. It’s best either to move over and stick to an
easy 70mph cruise or avoid motorways altogether.
Stay on the A roads and it’s pleasant enough, thanks to its light controls, excellent ride
and delightful gearbox. Even so, anyone actually looking to enjoy their driving should
steer well clear.
But this does not negate the fact that the Getz represents excellent value for money,
something not even the horrors of depreciation can spoil: at £6,995 there’s just not that
far for it to fall. It might not look terribly attractive, have puny performance and wear one
of the least coveted badges in the class, but in those areas that matter it is capable and
likeable.
How good does this make the Getz? Before considering the financial argument, I’d rank
it as a middle-order class contender. It doesn’t come close to a Skoda Fabia but I’d prefer
it to the equivalent Vauxhall Corsa any day. Factor its price, equipment and warranty into
the equation, however, and the Getz can credibly claim to be the best value supermini on
the market.
It has its limitations — for a just qualified driver able to afford new wheels a Ford Ka is
cheaper and far funkier — but as a second car for shopping, the school run and taking
entirely for granted the Hyundai makes a compelling case for itself.
All I’d suggest to anyone about to buy one is fit an alarm that can be triggered remotely.
Thieves may not need deterring but it’s so anonymous that if you leave your Getz in a
street full of parked cars it may be the only way of finding it again.
Vital statistics
Model Hyundai Getz 1.1 GSi
Engine type Four cylinders, 1,086cc
Suspension (front) struts, coil springs; (rear) torsion beam rear axle
Tyres 155/80 R13
CO2 138g/km
Insurance Group 3
Company car tax £420 for higher-rate taxpayers
Top speed 93mph
Price £6,995 (three-door)
Verdict Better than you'd ever believe
The storage area under the armrest between the front seats is not the obvious place to start
reviewing a new car, but stick with me. The vehicle in question is the i30, a new, small,
family hatchback from Hyundai.
Flip up the armrest’s upholstered top and you will find a shallow tray to keep coins, to
pay for parking, and other small items. Lift that and below is a deep storage area for CDs,
but also with USB and auxiliary sockets so drivers can plug in MP3 music players.
A shaped flap covers the two holes so they will not get clogged with dust and the
identifying labels are lit in the same blue as the rest of the dashboard display. What is
more, the base of this storage bin has a material lining, so if you leave your MP3 player
inside, it will not bang around noisily – or get damaged – as you go round corners.
Why do I mention this? Because it is an indication of how far Korean cars have come in
the 25 years since the first model, the Hyundai Pony, arrived in the UK. Even in the
recent past, such an “out of sight” area would have been ignored by the design team.
It would more likely have rough plastic edges, a hard base and nasty exposed screw heads
than connection points for the latest electronic gizmos. The i30 is a joint venture vehicle
with sister firm Kia; its version, the Cee’d, was launched earlier in the year. The pair are
built on the same chassis and share engines and transmissions, although the finished
products look slightly different. For the driver, the Hyundai has been set up to ride
slightly softer and more comfortably than the sportier Cee’d. The other thing that they
have got in common is that they are actually quite good.
On sale from September, with an estate to follow early next year, the i30 is available only
as a five-door hatchback. There are four engines available: the 1.6litre 115bhp diesel will
account for the bulk of sales, with a 1.4litre 109bhp petrol also likely to be popular.
A 1.6litre 122bhp petrol and a 2.0litre 140bhp diesel will also be available.
At the launch, journalists had the chance to drive the two 1.6 units and, just as it is on the
Cee’d, the diesel is easily the pick of the pair. It is smooth and torquey, with plenty of
readily available acceleration.
By contrast, the petrol engine gets noisy, feeling as if it is working too hard if you do not
change up the gears smartly. Overtaking needs to be planned because gaps in the traffic
that you thought were there suddenly seem not to be.
The interior of the i30 is a revelation compared with previous Korean offerings. OK, it is
not going to win the Turner Prize for being funky and different, but it is stylish, simple,
sensibly laid out and, crucially, seems very well put together. The plastics feel of decent
quality and the seats are finished in smart black fabric that looks as though it will last.
The i30 cabin is roomy, too, in part because it has the longest wheelbase of any of its
rivals. The back seat is spacious and there is plenty of boot space.
Hyundai executives expect the i30 to appeal to buyers in their thirties or older. They want
it to steal sales from the likes of the Citroën C4, Peugeot 307 and Toyota Auris, as well as
the class-leading Ford Focus. There are three trim levels and the car is priced from
£10,995 to £16,595.
The company is basing the i30’s appeal on a high level of standard kit, including traction
control. The audio package is also impressive, with every car getting a CD/radio, MP3
connectivity and steering wheel controls. For peace-of-mind motoring there is Hyundai’s
standard five-year unlimited mileage warranty. It is a lot of car for the money and the
bonus is that it is good to drive, especially the diesel.
The one area that lets down the i30 is its exterior. It is a pretty anonymous machine and,
in an age when designers and engineers are combining to make some great-looking cars,
its blandness could put people off.
Remember Skoda jokes? What do you call a Skoda at the top of the hill? A miracle. How
do you double the value of your Skoda? Fill it with petrol. What do you call a Skoda with
a sunroof? A skip. How we chortled.
The thing is, nobody tells Skoda jokes any more.
The biggest joke would have been if, 15 years ago, someone had told you that Skodas
would soon become cars of quality, rivals to the best the market had to offer. Prepare to
feel the same way about Hyundai in less time than that.
Quietly, Hyundai has been improving its offer to the public, not just by following the
age-old Korean policy of low prices but, more worryingly for the established European
hierarchy, turning out impressive cars. When the i30 family hatchback was launched last
year, I tested it against the then (pre-facelift) Ford Focus and VW Golf, and it was the
best of the bunch.
Hyundai’s latest offering is the i20, which went on sale on Thursday. It is a small hatch
designed to hit the Vauxhall Corsa and Ford Fiesta where it hurts. As cheap to buy,
cheaper to run and worth more when you sell it at the end of its life, the i20 has the value
contest won already. What will make rivals sigh with relief is that, however cheap, well
equipped and capable it may be, the i20 has nothing to offer more stylishly inclined
buyers. Despite being designed in Europe, it is a visual non-event, the kind of car you
leave in a car park and walk past five times trying to find again.
Hyundai says the mid-spec 1.2 Comfort will be the biggest seller and has priced the five-
door version at £9,445, though this will rise to £9,645 when electronic stability program
(ESP) becomes standard in April. By comparison the equivalent Fiesta costs £10,179 —
despite the fact that curtain airbags, alloy wheels, ESP, a USB port, trip computer and
electric rear windows are either optional or unavailable. The i20 boasts them as standard.
The rest of its specification is highly impressive too: it uses less fuel than the Fiesta and
Corsa — and the same as the unsung hero of the class, the Mazda2 — emits lower levels
of CO2 than all three, yet offers the equal best acceleration. It even has the biggest boot.
Before you can appreciate any of these strengths, however, you must accept one of the
drabbest cabins I can remember in a new supermini in recent years. Colourless,
unimaginative and of mediocre quality, it’s hard to see how its European designers could
have concluded it was good enough to fit in with Hyundai’s ambition.
Under the skin the i20 is a much better product. It makes for a capable and likeable car
for bowling around town that is also happy cruising in a motorway’s outside lane —
which in this class is as much as you can reasonably expect.
Much of the credit goes to its newly developed 1.2 litre engine. Hyundai’s engineers
sensibly chose to prioritise torque over power. So while its flat-out acceleration is only a
little better than the class average, its response at low engine speeds is impressive.
It’s also good to drive. The steering is crisp and communicative and while it lacks the
grip, balance and poise of a Fiesta or Mazda2 on a good road, it still provides a
substantially more entertaining way of passing the time than most rivals, including those
from France whose ancestors once dominated this discipline. Even the ride quality is
above what you might expect from such a car. It’s no limousine, but it can show more
established opponents how a small, light car with simple suspension can be made to ride
and handle with aplomb.
It should also prove a cheap and easy car to live with. Despite being one of the shorter
cars in the class, the cabin is spacious, especially in the back where its awkwardly upright
shape pays dividends in headroom. It’s outstandingly frugal — I couldn’t persuade it to
return less than 40mpg, which means most owners can expect more than 50mpg in mixed
motoring. Nevertheless while its CO2 emissions are ultra-low for the class, its tax disc
will cost the same £120 as any rival. This is a shame. If Hyundai could have cut its CO2
figure by another 4g/km, it would have cost just £35.
That said, Hyundai is presenting a straight choice to prospective buyers: pay extra for the
style and flair of a Fiesta or buy a more practical and still capable i20 and save yourself a
considerable sum not just when you buy, but every time you fill up. And with the five-
year warranty, when you come to sell, its residual values will beat the competition. Me?
I’d always pay the extra for the Fiesta because every time I looked at it, or drove it, I’d
know the money was well spent.
HYUNDAI i20 1.2 Comfort
ENGINE 1248cc, four cylinders
POWER 77bhp @ 6000rpm
TORQUE 87 lb ft @ 4000rpm
TRANSMISSION Five-speed manual
FUEL/CO2 54.3mpg / 124g/km
ACCELERATION 0-62mph: 12.9sec
TOP SPEED 103mph
PRICE £9,445
ROAD TAX BAND C (£120 a year)
VERDICT For your head, not heart
RELEASE DATE On sale now
ALSO WORTH CONSIDERING
Ford Fiesta Style+ £10,179
For: Stylish appearance, fun to drive, beautiful interior

Against: Not enough room in the back, expensive
Mazda2 1.3 TS2 £9,878
For: Best car for drivers in the class, frugal
Against: Not a great looker, insufficiently refined
The flight was long, the seat uncomfortable, the entertainment unwatchable.
As I sat in that strange hinterland between sleep and wakefulness, one small spark of
happiness illuminated the gloom. In the end, after the agonies of baggage retrieval and
the car-park bus, I would reach the car.
So often it has been my wife’s elderly A-class Mercedes waiting to take me the 170 miles
home. But this time there was a new Jaguar XJ.
The difference between it and the shambling Merc? In the Mercedes I resent every
rattling, creaking mile of the journey. In the Jag, as I opened the door it felt as though I
had already arrived in my living room.
The new XJ is the first in its 37-year history to be powered by a diesel engine — a 2.7
litre V6. The result is so quiet you have to concentrate to hear the difference. Even then
the slight growl is only detectable when the engine is stone cold. Once under way nobody
would ever know. That is to say, nobody would know if it weren’t for the matter of fuel
consumption. There was enough in the tank to get me home even though it was showing
only a third full.
I remain as puzzled as ever that some manufacturers of large luxury cars think there are
priorities more important than ride and refinement. BMW has engineered its 7-series to
handle extraordinarily well but has created a car that’s less than comfortable over long
distances in the process. Audi’s A8 is a car I both like and admire, but to my mind it
impresses because of its functional excellence rather than luxury.
In the current market only the Lexus LS 430, Mercedes S-class and this Jaguar are so
effortlessly smooth they seem to resurface every road you encounter.
In the Jaguar, not only is the engine barely audible at steady motorway cruise but even
during hard acceleration the extra sound is no more than the multi-cylinder hum you’d
hope for in a car such as this.
A still bigger surprise is that a relatively small 2.7 litre diesel engine can push such a
large car along with such alacrity. Jaguar’s brave and expensive decision to make both
the XJ’s structure and bodywork from aluminium has created an extremely light car, so
while its 204bhp may sound a little weedy compared with, say, the 3 litre BMW 730d’s
228bhp, the Jaguar is nearly 250kg lighter than its German rival. That means in terms of
power to weight — the only really meaningful measure of a car’s performance potential
— the Jag is superior. It’ll hit 60mph in just 7.8sec and top 140mph, enough for the most
hurried of executives.
And, of course, 35mpg fuel consumption means that while petrol-powered luxury cars
will struggle to put much more than 350 miles between fills, the Jag will do 550 miles on
a tank. If you do 20,000 miles a year, that’s three hours it’s saved you at the pumps —
not to mention the thick end of £1,000.
The terrible pity of it all, of course, is that so many will continue to be put off this really
pretty fabulous car by its looks. It’s not ugly and in many ways it might be better if it
were — then at least it might be characterful. As it is, the XJ looks like the kind of car
that someone who has holidayed every year in Clacton would buy as a second-hand
retirement present for themselves “because I’ve always wanted a Jag”. Sadly it is
symptomatic of the wider issues within Jaguar right now.
There’s not another car manufacturer whose fortunes over the next five years I’m going
to watch more closely. Currently the company is having a terrible time, with slow sales
and the weakness of the dollar costing its Ford parent the kind of money that even the
world’s third largest car company can ill-afford. The strategy to establish Jaguar as a
volume manufacturer to rival Mercedes and BMW has failed and it must now redefine
itself one more time or face the unthinkable but inevitable consequences.
Encouragingly, if the various leaks, rumours and gossip are to be relied upon, current
thinking suggests that the road to recovery lies in becoming smaller, not bigger, and that
Jaguar will be reborn as an upmarket low-volume manufacturer of sporting and luxury
cars, similar in size to Porsche. I understand that the disappointing X-type saloon will not
be directly replaced but that the long-awaited F-type roadster will finally be given the
green light in a mission to hit the Porsche Boxster where it hurts.
If this proves to be the case, I believe Jaguar will not only survive but prosper. One drive
in the XJ diesel confirms that Jaguar wants for nothing on the engineering front, and if
the XJ can be reskinned to look as modern and advanced as it actually is, I think people
will flock to it.
In the meantime expect the vast majority of all XJs that do find their way onto the road to
be diesel-powered from now on. It may not look like much, but underneath it is one of
the most effective, satisfying and soothing executive cars you can buy.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model Jaguar XJ 2.7 TDVi Sovereign

Engine type Six cylinders, 2722cc
Power/Torque 204bhp at 4000rpm / 321 lb ft at 1900rpm
Fuel/CO2 35mpg (combined), 214g/km
Acceleration 0-60mph: 7.8sec / Top speed: 141mph
Price £49,995
Verdict Get beneath the old-man looks and it’s a winner
Rating 4/5
THE OPPOSITION
Model Audi A8 3.0 TDi Quattro SE

For Great looking inside and out, terrific image and quality
Against Ride quality, diesel motor not as refined as many
Model BMW 730d SE

For Remarkably good fun to drive, very spacious interior
Against Ride quality, dodgy look, iDrive operating system
Sometimes it’s wise to have a good ponder about your prejudices, an internal audit of
long-held beliefs, just to make sure that stuff hasn’t changed when you weren’t looking.
As evidence, I submit the fact that for 25 years I haven’t eaten curry, convinced that it
was food-shaped napalm containing suspect meat.
This was of course more than a little misguided. But I’m not the only one: people do like
to write stuff off, even if their experience of a product is actually quite limited. And so it
is with Jaguar.
The number of times I’ve heard people harrumphing themselves almost inside out and
declaring that Jaguars are an “old man’s car”, based on the fact that they once saw
Inspector Morse fondling a Mark II. When you ask them whether they’ve ever driven
one, they tend to say no, or hold up as evidence an aged X-type that their brother-in-law
once borrowed from work. But time for a revisit, because Jaguar has been busy.
In a stroke of genius timing, and in the face of a global economic meltdown, Jaguar has
launched this: the newest and fastest version of its XF saloon, the 510bhp £60,000 XFR.
Sod the credit crunch and all that. And you can forget the bleating that the new engine
produces less CO2 than the previous 4.2-litre V8 and that it is still comparable on fuel
consumption, because a four-door saloon that does 0-60mph in 4.7sec and an
electronically limited 155mph is not here to save the world — albeit perhaps from
boredom. It is here to step Jaguar’s game up a notch because this XFR is seriously good.
It’s so good in fact that you’d think all Jaguar needed to do to make the XFR would be to
just slap on some Vaseline, squeeze in a hugely powerful engine and — bingo — instant
world-beater. But no. The XFR is more than that, and really quite a subtle, rounded
prospect.
It doesn’t look like a car with a supercharged V8 and 510bhp, for a start. It just looks like
an XF, albeit one with extra tailpipes and ducts on the front bumper. It hasn’t sprouted a
fungal mess of spoilers or suddenly developed a “look at me” complex. True, the 20in
wheels have the word “supercharged” engraved showily around their centres, but there’s
a comforting lack of cheesy bolt-on bits’n’bobs that might chip away at the confident
subtlety.
And it dribbles around like a diesel XF — which is to say very well indeed — with a
great ride, nice steering and a slick-shifting six-speed automatic gearbox. The XFR
serenely manages all the slightly dreary, day-to-day stuff without breaking sweat. But
when the road clears and you snap the accelerator to the floor, the realisation is that under
the thick veneer of sophistication the car is completely bloody bonkers.
The change is quite extraordinary; somewhere along the lines of your local vicar
suddenly brandishing a Desert Eagle handgun and addressing the problem of littering on
the village green with extreme prejudice. Indeed, if you were to drive the XFR gently,
you might never even tap the well of extreme dynamic violence that it is blatantly
capable of. But when you really go for it, the huge reserve of deep-chested power
becomes a very real, colourful thing; the supercharged fishing rod that you can use to reel
in the horizon.
It accelerates spectacularly from rest, but it’s on a sweeping A-road or motorway where
the big Jag will really bare its teeth. Flick the paddles behind the steering wheel to select
third gear, stamp on the throttle at 50mph and an enormous 461 lb ft of torque will shunt
you forwards with supercar pace, pinning your body back into super-comfortable seats.
You know the bit when an airline pilot guns a jumbo and you surge up the runway? It’s
like that. Except slightly more scary. Suddenly that beautifully crafted English brogue
turns out to have a steel toecap — and it’s perfectly capable of using it.
You arrive at the first corner rather more rapidly than you anticipate and, somewhere in
the back of your mind, expect to wake up in hospital wearing the XFR’s steering wheel
as a headband. But you don’t. The XFR has a new system called Adaptive Dynamics that
alters the way the dampers work (500 times a second, no less) depending on how the car
is being driven. Thus you can have a bottom-friendly ride when cruising back from the
supermarket and something a little firmer when you fancy annoying the boy racers. It
also means you can drive around corners at a speed that borders on witchcraft — and still
listen to Radio 4.
Fiddle with a couple of buttons and you can even stop the auto gearbox changing up at
the red line for extra control, stiffen things up even further and allow the car to do the
kind of effortless powerslides that should keep even Clarkson happy. Yet it also has
tremendous grip. Grip that can happily pull your features into interesting new
arrangements and alter the orbit of your pupils. And brakes that can clench the car to a
stop. It is, from where I’m sitting, absolutely exceptional.
The trick is that the XFR has a supreme grasp on the duality of purpose it needs to
succeed. Fast four-doors generally have some sort of glaring personality disorder, a piece
of the overall puzzle that inexplicably goes missing in the pursuit of out-and-out speed.
The BMW M5, for example, is horrendously clever, and takes a lot of perverse pleasure
in demonstrating exactly how much cleverer than you it actually is. There are way too
many settings for human comfort, lending it an air of technological brilliance that
somehow fails to connect at an emotional level. It’s like trying to have an affair with a
calculator.
The £65,000 M5 also uses a naturally aspirated and extremely revvy V10 engine that
unfailingly encourages you to drive like your nether regions are on fire — all of the time.
The Audi RS6 at £75,000, on the other hand, offers the surety of four-wheel drive and the
sneering absolutism of not just a V10 engine, but one with twin turbos and 572bhp.
Which is a lot, and the car is brain-meltingly fast as a result. The problem? It’s deadly
dull to drive.
The point is that the XFR is more complete than any of its rivals. No, the automatic
gearbox isn’t as fast as either the Audi or the BMW, the V8 could do with being a tad
noisier when it gets going and in the final reckoning I still think a brilliant driver could
wring more speed from either of the Germans. But 99% of us aren’t brilliant, or if we are,
aren’t in a position to be brilliant on a daily basis. On those days, you need your four-
door saloon to be able to swan around doing normal, everyday stuff.
You need it to go shopping, carry people without making them sick and then, on the odd
occasion you’re in the mood, still make that idiot in the BMW M3 swallow his tongue.
And it is this the XFR manages so well. It’s got old-school Jag values, with cutting edge
performance. What more could you ask?
The Fordometer
ENGINE 5000cc, V8, supercharged

POWER 510bhp @ 6500rpm
TORQUE 461 lb ft @ 2500rpm
TRANSMISSION Six-speed automatic
FUEL 22.5mpg (combined)
CO2 292g/km
ACCELERATION 0-60mph: 4.7sec
TOP SPEED 155mph (limited)
PRICE £59,900
ROAD TAX BAND G (£400 a year)
RELEASE DATE March 2009
FORD'S VERDICT Perfect car for those with nothing to prove
Life is far from great at Jaguar right now. Its X-type bulk seller is performing below
expectations and it has no diesels to offer when diesel has become the latest fashion.
Meanwhile Audi, BMW and Mercedes continue to make packets out of peddling cheap-
to-develop “lifestyle” estates, of which Jaguar has none. Nor has the mood in Coventry
been helped by three hideously expensive and fairly disastrous years in Formula One.
And on the surface this new XJ looks far from the solution to any of these problems.
Cautiously styled to resemble an expanded version of the old XJ, it appears too keen not
to offend those who have made sure Jaguar has sold more XJs over 35 years than every
other model put together. It should have been as progressive and beautiful as the original
XJ in 1968, but it appears retro and introspective.
In fact, contrary to appearances, the XJ is the most radical big saloon on the market and
Jaguar has timed its appearance to perfection, just as its competitors are starting to focus
on the very issue it addresses.
The issue is weight. By building the XJ around an aluminium monocoque and clothing it
in aluminium body panels Jaguar has created a phenomenally light car.
The heaviest XJ, the supercharged XJR, weighs just 1,665kg compared with, say, the
2,319kg of the heaviest VW Phaeton. That’s two-thirds of a ton less weight to carry
around. And even against more slimline rivals you’d need to bolt a baby elephant to an
XJ’s roof to balance the scales.
So it will come as no surprise that, as a range, the new XJ offers not only the best average
performance of the class but also the most frugal fuel consumption and the lowest
emissions. It has also addressed the one critical failing of the old XJ: the new car is as
spacious as its predecessor was cramped.
Jaguar’s enlightened philosophy has also made it possible to start the range with a cut-
price, £39,000, 3 litre V6 that will still hit 60mph in 7.8sec on its way to 145mph.
Next up is a new 3.5 litre V8 motor that provides the XJ8 only a little more power and
performance (0-60 in 7.3sec, 150mph) for what seems like a vast hike in price to
£48,000. What these statistics don’t show is not only the much better level of standard
equipment offered by this car but also the superior manners of its eight-cylinder engine.
Even so, those who can spend just £3,500 more on the 4.2-litre version of the XJ8 will
probably not regret it. This time the performance hike is considerable (0-60 in 6.3sec, top
speed restricted to 155mph).
But the most powerful of the new XJs is the XJR, whose supercharged 400bhp engine
provides genuine supercar performance: 0-60mph in 5sec dead and a top speed that
would top 170mph were it not for electronic intervention. This is Porsche 911
performance in a four-door saloon. It costs £58,500.
But while the XJR is easily the quickest of the new range, it is far from being the best.
The Mercedes E55 AMG — with considerably more power and torque — would blow it
off the road. And while it is more capable than the old XJR, its handling has been tamed
and some of its unruly charms lost in the process.
At the other end of the range, the new XJ6 makes a more persuasive argument. At
1,545kg it is lighter than a fully equipped X-type, a car designed to compete with the
BMW 3-series. As a result, the XJ6 is so light on its feet it disguises its Mercedes S-class
size brilliantly. And don’t worry that its engine is derived from a Ford Mondeo unit: it’s
smoother and quieter than Mercedes’s similarly powerful V6 engine.
But the real superstar is the XJ8 4.2. More than quick enough for most tastes yet
unsaddled with the expectation to perform, it is as smooth, sophisticated and capable as
you could ever hope a Jaguar to be.
Best in class then? Not quite. The Mercedes S-class still holds that title with both hands.
Ultimately, these are luxury cars and what matters most are ride, refinement, luxury feel
and appearance, and in all these the Mercedes still beats the better handling, more
efficient Jaguar. But it’s close and Jaguar should be congratulated. When you’re up
against the S-class, there is no shame in being as good as the best of the rest.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model Jaguar XJ8 4.2
Suspension (front) double wishbones, air springs, anti-roll bar; (rear) multi-link axle, air
springs, anti-roll bar
Tyres 235/50 ZR18
Co car tax £7,209 for a higher-rate taxpayer
Top speed 155mph
Price £51,500
Verdict Disappointing looks disguise a fine new car
It’s a phrase you’ll read in most of the earnest car magazines: “You get a lot of car for the
money.” Most of the time it means you’re buying a car that is cheap but there’s plenty of
it. All well and good, but like an all-you-can-eat buffet you can quickly lose your
appetite.
In the case of the Kia Sportage you do indeed get a lot of car for the money. When it goes
on sale in March the entry-level diesel Sportage will cost about £15,000 and comes with
an overflowing equipment list containing some of the expected items — alloy wheels,
air-conditioning and power steering — and some that will be a nice little surprise, such as
a CD player with MP3 playback.
However, the crucial question here is: has the Kia managed to bring a bit of quality to the
experience? It has to be said that the previous generation Sportage lowered expectations
to the point where its successor would have struggled to disappoint. The car looked so
bland it should have had a Tesco barcode on the side. The on-road dynamics were
abysmal and the interior had all the ambience and character of an A&E waiting room. It
gamely took on the likes of Toyota’s RAV4 and the venerable Land Rover Freelander —
and lost. Pound for pound the new Kia is a more worthy rival.
Kia, a subsidiary of Hyundai of South Korea, is Europe’s fastest-growing motor

manufacturer for the second year running and sold more than 30,000 vehicles in Britain
last year. The company saw critical success with the Picanto, whose bigger brother the
Sedona has become one of the country’s bestselling large MPVs.
The new Sportage has one immediate drawback, however: it is still slightly odd to
behold. For one thing the wheels look too small and those big claddings over the wheel
arches — supposed to add a sporty aspect — appear to belong on another car entirely.
There is no question that the best view is from behind, where the Sportage’s huge
expanse of glass has a touch of Volvo’s XC90 off-roader.
As a veteran of the old Sportage, my first big surprise came when I tucked in behind the
wheel. The cabin doesn’t scream “Korean bargain bin”. You’ll know it isn’t European
but this could easily be a mainstream Japanese cabin. In other words, quite good fit and
assembly, yet with the occasional plastic surface feeling a bit cheap.
There’s also quite a generous amount of space: two 6ft-plus blokes can sit comfortably
one behind the other. Likewise two guys can sit side by side in the back without any
undue shoulder contact.
The other neat thing about the interior is the 60/40 split-folding rear seats. When you
lower the backs, the squabs slide down into the footwell, which means the seats fold
perfectly flat for a nice level load floor. It might not seem like much, until you try fitting
that sideboard in.
There are also three-point safety belts for five occupants, with Isofix mountings in the
rear for child safety seats and up to six airbags — including the latest impact-severity and
weight-sensing dual front, side curtain and seat airbags — providing state-of-the-art
passenger protection.
The Kia has a nifty top-hinged tailgate with a glass screen that opens separately, so you
can pop small things in the boot without the hassle of opening a heavy boot lid.
The new car is better to be in than the old Sportage and better to drive, too. It has
independent suspension all round along with rack-and-pinion steering. You can drive it
surprisingly quickly over some pretty challenging roads, and it’s easy to place accurately
through corners. While not as much fun as a RAV4, the Sportage is not the tedious
companion it once was. It even manages to ride well.
I drove the 2 litre 110bhp turbodiesel with a five-speed manual. I have to say that the
engine’s torque impresses — all 181 lb ft of it. And this is available from as little as
1800rpm, which means that the Sportage has lots of kick without you having to rev it like
Schumacher.
The gearbox also felt nice to use, with mechanical precision and a smooth action. Even
though the Sportage is four-wheel drive, power usually goes to just the front wheels
unless they lose their grip, at which point it is sent to the rear wheels, too.
I tried the diesel engine with the optional four-speed automatic transmission, which felt
even slower than the claimed 0-62mph time of 13.8sec. Nor was I impressed by the 2.7
litre petrol V6 version (on sale now along with a 2 litre petrol), which was thrashy and
unrefined when pushed, and greedy at the fuel pumps. No question, the manual 2 litre
diesel is the one to go for.
It’ll return nearly 40mpg combined, according to Kia, and the performance is perfectly
adequate.
So has the Kia elevated itself to the point where the fight isn’t just over money? In my
view, cash is still going to be the decider, and only a Kia dealer would argue that the
Sportage is a more satisfying car than a RAV4 or the Freelander. The Sportage, however,
has closed the gap significantly.
Vital statistics
Model Kia Sportage 2.0 CRDi

Engine type Four-cylinder, 1991cc
Power/torque 110bhp @ 4000rpm / 181 lb ft @ 1800-2500rpm
Price £15,000 (estimated)
Verdict A better car than the one it replaces, but destined to struggle against established
players
The Opposition
Model Toyota RAV4 2.0 D-4D XT3, £18,245

For Probably the best-looking small SUV
Against It's been around for quite a while
Model Land Rover Freelander 2.0 Td4, £17,200

For The most credible-looking off-roader, with a fantastic heritage
Against A history of less-than-impeccable quality and reliability
The marketing guys at Kia are a refreshingly candid bunch. I mean, it takes some courage
to admit buyers of your car were probably looking for something else.
The logic is that customers wanting, say, a nice hatchback such as a Ford Focus or a
Vauxhall Astra, might plump for a Sportage SUV when they see that it costs the same
sort of money. Similarly sized compact SUVs such as the Toyota RAV4 and Honda CR-
V are much more expensive.
Kia has also accepted that the majority of those who buy small SUVs want the pose of a
tough-guy off-roader, but don’t actually need the off-road bit. That’s why you can now
get a two-wheel-drive-only Sportage for even less cash – the new entry level model costs
£13,995 – £1,350 less than the previous poverty-spec Sportage.
This latest model gains body-coloured bumpers and side cladding as standard, a mildly
tweaked grille and larger wing mirrors to meet European Union regulations. Sure, it still
looks a little odd from some angles, but the rear view has an uncanny look of the Volvo
XC90 about it.
And there’s yet more candidness from Kia, which reckons a sizeable proportion of Brits
still believe Korean car companies can’t put things together quite as well as their
European or Japanese counterparts. To put those doubts to rest, it has slapped a seven-
year, 100,000-mile warranty on the thing, which, as guarantees go, is pretty amazing. Kia
claims this is the best warranty in the business, and is proud to mention that it’s
transferable to subsequent owners, which can only help with future resale.
In terms of quality, the fit and finish of my test car were certainly up to Japanese
standards, and nothing rattled over a long day’s drive. The aluminium-like finish in the
cabin is reasonably convincing, and the seat cloth has been extended further around the
back of the seat, which used to be plastic covered.
The cars, built in Slovakia, are also exclusively destined for Europe, which means the
chassis has been better tuned for our tastes than was the previous-generation Sportage.
There are definite dynamic improvements, with tauter handling and a meatier feel to the
steering. The low-speed ride is good, but there’s a bit too much vertical bounce
noticeable at motorway speeds.
With a choice of three engines – a 2.7 litre V6, a 2 litre petrol and a 138bhp 2 litre diesel,
it’s the last of these that’s likely to be the default choice. The front-wheel-drive-only
diesel Sportage is only available with a four-speed automatic transmission, and on a
motorway cruise I found this combination painfully slow and unresponsive. The official
figures are 0-62mph in 15.3sec and 35.3mpg on the combined cycle.
By comparison, the four-wheel-drive version with six-speed manual transmission, felt

quick, reaching 0-62mph in 12sec, and that in spite of weighing some 160lb more than
the two-wheel-drive model. To add insult to injury, the four-wheel-drive version is
significantly more fuel efficient, at 39.8mpg combined. This tells us one thing: that the
four-wheel-drive diesel is the one to go for (it’s not available with an automatic gearbox,
and you wouldn’t want it if it were).
Inside, the Sportage gets some minor tweaks. The front seat squabs are slightly longer
and wider to accommodate our expanding Euro-butts, and the rear seats are set slightly
lower, although I doubt that many will notice the extra 5mm of resulting headroom. Five
adults can travel in reasonable comfort, and Kia also claims to have reduced noise levels
with better sunroof seals and clever sculpting of the wing mirrors.
The 60/40 folding rear seats are rather cunning. When they’re lowered, the seat squabs
slide forward and down into the footwell so the seatbacks can fold flush with the floor.
Another nice touch is the separately opening rear window, which allows you to chuck
small items into the boot without having to open the tailgate.
And the driving position is fine, although the steering wheel adjusts only for rake, and not
reach. Outward vision is good, and judging the position of the car’s corners is easy,
something that’s not always a given on an off-roader.
For the record, we did take the four-wheel-drive Sportage off-road over a course of
middling difficulty. There’s no low-range gearbox, but you can select a four-wheel-drive
mode that ensures power always goes to all four wheels – in regular road mode, the
Sportage defaults to front-drive if the system senses there’s plentiful grip. And no, we
didn’t get stuck, although we did generate a fair amount of clutch-stink on the steeper
bits.
For those setting out to buy a compact SUV – not those accidentally distracted hatchback
buyers – the field is littered with contenders such as the Toyota RAV4, the Honda CR-V
and the Nissan X-Trail. They have the pedigree and the reassurance of a respected and
long-serving brand, but the least expensive of this trio is the £18,795 X-Trail 2.0i Trek.
However, Kia might suggest you feel the spec. Even the most basic Sportage comes with
air-conditioning, remote locking, headlamp levelling, power steering, CD, MP3 port,
front foglamps, six airbags and alloy wheels.
Yet it still all comes down to the badge. It’s too early in Kia’s brand life for owners to
say: “I drive a Kia,” without hastily adding all of those riders about hatchback money and
seven-year warranties.
Actually, I’m not at all convinced that Brits think Koreans can’t build cars properly. The
real issue is that we need a lot of incentive to drive something with that Kia script on the
boot lid. The pride of ownership here is about the deal you got . . . and sod the badge. For
some of us, that’s plenty good enough.
Model Kia Sportage 2.0 CRDi 4WD

Engine type 1991cc, four cylinders, turbodiesel
Power/Torque 138bhp / 225 lb ft
Price £14,995
Verdict Competent car, indifferent badge
Rating
Date of release January 2008
The opposition
Model Nissan X-Trail 2.0i Trek £18,795
For Good off-road, refined on road
Against Styling is a bit dull
Model Toyota RAV4 XT3 VVT-i £19,095
For Excellent diesel, car-like driving
Against Getting quite pricey now
Global warming doesn’t mean much in Arizona. This, after all, is a state that boasts 325
sunny days a year and where the average temperature out in the sepia landscape is 30C. A
couple of degrees warmer wouldn’t feel much different, so the locals don’t bother much
with climate-saving hybrid cars. On the cactus-lined roads outside Phoenix jacked-up
Ford pickup trucks with big V8 engines are where it is at.
So it was fitting that this is where Lamborghini chose to launch its “super sports car”, the
4x4 Gallardo Superleggera, which cocks a V10-powered snook at the concept of green
motoring. First seen at the Geneva Motor Show last month this is a stripped down version
of the standard Gallardo coupé.
More powerful and faster than that car, the Superleggera (it means superlight) is billed as
the edgiest car in the Lamborghini range, aimed at buyers who want a bit more
exclusivity and excitement for their six-figure outlay. The company has also managed the
near impossible and made the original Gallardo’s fuel economy worse: down from
14.5mpg to just 13mpg.
With a lurid yellow paint job it looks like an angry insect among the dusty pickups on the
interstate, sounds like a thunderstorm and goes like the clappers. But we shall get to that
later. First a word about the company that builds it.
Not so long ago Lamborghini had some fairly serious problems. The cars it made were
glorious over-the-top follies, beautiful, frighteningly fast but wildly impractical. The
dealer network was ad hoc at best, all orders were processed individually by the factory
and the company managed to build about 250 cars a year. Then in 1998 Audi, part of the
VW group, took over the company and began instilling some German order on the Italian
marque. A new programme of cars got under way including the range-topping V12
Murciélago in 2000 followed by the Gallardo three years later. Last year the company
sold 2,087 cars.
The Gallardo was a supercar for the modern age. For a start it didn’t break down every
other week. It had air-conditioning and electric windows. You could see out of the back,
and because it was only a little bigger than a Ford Focus you could drive it down streets
without worrying about scraping the side panels on bus shelters.
People began to take notice of the new-style Lambo, not least the men from Ferrari.
When I mentioned the Gallardo to a Ferrari executive who was at the time proudly
showing off a 575 Maranello, he sniffily replied that it was nothing but an Audi with a
body kit. “No soul,” he said. Clearly this was not true but the remark revealed unease at
Ferrari, which has for so long cornered the market in exotic supercars. Suddenly there’s a
new player on the piazza.
The Superleggera represents the latest stage of Lamborghini’s transformation and the
company makes little secret of the fact that its primary purpose is to keep the brand in the
news: building a new car is not cheap while updating an existing car, adding (or in this
case taking away) a few features, enables it to remain in the public eye at minimum cost.
It is therefore legitimate to view this car as little more than part of a marketing strategy,
born in the boardroom as much as of a passionate desire to make a brilliant, no-
compromise sports car. But that would be doing it an injustice: the Superleggera, by all
conventional measures, is a staggeringly good car, and most buyers at this end of the
market won’t give two hoots about marketing strategies. They just want to know how it
goes, how it looks and whether their neighbour will have one.
Faster than the standard Gallardo (and the Spyder convertible version launched last year)
the Superleggera is now the quickest in its class, beating rivals such as the Ferrari F430
and Porsche 911 Turbo. It hits 62mph in 3.8sec (0.4 less than the coupé) and has had its 5
litre V10 tweaked to produce an extra 10bhp, though the top speed remains 196mph.
However, it is the loss of weight that responsible for much of the improved performance
and handling. Virtually everything that can be made from lightweight carbon has been —
door panels, bonnet, wing mirrors — while the glass engine cover has been replaced with
transparent polycarbonate. Even the wheel nuts are made from titanium in an attempt to
shed a few more grams. The car weighs 2,932lb — 220lb less than the coupé — giving it
a power to weight ratio of 392bhp per tonne against a Ferrari F430’s 333bhp per tonne, a
911 Turbo’s 298bhp per tonne.
On the road its Pirelli tyres and four-wheel-drive system mean it takes corners as if it’s on
electrified rails, even at speeds that would make your mother faint, making you pleased
for the moulded racing seats and (optional) four-point safety harness. The handling is
race-car sharp while the V10, positioned inches behind the driver’s head, emits a
wonderful howl that is amplified by a modified exhaust system and will stay with you
long after you have switched the ignition off.
This car likes to be driven at the top of its abilities and at speeds that most drivers won’t
dare unless they are on a track. In a straight line it is frighteningly quick: jam the throttle
down and you are thrown into the back of the seat as the rev counter bounces into the red
in an instant and the car catapults well over the stingy US speed limits. The manual gated
gearbox is easy and accurate, although Lamborghini says that most buyers will opt for the
e-gear paddleshift, which is smooth and fast and, when downshifting, gives a satisfyingly
noisy blip on the throttle to match gear ratio with engine speed.
The car comes with the option of carbon ceramic brakes, which at £9,729 cost more than
many superminis. However, while they don’t have better stopping power than regular
steel brakes (Lamborghini claims the car will brake from 62mph to standstill in 36 yards)
they do last longer and resist fade better.
The interior, though pared down, is still a reasonably comfortable place to be for a sports
car of this kind. Carbon-fibre door panels give it a classy sheen while, despite the
stripped-down nature of the car, the presence of electric windows, air-conditioning, sat
nav and radio make it plain that this is not a track-day only machine.
All of this comes at a price. The Superleggera, with e-gear, is £150,990 — £22,000 more
than a similarly equipped standard Gallardo, which sets the question: why pay more
money for less car? Lamborghini says the answer lies in the Superleggera’s improved
performance and its predicted exclusivity: only 350 are being built with about 30 of those
destined for the UK.
All have been sold already but disappointed thrill seekers will be pleased to hear that
there are tentative plans to produce an even rawer version to compete in same-car motor-
sport events. Lamborghini is playing its cards close to its chest but one thing is for sure:
the car will be fast, furious and — environmentally speaking — totally irresponsible. We
can’t wait.
Vital statistics
Model Lamborghini Gallardo Superleggera
Engine type 4961cc, V10
Transmission Six-speed e-gear
Fuel/CO2 13mpg (combined) / 400 g/km
Price £150,990
Verdict Impressive power, style and performance
Rating 4/5
Date of release May
The opposition
Model Porsche 911 GT3 RS £94,280
For Superb driveability, cheap (in comparison)
Against Lacks supercar presence and exclusivity
Model Ferrari F430 coupé £122,775
For Best Ferrari for years, great handling
Against More obvious than a Lamborghini
Half a dozen choppers ferrying journalists and Lamborghini top brass flew in formation
over the scorched badlands of Nevada like something out of Apocalypse Now. Only
Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries was missing. This was not a reenactment of Francis Ford
Coppola’s Vietnam classic but an expensively staged spectacular to mark the unveiling of
the new Lamborghini Gallardo LP560-4.
Could the launch of a tweaked version of an existing car possibly justify all this
razzmatazz? Admittedly the LP5604 is more powerful than the standard Gallardo,
quicker, lighter and more thrilling to drive. But the differences are subtle rather than
stark. One suspects the theatricals were therefore more to do with Lamborghini’s
carefully mapped out marketing strategy of launching a new car each year.
The LP5604 will replace the original Gallardo, which has been in production since 2003
and has been by far the most successful Lamborghini in history, shifting more than 7,000
units to date. Competition from Ferrari, in the form of the F430 Scuderia, and Porsche,
not to mention the possibility of an Audi R8 V10 later in the year, means that Lambo has
been forced to up the ante.
Close up, the LP5604 (the LP stands for “longitudinale posteriore”, the position and
arrangement of the engine, the 560 refers to its metric power output and the 4 denotes
permanent four-wheel drive), is a ferocious-looking machine. The stub nose drops
viciously over the front wheels, while the front air vents have been enlarged to feed the
larger engine. The lines along the flank remain sharp and the fat rear end, which houses
the engine, is beefier than a Geordie doorman and packs just as big a punch. The new
engine adds 39bhp to the standard car’s 513bhp and will hit 62mph from standing in
3.7sec, shaving 0.2sec off the sprint speed of its predecessor. It has a top speed of
202mph. To put the car’s sheer power and performance into some sort of perspective it is
worth remembering that a normal family car will typically reach 60mph in about 12sec.
The LP5604 will be travelling at 124mph in 11.8sec.
It is the sort of power that can get a driver into trouble, and within an hour at the
speedway a Russian journalist had ploughed off the track, over a gravelled area, through
a metal fence and into a brick wall. He survived but the car didn’t. This then is a beast
with all the ferocious appeal of a Siegfried & Roy pet tiger - one moment of inattention
and it can turn and bite.
Like the original Gallardo, the LP5604 has all the fixtures and fittings you would expect
in a family saloon: sat nav, air-con and stereo. The black leather seats hold you in place
well enough, but overall you are left feeling distinctly underwhelmed. The switchgear on
the fascia is chunky and metallic and, for my tastes at least, a little too visible: who wants
to be confronted by a conspicuous button to operate the electric windows in a £143,350
supercar? At the same time, parts of the rev counter and speedo can be blocked from
view by the small steering wheel.
These are minor quibbles. The real test of the car is not inside the cabin but out on the
road. Gun the engine in your garage and neighbours will think an F-15 has landed on
your driveway. From inside the cockpit the noise is even more monumental: the engine is
situated six inches from the back of your head.
Floor the throttle and the acceleration is savage. The new gearbox is a huge improvement
on the original, and changes are fast (120 milliseconds) and seamless both in auto and in
paddle-shift mode. On the track, where all you have to lose is your nerve, the ride is
thrilling. But is the car quite the extreme, no-compromise racer that Lamborghini would
have us believe?
After several tyre-squealing laps, the one question I was asking was how the Russian
managed to lose control. The LP5604 is fast and fun but it is not uncontrollable. Time
and again, just as the car began to wobble, the onboard electronics kicked in to pull it
back from the edge. Feel the back end begin to slide and instantly power is redistributed
to the wheels that need it and cut from those that don’t, to keep things on the straight and
narrow. And good though the new box is - especially in “corsa” race mode – it is not as
visceral and real as a genuine manual gearstick. Lamborghini says a manual box will be
available but that most of its customers prefer the ease of the paddle shift.
And this is probably at the heart of the Gallardo LP5604: it is billed as edgy and extreme
- as is the company that makes it – but it is not yet a full-blooded seat-of-your-pants
supercar. Such a car needs to be coaxed and tamed to get the most out of it; the LP5604 is
house-trained and flatters the driver.
When it goes on sale in June it will initially sit in the company’s product range alongside
the standard Gallardo (which will eventually be phased out) and last year’s stripped-down
version, the Superleggera. It will undoubtedly sell well and add to the growing allure of
the brand, which has seen sales increase from 1,000 cars in 2003 to 2,406 in 2007. The
company, renowned for its Italian flair but now under the ownership of Audi, is
embarking on an ambitious German-style expansion plan. The odds are we will see a
Spyder version of the LP5604 masquerading as a new car next year.
All this helps to keep the brand fresh and lively - as does its new merchandise line of
clothes and key rings (can’t afford the car? Buy the sweatshirt instead) and its clever
product placement (watch out for the Lambo in the new Batman film this summer) – and
it will certainly have its arch rival Ferrari keeping a wary eye on its Italian neighbour. But
whether this particular new car is quite as “extreme, uncompromising and Italian” as the
slogan claims is a moot point.
Still, none of that really seems to matter when you are sitting in a traffic jam outside the
neon casinos on the Las Vegas Strip. Here, where fortunes are made and lost on the turn
of a card or the spin of the roulette wheel, you are not looking for visceral performance
and the fear of stalling. Instead you are soaking up the looks and the camera flashes from
passers-by thinking the same thing as you are: “If I get lucky tonight I’m gonna buy me
one of those.”
Vital statistics
Model Lamborghini Gallardo LP5604

Engine type 5204cc, 10 cylinders
Power / Torque 552bhp @ 8000rpm / 398 lb ft @ 6500rpm
Transmission Six-speed clutchless manual
Fuel / CO2 13.6mpg (combined) / 351g/km
Performance 0-62mph: 3.7sec / top speed: 202mph
Road tax band Band G (£400 per year)
Price £143,350
Verdict Watch out, Ferrari
Rating
Date of release June
The opposition
Model Ferrari F430 Scuderia £172,605

For Superb performance and handling
Against Expensive, more common than a Lambo
Model Porsche 911 GT2 £131,070

For Brilliant to drive, relatively affordable
Against Lacks romance of an Italian supercar
Forty years ago Lamborghini produced a car called the Miura. For the first time a
supercar’s engine was mounted directly behind the driver and slung transversely across
rather than longitudinally along the engine bay. Knee-wiltingly beautiful, it was the car
that was going to change everything. It made Ferrari look obsolete.
Except it didn’t quite happen that way. Ferrari went from strength to strength while
Lamborghini struggled from owner to owner. Ferraris flew out of the showrooms by the
thousand while Lamborghinis trickled out by the dozen, usually to stop not far up the
road in a cloud of smoke.
Somehow, however, the company continued and in 1998 Lamborghini was bought by
Volkswagen, to be run by Audi. The future looked bright to anyone who could see the
promise of a car built using Italian supercar theory and German production car practice.
But when in 2004 I drove the car intended to finally deliver on the promise Lamborghini
had made so many years earlier, I was disappointed. The Gallardo was quick but clinical,
offered no challenge and had little character.
Now it seems Lamborghini was only practising. Anyone who remembers the head-to-
head comparison with the Ferrari F430 in Driving nine weeks ago will know that the
Gallardo has been transformed for 2006, and now they’ve gone and chopped its head off,
too.
Dismiss this Gallardo Spyder as a poseur’s delight at your peril. Fabric roof or not, this
car will reach 62mph from rest in 4.3sec and not stop until 196mph, or 192mph if you are
sufficiently certifiable to have the roof down at the time. All the modifications that turned
the Gallardo coupé from a pretender to Ferrari’s crown to a real challenger are present in
the Spyder. There’s a 520bhp engine, shorter gear ratios, quicker steering and revised
suspension too.
And there’s a beautifully engineered roof that can disappear beneath the carbon fibre
engine cover within 20 seconds. Best of all, with the roof down there’s nothing to impede
the engine’s assault on your ears. Thanks to its V10 formation, it sounds like a modern
Formula One engine that’s been sampled, dropped a couple of octaves and blasted back
with the volume at 11. You may think it’s a good-looking car but it’s a Trabant on bricks
compared with the beauty of its sound.
Nor does this soundtrack promise anything the car cannot deliver. Explosive performance
is matched by brakes strong enough to threaten to knock the air out of your chest.
There are acres of grip but when the car does start to slide it does so with an ease and
progression rare in any supercar, let alone one with a mid-engined configuration. There
are hatchbacks that are harder to drive really fast than this. Which, in another car, might
make it boring. I have always enjoyed a good scrap with the various Lambos I’ve driven
over the years, but you can’t fight this car because it makes it clear from the outset that
it’s on your side. You understand that neither of you is master or servant: you’re in it
together.
When you’re done having fun, you do that other thing this car was born for: posing. I
always feel a fraud driving cars in glam locations when I can afford neither, but rarely
more so than when wandering through the Florida Keys with a sunburnt scalp and a
convertible Lamborghini.
This car will do good business everywhere it is sold. It is a Lamborghini to own, not
simply to drive, a great-looking convertible with the reliability of an Audi that
nevertheless retains the red-blooded passion of the traditional Italian supercar.
Back in 1966 it appeared Lamborghini was going to change everything. If this Gallardo is
indicative of what’s to come from Lamborghini, then 40 years on it just might do that.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder

Engine type 4961cc, V10
Fuel/CO2 Figures not available
Price £115,000
Verdict Utterly convincing in every respect
Rating 5/5
THE OPPOSITION
Model Ferrari F430 Spider £127,050

For Mesmeric engine, superb handling
Against Looks slightly awkward, long waiting list
Model Aston Martin DB9 Volante £115,850

For Wonderful looks, smooth V12 engine
Against James Bond image wearing thin
Tucked away in a quiet corner of Land Rover’s production plant in Solihull, West
Midlands, is the renowned Jungle Track, a car-breaking maze of 2ft-deep rivers, one-in-
three gradients, collapsed bridges, mud-streaked concrete steps and bouldered terrain. But
for the new Land Rover Discovery — with four million miles of testing in deserts, frozen
Arctic wastes and jungle — it is a breeze.
This is a car that can climb muddy hills so steep that all you can see is sky and the end of
the bonnet. It will walk its way down the steepest hills, including the slippery concrete
staircase, and wade through rivers, much to the consternation of the herons that live
nearby. In fact, cross your favourite living-room chair with a mountain goat and you are
getting close to the comfort and go-anywhere abilities of the new Discovery — in a
showroom near you this month.
The car has taken more than four years to design and engineer, starting life as a doodled
sketch in the margin of a notebook belonging to Andy Wheel, the lead designer.
What he and his team have come up with is a wonderful mix of the high-tech and the
brutally effective: the car is a mass of computer wizardry and electronics, but the rear,
fold-down tailgate had to pass the 2BBT (Two Big Blokes Test), proving it is able to
withstand the weight of two largish Land Rover chaps standing on it without collapsing.
The car also had to undergo “doggie” tests, with a variety of dogs leaping in and out,
proving that the car could also be home to pets.
The top-of-the-range Discovery is not cheap, yet despite a price tag approaching £50,000,
all-purpose hose-down rubber mats feature on the floors. The message is simple: this is a
car to do a job but to do it in style. If your family is thirsty, there are cubby holes to hold
14 litres of bottled drinks. There are seven seats in three rows, each row slightly higher
than the one in front, giving everyone a view rather than a sight of the headrest in front.
The rear five seats all fold flat in an instant to give a huge loading area.
The new Discovery is not quite as tall as the previous model, making it easier to get into
underground car parks, but it is longer: only 4in outside, but clever packaging means that
there is more than a foot of extra legroom inside.
Even the most ardent Discovery fans have said that the car could be better on the road,
where most spend the majority of their lives. Now it is. The new Discovery is quieter,
more refined and more civilised. The commanding position of the driver’s seat, huge rear
mirrors and gigantic windows mean that you have near 360-degree vision. The 4.4-litre,
Jaguar- derived V8 petrol engine is thirsty (motorway fuel consumption averaged 17mpg)
but wonderfully smooth and the accelerator needs to be used judiciously because the
car’s stability and quietness means that it is all too easy to pass the motorway speed limit.
Body roll, a problem with early Discoverys, has disappeared.
But it is off-road that the Discovery remains unbeatable. The suspension lowers to cope
with high-speed tarmac driving and to make it easy to get in and out, and rises to cope
with rocks or off-road motoring. The ingenious Terrain Response allows the driver to
swivel a chunky switch in the central console and tailor the car’s driving response to
whether you are driving on the road, slippery grass, gravel or snow, over mud and ruts,
through sand or over rocks and boulders. There is also a yellow Hill Descent Control
button that ensures that the car’s engine and brakes automatically keep everything
smooth, controlled and unflustered when descending slippery, muddy or gravel-strewn
hills.
About one in three Discovery customers will have a go on the Jungle Track for an eye-
widening experience that proves that they have not just bought the latest designer
accessory for impressing the neighbours or muscling into the school run. When you buy a
Land Rover Discovery, you buy half a century of experience over every kind of rut and
ravine. I know. I tried it.
AT A GLANCE THE NEW MODEL
PRICE: From about £27,000 to £50,000. HSE version tested: £46,995

POWER: 4.4-litre, V8 petrol, 295 brake horsepower driving all four wheels through six-
speed automatic gearbox
PERFORMANCE: Top speed 121mph, 0 to 60mph in 8sec
IMPORTANT MILESTONE OR ANOTHER GAS GUZZLER?
Phil Popham, Land Rover's managing director, answers the questions
Not another Chelsea Tractor. Is there room for a new 4 x 4 on our roads?
PP: The footprint of the car on the road is no bigger than that of a large saloon and far
from being “gas guzzlers”, the engines are far more fuel-efficient and cleaner than the
outgoing model.
A car for the Urban Warrior or mud-plugging farmer?
PP: It is true that most customers will never use the vehicle to its fullest off-road
potential, although a third will take one of our off-road tuition courses.
So how important is the new Discovery?
PP: New Discovery is hugely important, replacing a car that has been crucial to Land
Rover since it was launched in 1988, was the best-selling vehicle of its type before
Freelander and which, with 100,000 Discoverys sold in the UK, has a huge following.
Important then. But is it any good?

PP: This is the first all-new car we have produced from scratch since we came under
Ford ownership in 2000. It is hugely practical as a seven-seat family car. My four and
six-year-olds and all their friends love the seating arrangements.
Kiddy-proof is fine, but what about off-road?
PP: The chunkiness of the switches, the usability and durability of the interior, the
functionality, plus the huge load space, mean it is highly versatile.
Isn't £27,000 to almost £50,000 a lot for a Discovery?
PP: The range is priced from £26,995, which is incredible value for money given that
servicing costs are down 40 per cent against the old model and fuel economy is better.
Hmm, so who will buy it?
PP: The trick now is not just to target existing Discovery owners but to woo back those
“lapsed” owners. We plan to sell between 12,000 and 13,000 in 2005 but the car is
already sold out until next March and the new registration plate.
Will it last as long as its predecessor?
PP: It has gone through four million miles of testing and the quality and build are above
anything we have done before.
DRIVEN TO DISTRACTION: TEN THINGS YOU DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT

LAND ROVER
 Doors were optional extras on the first Land Rover. The car was born when the
Wilks brothers, Spencer and Maurice, both directors at Rover, came up with the
idea of a lightweight 4 x 4 similar to the American Army Jeep that had served
with distinction in the Second World War. A postwar shortage of steel forced the
brothers to use aluminium body panels.
 The first Land Rover was built in 1948 with a canvas roof. Within three years it
was outselling Rover saloons two to one. Since then, more than 3.25 million Land
Rover Defenders, Range Rovers, Discoverys and Freelanders have been sold
around the world.
 One of the first customers was King George VI, who placed an order after being
impressed during tests at Sandringham and Balmoral.
 Land Rover’s early go-anywhere vehicles were loved by farmers and the military.
Then, in 1970, came the original “Chelsea Tractor”, the Range Rover, a civilised
4 x 4 that stayed in original three-door guise for a decade before a five-door
version was launched.
 Discovery was launched in 1988-89 (the company’s first new vehicle for almost
20 years) with an interior designed by Conran, featuring handy string hammocks
to stow kit and a fetching shoulder bag that sat between passenger and driver.
 The greatest car ever? Viewers of BBC TV’s Top Gear voted Land Rover the
greatest vehicle of all time, praising its design and durability.
 Land Rover as art? Yup: the original Land Rover was star of the show when it
featured in a display at the Louvre in Paris in 1970 as a modern sculpture.
 Car for the stars: Madonna and her newlywed husband, Guy Ritchie, rode from
their wedding to their reception at Skibo Castle in Sutherland in a Range Rover.
Other Land Rover fans have included Sir Richard Branson, Kate Moss and the
Pope.
 The car is the star: a Land Rover Defender starred in the adventure movie, Lara
Croft: Tomb Raider, with Angelina Jolie in the title role, roaming the world
fearlessly tackling the bad guys.
 And finally: you will never go thirsty in the Discovery. There are enough cubby
holes in the new car to hold 14 litres of bottled drinks.
Driving a car at 200mph is not always the thrill you might expect. So long as the car is
stable and the tarmac smooth, straight, dry and deserted, you just wait as the world rushes
past ever faster until the number pops up on the dial.
I didn’t drive this Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren Roadster at 200mph, because conditions
on the autobahn didn’t allow, but I got close enough to know that, this side of a chocolate
fireplace, there are few things in this world more pointless than a 200mph convertible.
Quite aside from the effects on the life expectancy of your hairpiece, it’s not actually a
pleasant way of passing the time.
That said, it is not difficult to like a car that accelerates so hard it makes your passenger
yelp. Its 5.5 litre V8 is now one of Mercedes’ oldest engines and come next spring will
have been replaced in every model save the SLR, but it is still the most characterful. And
in a car without a roof there is even greater opportunity to savour its thundering
soundtrack, overlaid by the unique whine of a hardworking supercharger.
Whether that makes the SLR Roadster worth £350,000, and nearly £35,000 more than the
coupé upon which it’s based, is another matter. You don’t need me to tell you that 35
grand will buy a very passable car, not least a Mercedes-Benz SLK that gives you all the
advantages of a coupé and roadster under one folding steel roof. Yet £35,000 is the
premium that Mercedes is charging to replace the SLR’s carbon-fibre roof with one made
predominantly from fabric.
It’s true that the car has had to be significantly reengineered to stop its weight from
ballooning (it still weighs a hardly dainty 1750kg, some 57kg more than the coupé) but
when stowed the roof doesn’t even live under a cover and when erected needs to be
locked onto the windscreen manually. Mercedes says all this was done to minimise
weight.
But while you can choose to snipe at this approach (and I do), you have also to recognise
that there is not another car that has lost so little of its dynamic prowess in the conversion
from coupé to convertible. The fact that it was made from carbon fibre, just like a
Formula One car, has helped reduce the effects of chopping off the roof.
Credit also has to be given to the way Mercedes has managed the airflow around the car
at high speeds. Up to around 140mph you naturally hear the wind rushing by but you
actually feel remarkably little of it, which means that at more normal speeds you should
be able to enjoy hour after hour of roof-down motoring without becoming tired or
uncomfortable, so the cruise from La Croisette to the Boulevard des Anglais is unlikely
to prove taxing.
And that, of course, is its real role. Whatever its capabilities, the SLR Roadster is
designed with one purpose in mind: namely taking its owner and a favoured other to a
place where both will be noticed by other rich people, most of whom will surmise quite
correctly that the owner has more money than them.
So having started by saying few things are more pointless than a 200mph convertible, I
must conclude by saying the Roadster version is the best of the SLR breed. Because it has
a low revving eight cylinder engine and a slow shifting five speed automatic gearbox, it’s
never going to offer the sheer driving pleasure of a Ferrari 599 GTB, even at almost twice
the price. But as a car to take you long distances in comfort and at high speeds, and make
you look, if not cool, then at least affluent when you arrive, it ticks every box. And that is
its point.
What this means for other SLRs remains to be seen. The unlikeable 722 Edition has
already sold out and the standard coupé has stopped production to make way for the
Roadster. Whether it will ever resume is something upon which Mercedes would not be
drawn.
In the meantime, if you want a new SLR, a Roadster it must be. Is it worth £350,000? Not
even close. Do I want one? Not much. Will it at last achieve the one thing the SLR coupé
never managed and prove a success in the showroom? I expect so.
Vital statistics
Model Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren Roadster
Engine type 5439cc, eight cylinders
Transmission Five-speed automatic
Fuel/CO2 19.5mpg / n/a

Price £350,000
Verdict Strictly for the Monaco set
Rating
Date of release September
The opposition
Model Aston Martin DB9 Volante £118,750
For Looks, sound, aristocratic V12 engine
Against Ride and handling not as good as coupé version
Model Lamborghini Murciélago LP460 £210,000
For Awesome engine, acceleration, presence
Against Not the most practical thing on four wheels
When things in the Middle East finally kick off, George W----- Bush will be able to field
120,000 troops, three carrier battle groups and more than 1,000 planes, including naval F-
18 Hornets and F-14 Tomcats. There will probably be three nuclear submarines on stand-
by, too, as well as countless tanks and Tomahawk cruise missiles.
Now let’s be brutally honest, shall we? A force as big as this would be enough to conquer
Britain or France. Probably both. At the same time. So why use it on Iraq, which has no
navy, an air force that was wiped out by George W-----’s dad and an army that would
much rather be back in Baghdad running the family carpet shop? The problem is, of
course, that Iraq has access to a limitless supply of the Third World’s most fearsome
fighting weapon — the Toyota pick-up truck.
Whenever you tune to the news coverage of some far-flung conflict, the motley army
with its collection of home-made AK-47s is always seen tearing to the front line in a wide
and varied selection of flat-bed Toyotas. It’s the Taliban Tonka toy, the Tamil’s Tiger
tank, and it’s not hard to see why.
One minute it’s a troop transporter and the next it’s a hospital ship. And that’s just the
start. With a tube on the back, it’s a Scud launcher, and with a gun, it’s an armoured
personnel carrier. Fit a conning tower and it could probably pass muster as a hunter-killer
submarine, too.
Furthermore, the Toyota pick-up is a fearsome off-road campaigner. Many years ago, I
drove one extensively around the Arabian desert and though it was old and knackered —
we called it the Millennium Falcon — it really could reach parts of the Middle East that
other beards couldn’t.
For the past decade or so, America’s answer to the multi-skilled Toyota has been the
High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle. Or the HMMWV for short. Not that
HMMWV is particularly short, which is why most people call it the Humvee.
With its wheels spaced far apart so it can run in the tracks left by tanks, it has a 6.5 litre
diesel engine and 16in of ground clearance — double that of any other four-wheel-drive
car.
After the second world war General Patton said victory was due in no small measure to
the Willys Jeep and some said the same of the Humvee after Desert Storm in 1991.
(Though the Iraqi army’s decision to run away might have had something to do with it as
well).
Indeed, back at home, Arnold Schwarzenegger was so enamoured of the Humvee he went
to the makers and insisted they make one for civilian use.
The result was spectacularly bad. Conversation between the driver and a passenger was
impossible, partly because the seats were 5ft apart and partly because in between was that
huge, rattly diesel engine. But also because the driver in question was Schwarzenegger,
whose accent is indecipherable even on a clear, still day.
Then there was the price: $100,000. Not that this put people off. I have a friend in Abu
Dhabi — I won’t give you his name: it starts with His Highness and ends two weeks later
— but I can tell you he bought 20 of the damn things, and then sent one to Germany to be
fitted with an electrically operated soft top.
That cost him another $100,000.
Just last week, we went for a spin in it through his garden and it was fine, scaling 600ft
dunes with consummate ease and flattening those that didn’t measure up. We didn’t even
need to get out to pump the tyres up — it was done by a switch on the dashboard — but
after 20 or so miles on his tarmac drive, my ears were bleeding and my spine was bent.
Off road, fighting wars, it’s a fine tool. But for everyday use, on normal roads, it is about
as much use as a sniper’s rifle.
Today, however, things are different. General Motors has bought the rights to make
civilian Humvees, which are called Hummers, and now the big old military barge has a
road-going little sister. It’s called the H2 and while I was out in the Middle East I thought
it would be a good idea to try one out.
Sadly, GM doesn’t actually sell them out there — too scary perhaps? — but getting one
was easy. I would just hang around the lobby of the hotel and ask the first Arab who
walked by. Crazy plan? Not at all. Asking someone in a dish dash if they’ve got an H2 is
like asking if they’ve got a prayer mat. And being the most hospitable, generous people
I’ve ever met, they were duty bound to ask if I wanted to try it.
So here’s how it went. “Excuse me. Have you got an H2?” “Of course. Would you like to
drive it?” “Yes.”
So there I was with Ahmed Seddiq M Al Mutawaa by my side going for a cruise to Jebel
Ali in one of the most extraordinary cars I’ve ever had the good fortune to try.
It’s based on a normal American 4x4 called the GMC Tahoe, which is very probably the
worst off-road car in the whole of human history. It’s too ugly, too big, too thirsty, too
slow, not well enough equipped and hopeless when it’s presented with snow, mud,
gravel, soil, grass, stone, drizzle or even a light breeze. It doesn’t work on the road either
and when I took one into the desert I ended up coming home on a camel — that’s true,
that is.
Anyway, the H2 has the same basic architecture as the Tahoe, albeit with shorter
overhangs, and the same engine: a 6 litre V8, which, according to Ahmed, does 3.3 miles
to the gallon when taken off road. He’s not bothered because out there petrol is cheaper
than water, and he’s very rich. But I suspect that in Britain 3.3mpg might be
unacceptable.
The size mightn’t work either. It’s shorter than a Range Rover and not so high either. But
to give it that Hummer look, it’s considerably wider. It’s so wide, in fact, that it might
need a police escort on motorways.
Other things? Well, it doesn’t appear to be very well made, and while the top speed is
good — for a boat — the acceleration feels geological, the brakes are poor and the space
inside cramped.
However, I loved it. I loved the look of the thing most of all and I loved the detailing. The
door handles are such as you would find on an old barn, the tow hooks seem to have been
lifted from a Boer war cart, and the gearlever looks exactly like the throttle on an F-15.
It sounds, then, like a triumph for the heart over the head, like style, once again, has
walked all over substance. But dynamically the H2 does do some things well. The ride is
exceptionally good and a quick check of the dash showed that it has all the toys you
might need should things get sticky in the middle of nowhere. The only thing that’s
missing is a centre differential lock.
Inside, you have a choice. If you have the 3ft tall spare wheel in the boot, you get only
one seat back there, but if you mount it on the tailgate, you get two, which adds up to
seating for six — seven at a pinch.
So really then, it can be viewed as a wide, thirsty alternative to the Land Rover Discovery
or the Volvo XC90.
Price? Well, it is for sale in America for $49,000 but don’t bother checking the exchange
rate because for some reason I’ve never been able to fathom — greed, perhaps — the car
industry works on the basis that one dollar equals one pound.
So, by the time you’ve got it here and fitted a few options, you must reckon on the H2
being at least a £50,000 car. You must also reckon that as you drive around people will
think you are Chris Eubank.
But this is a small price to pay for something genuinely different and genuinely
interesting.
I really did like it, a lot. Think of it as a caramel chocolate — a hard outer shell with a
soft chewy centre. Think of it as a nightclub bouncer with a heart of gold.
And that, trust me on this, is the only support America’s military machine will be getting
from me in the next few weeks.
Vital statistics
Model Hummer H2
Engine type V8, 5,967cc
Transmission Four-speed automatic, four-wheel drive with low range
Torque 315/70 17
Fuel 12mpg (approx)
Acceleration 0 to 60mph: 10sec
Top speed 92mph
Dimensions 4825mm length; 2063mm width; 2802mm height;
Price £62,000 (special import)
Verdict Extraordinary machine with unrivalled off-road skills, but try driving one around
England. Not a chance
In a converted sewing-machine factory in the eastern German town of
Altenburg, a recording of a British television show is on a constant
loop. The building is the headquarters of the hypercar maker Gumpert
and the TV show is Top Gear. The video shows the company’s car
lapping the test track with the Stig behind the wheel. And at the
end of the segment, a time flashes up. It reads 1min 17sec.
For those of you unfamiliar with the show, the “power lap” is where
the Top Gear team aims to find the fastest production car in the
world. In the past the Stig has driven the Bugatti Veyron, Pagani
Zonda and Ferrari Enzo, and none of them has posted a time faster
than 1min 17sec. At the Gumpert factory the engineers are hard at
work creating something that might. It is called the Gumpert Apollo
Speed, and I have just driven it.
First a bit of background. The original Apollo didn’t post the

fastest time on the track because it is the fastest car — it is
frighteningly quick, with a top speed in excess of 220mph, but the
Veyron is about 30mph quicker — but because of its brilliant
aerodynamics, which meant it stuck to the road like no other when
cornering.
The new model seems to do away with such aerodynamic chicanery in

favour of out-and-out pace. The reason for this is that while the
huge wing at the rear of the original car kept its back end clamped
to the ground, it also increased drag, hobbling — if that’s the word
— its ultimate pace. Without it, the Speed can apparently hit 62mph
in about 3sec, and though none of the firm’s drivers has yet to
verify it, the car’s top speed is likely to be ‘‘well in excess” of
220mph.
There are a few other refinements too. The Apollo’s eye-popping

looks have been refined and the lower part of its nose tweaked to
improve airflow and reduce the pressure generated at higher speeds.
With the wing gone, the rear end gets a mild restyle, chiefly a new
tail-light treatment and some bodywork modifications, though the
outrageous rear diffuser is unchanged.
The engine has also been tweaked. Its Audi-sourced 4.2-litre V8

engine has been remapped, boosting the power output from 641bhp to
700bhp.
The rest of the car’s spec is equally arresting. Its chassis is

lightweight steel and there are 700 separate components, all of
which have been powder-coated to protect against corrosion. There is
also a carbon-fibre monocoque and a part-carbon, part- aluminium
underbody.
These are all things you’d associate with a Le Mans race car, not a
road-legal supercar, yet the Speed wears regular numberplates.
So how does it drive? To find out, I was taken to the company’s test
track at Leipzig-Altenburg airport, a former Russian military base.
It’s now a civil terminal, which means Gumpert’s development
programme is surreally punctuated by Ryanair flights.
The Speed itself demands a thorough pre-flight check. Access to its

claustrophobic cabin is by way of heavy, gull-wing doors, and though
the steering wheel is detachable, it’s still a squeeze for the
fuller-figured pilot. You can’t adjust the seats because there
aren’t
any: instead, you sit on a padded shell that’s part of the car’s
structure. The pedals and steering wheel both adjust, but the latter
will still be unnervingly close to your chest.
There are various bits of Audi switchgear inside, and Gumpert will
trim the car in leather and Alcantara, according to customer taste
and wallet size. For a low-volume product, it’s a mostly high-
quality experience, let down slightly by the telltale aroma of
adhesive.
In-car entertainment is taken care of by a rather old-school-
looking Pioneer unit, whose sat nav screen doubles as a rear-view
camera.
Forward vision is fine, but the view in any other direction is
negligible.
It’s fair to say that low-speed manoeuvring of any kind is the car’s
Achilles heel.
Push the start button and the Speed burbles into life with an
unexpected politeness. What little noise you hear is dominated by
the whir of the fuel pump and the zizz and hum of various oily bits
vibrating. It’s thrilling and intimidating in equal measure, a
sensation that only increases when you pull away for the first time.
Both clutch and gearshift are unfashionably heavy, and unless you
tweak the fully adjustable traction control, the car fights to get
its power down cleanly.
There’s some turbo lag, so this is a fairly useless low-speed
device.
Squeeze the accelerator, though, then hold your breath, and the
truculence evaporates in a dizzying explosion of power. It gathers
momentum so relentlessly that it’s actually difficult to keep track
of how fast you’re going. We’re doing 130mph in a little over 10sec,
and 175mph not long after that. Sure, a runway may lack the usual
visual reference points, but be under no illusion: the Apollo Speed
is more ballistic missile than car.
Like most powerful mid-engined cars, the Gumpert doesn’t suffer

fools gladly. It prefers you to be precise with your inputs rather
than allowing you to manhandle it. Which is a polite way of saying
that I spun the damn thing the first time I tried to power-slide it.
It actively discourages idiocy, and won’t indulge you if you start
playing the fool. This is about raw speed, flying down the straights
and then wiping off all that speed with one almighty push of the
brakes. Not the biggest range of talents, then, but one hell of a
party trick.
Or, to put it another way: never mind seatbelts; in the Gumpert

Apollo Speed, wings or no wings, it’s still a G-suit you need.
Hot Wheels specs
Engine 4163cc, V8, twin turbo

Transmission Six-speed sequential
Performance 0-62mph: 3sec / Top speed: 220mph-plus
Price £429,000
Road tax band M (£405 a year)
Verdict Wingless wonder

___
Jan Fatthauer is the man behind 9ff, a German tuning company that
specialises in Porsches. For a company so young — it was founded in
2001 — 9ff has quite a reputation. It has created a 1000bhp version
of the Turbo, a 250mph 911 Cabriolet and even its own bespoke
supercar, the GT9R. The company caters for a hardcore crowd for whom
too much is never enough, so it was only a matter of time before
Fatthauer, a mild-mannered German who looks like a school teacher,
turned his socket set to the finely sharpened scalpel that is the
911 GT3 RS.
Among motoring aficionados the Porsche 911 GT3 RS is about as good

as it gets — “it” being the visceral thrill of a car that is built
for racing. Somehow, though, Fatthauer has made it more fearsome, an
achievement akin to making a more aggressive version of a
tyrannosaurus rex. The result is the GTurbo 750 Lightweight. And
scary doesn’t do justice to just how frighteningly fast Fatthauer’s
interpretation of the RS is.
There’s a clue in the name: the 750 relates to 750ps (ps stands for
pferdestärke, the metric measure of power). The brake horsepower
equivalent is 740bhp, compared with 409bhp for the “standard” RS;
that’s more than a Porsche Carrera GT supercar can boast and only
slightly less than a Ferrari FXX — the racetrack special built for
30 of Ferrari’s most loyal, and wealthy, customers.
Before Fatthauer got to work on the ticking bomb under the rear
engine hatch, he put one of the lightest sports cars around on a
diet, fitting carbon-fibre panels for the bonnet and doors and
replacing the glass side windows with thin plastic affairs, before
stripping the interior.
The carpet has gone, along with the centre console, exposing the
gear linkage. The result is a weight loss of 220lb. It looks like a
full-bore race car, with a full roll cage from Porsche Motorsport
and Cobra Evolution race seats. The owner of the Lightweight I
tested wants it for Sunday morning drives. Some hangover cure.
When Fatthauer set about the engine, he stripped the original 3.6-
litre and rebuilt it with titanium pistons. Similarly, most of the
original Porsche parts have had to be upgraded and the engine space
is crammed full of turbos and so much pipework to feed air to the
twin turbos that it looks like the engine room of a warship.
Surprisingly, perhaps, there’s a two-year warranty with the car.
The fruit of Fatthauer’s labours is a version of Porsche’s flat six

that boasts an impressive 626 lb ft of torque and, more importantly,
autobahn acceleration to better practically any supercar. It is
faster than Porsche’s Carrera GT throughout the speed range. Even
the Bugatti Veyron is firmly within its sights. That hits 185mph in
19.8sec, while the GTurbo 750 Lightweight will do it in 20.6sec.
The Bugatti may be faster but it is also a lot more expensive — ¤1m
(£899,700) compared with ¤200,000 (£179,900) for the 9ff. And if you
didn’t want the garish paint job, you could order the car
unblemished, so onlookers remain oblivious of what lies under its
skin.
The problem with an engine that generates 740bhp is keeping all that
power under control. High-performance track tyres wrapped around the
20in wheels help to a degree, as does an upgraded traction control
system from the latest Porsche 911 GT2. Still, Fatthauer explains,
it takes a delicate right foot to keep this car pointing the right
way.
He gives me a demonstration run, proceeding with caution until we

reach the motorway. As we join the autobahn, a gap opens up in the
traffic and before I know it we are not just in another town but
another region of Germany.
I nervously take the wheel, easing it along a well-worn test route

that includes a straight-line blast alongside the runway at Dortmund
airport. To my relief, it’s easy to drive, though I’m barely
tickling the throttle to keep pace with traffic and the aircraft as
they take off.
When the time comes to floor the throttle, the car shimmies as the
electronics try to hold it steady, then, as the tyres find a
foothold, we catapault forward. Mindful of the fact that a
professional rally driver crashed his GTurbo on his first drive at
Belgium’s Spa race circuit, I know I’d be foolish to test its road-
holding abilities on bends on a public road. Judging how much
throttle it can take before it lets go is a case of walking that
fine line between spectacular speed and a spectacular accident.
I tell myself that’s the approach all the world’s greatest racing
drivers adopt and still occasionally get wrong — witness Lewis
Hamilton’s last-lap smash at the Italian Grand Prix. Unfortunately,
I’m no grand prix hotshot and can’t help but feel intimidated by
9ff’s creation.
The noise is stunning: a combination of the wail of the engine and

the whoosh of its two turbochargers forcing more air into the hungry
power unit. Better still are the brakes, Porsche’s carbon ceramic
items, which resist fade no matter how high your speed.
Unlike a supercar, whose performance can be exploited more often

than not, this hypercar is pure overkill, like using a flame thrower
to light a cigarette. That isn’t a criticism, it is pretty much the
point. “More than 550bhp is excessive really,” says Fatthauer. “This
is a car for a different kind of mentality, though. It’s for people
who enjoy taming the power and using it in the right way.” I wish
them the best of luck.
Hot Wheels specs
Engine 3.6-litre twin-turbo flat six
Fuel Not available
Co2 Not available
Top speed 225mph
Price €200,000 (£179,900)
Road tax band M (£405 a year)
Verdict Are you up to the challenge?

So you have a Ferrari Enzo and a pathologically low boredom
threshold.
The 650bhp V12 engine, jet-fighter styling and ballistic performance
just aren’t cutting it any more. You want something a bit different,
but you still quite like the sensational Ferrari mechanicals hidden
under that carbon-fibre body.
Gemballa, a German tuning outfit, reckons you should walk its way.
The company is best known for creating totally over-the-top tuned
Porsches, but its Dubai distributor persuaded it to create this
Enzo-based conversion, and now the plan is to produce 25 more
examples.
However, these won’t be new cars, as the Enzo went out of production
in 2004 with just 400 built. And it remains a phenomenal machine,
with its active aerodynamics, sensational engine and top speed of
217mph.
Gemballa says Enzo owners can bring their cars in for conversion, or
if you want a MIG-U1 but don’t have an Enzo, it will find a very
low-mileage used example for conversion.
The MIG-U1 — named with a nod to Russian fighter planes — features

modified aerodynamics that develop an extra 77lb of downforce at the
front and 187lb at the rear. The car is 3in wider at the front and
4in wider at the rear than the Enzo.
The company has yet to run performance figures on the MIG, but
reckons it’ll be a bit quicker than an Enzo to 150mph, thanks to
engine software and exhaust modifications that boost power to
690bhp. But beyond 150mph all the extra drag created by that
additional aerodynamic downforce will begin to slow the car down —
Gemballa says that the top speed will be lower than the Enzo’s
217mph.
Inside, the MIG-U1 gets the full quilted leather and suede
treatment.
Updates include a touchscreen multimedia system with sat nav, a DVD
player and iPod connection.
Gemballa refuses to say how much it will cost, but given that the
cheapest price I found for an unmolested Enzo in the UK was
£795,000, the MIG-U1 is going to be stratospherically expensive. It
will be a car for the super-rich who care much more about
exclusivity than the peerless motoring heritage that comes with the
standard Ferrari. Your money, your choice.
Gemballa MIG-U1
Engine 5998cc, V12

Acceleration 0-60mph: less than 3.6sec (estimated) Top Speed 200mph
(estimated) Fuel / CO2 12mpg / 545g/km Verdict It looks wild but
Ferrari purists will cringe On sale Gemballa is taking orders now
When the movie Back to the Future came out, there was a whole
generation of guys for whom the DeLorean became the car to own. If
you went to high school in the 1980s, and you turn up today to your
high school reunion in a DeLorean, you are the cool guy.
Particularly when the car’s doors open.
But it’s not just middle-aged dads who get a kick from the car. I
hear that kids are even into it now because the wacky adventure of
Doc Brown and Marty McFly still gets aired regularly. DeLorean goes
much further back than the Eighties. In the Sixties, John DeLorean
was the brains behind the Pontiac GTO and so many other performance
cars at General Motors. I was a teenager when he first made his mark
at GM. He was a brilliant engineer, a performance-minded guy and a
cool guy.
When everyone else had white button-down shirts he wore striped
shirts. He was hip. And he was one of my heroes.
He is best known, though, because he went on to develop the

DeLorean, one of the most controversial cars of all time, which was
built in Belfast. After John DeLorean beat his cocaine rap (I don’t
know how you get off when you are caught accepting bags of the
stuff) I lost interest in him and the gullwing car that carried his
name.
It was not the car’s fault it got a bad name. The car got tarnished
when DeLorean was caught and there were reported deals with the
British government and talk of a swindle. It was a real mess. I
thought the whole thing was a huge shame. I had such faith in him,
and to say he broke my heart is probably too strong, but it was
physically upsetting for me.
The DeLorean car needs no introduction. Not now and not even when it
first went on sale. I remember picking up a copy of Road & Track
magazine and the cover shouted, “It’s here”. I was very excited
about it.
The hype for the DeLorean was huge but the initial reviews of the
car were not glowing. We all knew there would be teething problems
but everyone still thought everything would be okay.
In particular, magazines such as Road & Track said it was

underpowered. It had 130bhp, which seems nothing now, but the smog-
strangled Corvette of the late Seventies had only 165 or so. A
DeLorean weighs 1.2 tonnes, which is pretty light.
That hype meant that in 1981 it was going for a premium and the kind
of money you’d get a Ferrari or Porsche 911 for. But it is no sports
car; more of a grand tourer. It has gullwing doors, a bit like that
famous Mercedes Gullwing of the Fifties. And gullwing doors seemed
to be the future. People went: “Wooooo!” Even the new Mercedes SLS
AMG seems like The Jetsons to people.
The DeLorean certainly looks cool going down the road. It was a
revolutionary car for its time, made from stainless steel, which of
course you clean with a Brillo pad or some such thing. It’s a good-
looking car.
While the body is stainless steel, the chassis is not. It is regular

steel coated with stainless steel, but unfortunately the coating
cracks, allowing corrosion.
Some people thought it was a kit car but it was not. It was made in
a proper factory. To think they built a factory from scratch and
within two years you had cars coming out — that’s amazing. It’s just
that some of the fit and finish made people wonder. There is nothing
so wrong with this car that a few minor fixes would not have taken
care of.
Never mind what kind of car you have, there is always someone who is
dedicated to it. So it is good that a British guy, Stephen Wynne
from Liverpool — just across the Irish Sea from Belfast — has bought
the DeLorean name and is rebuilding cars with all the stock that was
left over when production stopped in 1982.
Because DeLorean was hopeful that the car would succeed, more parts
than he ended up using got made. Like enough for 500 or so more
cars.
So there are tons and tons of spares around to fix up old cars.
The chassis is one thing that Wynne and his team are able to fix up
at their place in Houston, Texas. They can replace up to about 80%
of worn or damaged parts such as wings and body panels. Plus they
are able to improve some parts of the car, such as the wiring.
Amazingly, they are also able to make about two complete cars a
month.
Electrics were an issue. I seem to recall Johnny Carson, the talk-

show host, bought one but the battery died when he was out on the LA
freeway. It was about 100F and he was trapped. He had to get the
police to come free him. That did not help the car — Johnny, one of
the most famous people in America, going on TV and saying he got
trapped.
The car is rear-engined with a Peugeot-Renault-Volvo V6 2.8-litre.

It has a three-speed automatic gearbox or a five-speed manual. I
would go for the five-speed. It would change the whole personality
of the car.
Wynne does a supercharger upgrade that gives just under 200

horsepower, which is what I would go for. The one I am testing,
which belongs to an owner near me in LA, is stock, so that means
130bhp.
The car looks better in reality than in pictures. And it is bigger

than it looks, about 6ft wide, so that’s a wide car. Inside, there
is lots of legroom. John DeLorean was 6ft 4in so it had to fit him.
Visibility is quite good. The dashboard is nicely laid out and it
does not look too dated. It is quite comfortable and has air-con.
There’s even a strap to pull the door down.
A big thing at the time was that the windows went down only so much
but then the McLaren F1 came along and its windows did not go down
much either. So it has become a moot point. The window opens just
enough to get a single hamburger through there, so that’s okay. On
the freeway you just cruise. With the window open there is not much
buffeting.
You can tell its age when you are driving because there is an 85mph
speedometer. When Jimmy Carter was president a law was passed saying
that speedometers could not read more than 85; the thinking being
that if you cannot read more than 85, no one will do more than 85.
You can change that and put in a 140mph speedo.
I would say power is adequate. It is certainly not high-performance.

When you put your foot down, it will go. Once you are rolling, the
acceleration is not bad. But the car needs a throatier exhaust. It
rides nicely — no rattles or bangs. There is not a lot of play in
the steering. But a three-speed automatic box seems like something
from the 1950s. It is not the greatest.
One thing that is weird is the 68:32 weight distribution, so it gets

a little tail-happy. But it’s not a car you are going to slide
around corners with. You don’t want to be hanging your rear end out.
You can drive it swiftly without any problem. It’s fun to drive. You
cannot polish the bodywork. But neither does it rust or dull. It can
be tricky to fix if you get hit — so my advice is, don’t get hit.
Easier said than done because when you’re going down the road
everyone wants to look at it.
The whole DeLorean thing is a fascinating chapter in automotive

history. More than 9,000 were made, mostly left-hand drive, although
there have been some right-hand-drive ones too. The good news is
that I think the DeLorean will be around for a while. The parts
supply is good and for $57,500 (£36,889) you are not going to find
many cars as unusual as this. The souped-up version costs $63,350
(£40,577).
I have even seen DeLoreans for $20,000. For that kind of money it is
unique and everyone has a reaction to it. The car has not gained
much in value so far but I think in the next few years you will
start to see prices get a little nutty, especially if they are
remanufacturing parts that previously let it down.
It is amazing how much my perception of the vehicle was tainted by

John DeLorean. The company did not fall apart because it was a bad
car; it fell apart because of bad management. A lot of people put
their heart and soul into this car in Northern Ireland. A lot of
people got hurt.
The nice thing is that Stephen Wynne and his guys are giving this
car another chance. They are literally making them as good as new.
They go through the whole motor so you get a new motor and a new
car, really.
That’s impressive.
Leno's verdict
The future, back from the past
The Lenometer
DeLorean DMC-12
Engine 2849cc, V6
Transmission Three-speed auto or five-speed manual
Top Speed 135mph
Co2 Not available
Price from $57,500 (£36,889)
Road tax band Not available
On sale now
Top Gear’s back on television tonight with a whole new look, a whole
new base, a whole new feel and lots of new ideas that have never
been seen on television. Well, that was the plan. All through the
winter we were racking our brains and burning the midnight oil as we
thought up new ways to keep BBC2’s most popular car programme fresh
and entertaining.
First things first. We decided to build a studio and track in the

Cotswolds but some local people objected on the basis that our
reasonably priced car would cause “pollution”. So we ditched that
idea. And came up with a new one.
It’s not that we’re small-minded or petty in any way, but we’ve
decided to stage a competition to find Britain’s noisiest car.
There’ll be a number of heats, held every Sunday in the summer in
the very village where people had objected to our plans. How
clever’s that? And to get round the problem of our studio looking a
bit tired and familiar, we got a new one on the same site. This, we
were told, was 50% bigger than the old one, which caused us all to
go down with a nasty dose of what I call Christmas Tree Syndrome.
This manifests itself in men who, when they go out to buy a yuletide
tree, imagine that their house is much bigger than is the case. And
therefore come home with something that’s 14ft too tall. So we
filled our new studio with all kinds of static displays and
decorative items that looked fantastic but, as we discovered in the
pilot, left no room for an audience, which was bad, or cameras,
which was worse. So we took all the flotsam out again and now, guess
what? Our new studio looks pretty much identical to the old one.
So if you tune in tonight, it’ll be the usual diet of cool wall,

news, road tests, bickering and Richard Hammond’s teeth. The only
real difference is that I’m a little more bald and slightly fatter.
Films?
Well, we road test the world’s first convertible people carrier,
which was awful, since we made it ourselves. We see which is faster,
a car or a canoe. And I get to thunder about shouting “power” in the
subject of this morning’s column. A Koenigsegg CCX.
A what? Well put simply a Koenigsegg is a Swedish supercar which,

while crossing America on the Gumball rally, picked up the biggest
speeding ticket ever issued: 242mph. And that was the old, less
powerful model. The CCX is much, much faster.
The company was started by a chap called Christian von Koenigsegg,

who left school with the engineering qualifications of a duck but a
burning desire to be a businessman. So, with a friend, he converted
a room at home, bought a fax machine with his pocket money and
registered a company.
Great, except the company he formed didn’t have anything to

manufacture or sell. The pair soldiered on for a while, staring at
their dormant fax machine until one day Christian discovered the
people of Estonia had nothing to spend their new money on. “Aha,”
thought our young Swede. “This is a job for my fax machine.”
Immediately he decided that what the Estonians wanted more than

anything was chickens. So he faxed a supplier in America and in
months was a Baltic Colonel Sanders. And then he started buying
carrier bags that had been produced with misprints, and selling
those in Estonia too, where Tecso and Adsa were considered every bit
as chic as Cocoa Channel and YLS.
At the age of 22, Christian was a wealthy young man and decided to
indulge a childhood fantasy for supercars — not by buying one but by
getting out the pen and paper and building one.
The engine selected was an Audi V8, but as the car took shape Audi
announced it would not supply any small company with its technology.
So the team found an Italian racing company that made a V12. That
went out of business, which brought Koenigsegg to the Ford V8. Then
the factory burnt down. And all of Christian’s hair fell out. Today
I have more sticking out of my nose than he has on his entire body.
Even so the man soldiered on, bringing his agonisingly beautiful
wife into the company and even employing his father, until in 2000
they launched the CC8. And then the CCR, and now with their own
Swedish-made twin-supercharged 4.7 litre V8, the CCX. This is a very
powerful engine. On normal petrol you get 806bhp. But here’s the
good bit. If you tune it to run on eco-friendly biofuel, you get
more than 900bhp. So what we’re looking at here is a car that’s very
much in the same league as the Bugatti Veyron.
Sort of. It’s not hard to make a 250mph car. You just need lots of
power and a slippery body. But it is hard to keep a 250mph car on
the ground. And stop it. You need to spend a lot of money and time
working on these things.
And while Christian has a few bob, he’s not in the same league as
VW, which went to the ends of the earth when it was developing the
1,001bhp Veyron. This shows. Up past 190mph, the back end of the
Koenigsegg starts to weave and you get the distinct impression that
if you go faster, the weaving will become so severe you’ll be
rolling through the Pearly Gates in a big Swedish fireball.
So you brake. And now the front end starts to weave too. And you’re
making a strange guttural noise that scientists would call the sound
of fear.
Christian apologised and back at his mobile workshop fiddled with

the brake balance, which improved things considerably. But I didn’t
dare head for the 200mph marker again. To be fair, the Top Gear
producer had insisted the car was brought to our track before it was
properly finished. That’s why the computers kept overheating,
causing a monstrous misfire. In a few months these issues will be
addressed.
Hopefully. But even if they aren’t, you’re just left with the
supercar norm. The Ferrari Enzo needs a new clutch after three full-
bore starts. And my Ford GT has not exactly been a paragon of
reliability.
I pushed its starter button yesterday and the only thing that
started was the rear offside indicator. So that’s back at the
menders again.
So what have we got on the Koenigsegg that’s good? Well it’s a very
pretty car, partly because it doesn’t have any wings to keep it on
the ground at 200mph. And thanks to a new liftout roof
panel there’s acres of space inside for the American basketball

players that Christian hopes will form the backbone of his customer
base. It is also tremendously exciting to drive. The noise is hard
to explain. There’s a lot of it, and in some ways it sounds like an
amplified version of that sound you make when you hit the brakes at
193mph. A sort of AAAAAAAARGH.
Then there’s the fire. When you lift off, huge jets of flame shoot
out of the exhaust as unburnt fuel is ignited by the heat of the
pipes. I liked this feature a lot. It’d certainly scare away the
tailgaters.
Not that there’ll be many since this superlight, all carbon-fibre

car goes from 0-60 in a little over 3sec and will, I’m told, hit
250mph.
One thing, though: avoid trying your luck on corners. There’s tons
and tons of grip but when that’s gone you will spin. There is no
middle ground, no chance to solve the problem with a dab of opposite
lock.
Try to be cocky with this car and it’ll kill you.
A lot of the excitement comes from this. Many of today’s supercars

feel a little bit sanitised, a little bit smooth. Even a Pagani
Zonda is as docile and as user friendly as an ageing labrador. The
Koenigsegg is not. It’s a terrier with doberman genes in its teeth.
It’s a supercharged great white, a fearsome beast, a killer, a man
hunter.
There’s a chance, though, that it may be the fastest car to go round

the Top Gear track. You’ll find out tonight. So will I.
From The Sunday Times February 11, 2007
Lexus LS 460 SE-L

When the beeping stops, you may go
Jeremy Clarkson Recommend? (21) There can be no doubt, of course,
that the three-letter acronym was created so that people at work
could save time while talking. If I, for instance, want something in
a medium-sized close-up, I simply ask for an MCU and the cameraman
frames up accordingly.
This, presumably, is why TLAs are so prevalent in the army. In the

heat of battle you can’t very well take up 20 seconds of radio time
calling for something when you only need three for the abbreviation.
“Can someone fetch that sort of portable light-machinegun thingy”
can be changed to “Get the LMG” and all is well.
Unfortunately, army people spend so much time with one another

talking entirely in TLAs that they can’t stop when they’re round at
your house for a plate of FOC. This means you have no idea what
they’re on about.
And to make matters worse, half their acronyms take longer to say
than the words they’ve replaced. The late Douglas Adams once joked
that the nine-syllable www abbreviation was the only TLA that took
longer to say than the words it replaces. But he’d obviously never
talked to an army chap about an IED. This means improvised explosive
device. Which means bomb.
BACKGROUND
Lexus GS430
Lexus GS 450h SE-L
Lexus IS 250
Lexus LS 460 SE-L
Lexus RX300
And then you have ACV, which means armoured combat vehicle. Which
means tank. Or ADW, which means air defence warning. Which means
siren.
Businessmen are similarly guilty. Instead of talking about work in

China (two syllables), they talk about going to the PRC (three). And
what’s more some even refer to the time it takes to get there as
P2P, meaning pillow to pillow, which is just about the most
custardish thing I’ve ever heard.
In other words, people are using three words where one will do,
simply so they can use a TLA and therefore exclude you and me from
their conversation. One chap even went on the Chris Evans radio show
last week and said he was an “iffer”. It turns out this was an IFA,
which is an independent financial adviser, which is a long and
complicated way of saying “thief”.
My least favourite acronym of them all is PLU — people like us.

Anyone who uses this has no connection with me, at all, except for
the brief moment where my fist is connected to their nose.
I’m bringing all this up because I’ve just spent a week driving the
new Lexus LS, which is so full of acronyms I spent most of my time
with it on the verge of a very large crash.
Let me give you an example. There’s a feature in this car that

monitors your progress down the road. If it senses that you’re
straying out of lane it alerts you, not with a worryingly pleasant
vibration in your seat — as happens in the Citroën C6 — but with an
annoying beep.
Of course I knew that it must be possible to turn this feature off,

but which button to press? Tricky that, because each time I looked
down to identify a likely suspect I’d edge towards the white lines a
bit and there’d be another beep.
One button was marked “TCS off”. Could this be it, I wondered, or
might it be some device that detaches the wheels from the car? Hmmm.
Beep. So what about this one down by my right knee marked “AFS off”?
Beep. Damn.
I pushed it tentatively and nothing happened. So with a deep breath

I hit the TCS button, and again nothing happened. Beep. So I pushed
every single one of the car’s several hundred buttons, including two
that said “auto”, until finally I pushed one of the 15 on the
steering wheel, marked “LKA”, and the beeping stopped.
LKA? I presume the L is for lane and the A for alert. But the K?
Khaki? Kind? Kipling? Kuwait? If anyone has any idea do please write
and let me know because I’ve been through the alphabet and nothing
seems to make sense.
I even went to the trouble of delving into the car’s press pack, but
after a page or two I was even more lost. All I can tell you is that
the D4S is combined with VVT-iE and the PCS can activate the VGRS,
the AVS and the VDIM. You’d need to be a brigadier to have the first
idea what the bloody hell all this means.
The boys at Lexus have plainly become so used to speaking in TLAs

that they’ve lost the ability to talk normally. An advert for the
Lexus I read recently said: “If we never came up with an eight-speed
automatic transmission would you have asked for it?”
That’s grammatical nonsense. But I sort of get their drift and the
answer is: “No, because I’ve tried Merc’s seven speeder and that’s
too many, so why would I want eight?”
There’s more. It’s also got a device that looks at your head and
beeps if you fall asleep. It’s got a collision avoidance system like
an Airbus. It’s got a satellite navigation system that tells you if
the road ahead is slippery or blocked, and what it’s blocked by.
Small wonder there are so many acronyms. This has to be the most
advanced piece of consumer electronics ever offered.
And yet, behind the almost impenetrable shield of buttonry beats the
heart of a very satisfying car.
What makes it work so well is that unlike Mercedes, Audi or BMW,

Lexus has no sporting aspirations for the LS at all. Oh, it shifts,
be in no doubt about that, but it is not supposed to be a driver’s
car. And by taking that out of the mix they have been able to
concentrate on making it, above all else, unbelievably comfortable
and quiet.
Really quiet. It may be a 4.6 litre V8 up there under the bonnet,

but at tickover it barely makes a sound. Then there’s the
suspension.
Sadly, it’s made from air, which means it doesn’t work very well in
normal mode, but put it in “comfort” and the leviathan just glides.
The driver’s seat should be singled out for praise too. It’s like
sitting on a sumo wrestler. Couple that to the gearbox, which
changes so smoothly you cannot feel the shifts, and you have a car
that can be compared to the Rolls-Royce Phantom.
Except for the price, of course. At first the starting price of
£57,000 appears to be a lot but a Mercedes S 500 with a similar spec
will cost you about £13,000 more.
There are a few drawbacks, though. Its thirst, for a kick-off, but
also its looks. It is a very handsome car but the styling means you
can’t smoke while driving. No, really. If you crack the window open
a tad in most cars your ash is sucked outside. In the Lexus, it’s
blown back in.
This means you spend quite a lot of your time behind the wheel on
fire, and that means you swerve about quite a lot as you try to put
yourself out. And that means the LKA beeps furiously.
Then there’s the boot lid. You press a button on the key fob and it
opens automatically, at exactly the same speed America is moving
away from Europe. If it’s raining this is extremely annoying.
Hopefully this is an optional extra that you don’t have to have. But
I can’t be sure because it’s almost certainly referred to in the
press pack by a set of initials. LBJ? ACU? DDT? Who knows?
The worst problem, though, is the interior. It’s a bit like an

executive suite at the Hyatt Regency Birmingham. Very comfortable
and graced with lots of features that make your stay more enjoyable.
But it’s all a bit nasty, if you see what I mean — the half-timbered
steering wheel especially.
It sounds as if I don’t like this car and that’s not right. I do. In
the olden days Lexi were bought only by northern businessmen who’d
had a row at the lodge with the local Mercedes dealer. They were
reliable, quiet and comfortable but utterly soulless. This new one,
though, is AFB.
VITAL STATISTICS
Model Lexus LS 460 SE-L
Engine 4608cc, eight cyclinders
Transmission Eight-speed automatic
Fuel 25.4mpg (combined cycle)
CO2 261g/km

Price £71,000
Rating 4/5
Verdict A satisfying drive — if you know your bhp from your BNP
Do you remember when you were growing up and all your friends were
allowed to go on school exchange trips to exotic places like France
and Germany? Well how’s this for progress. We now have an 11-year-
old girl from Tokyo in the spare room.
Now, I’ve been to Japan and it was strange. The bath in my hotel
room was vertical and made from wood, the food was mostly still
alive, there weren’t any chairs, the walls were made from rice, I
was fed by a woman with a completely white face and a shoe size of
minus three, all the bars were full of men in slippers, singing, the
traffic hadn’t moved since 1952 and all you could buy from vending
machines on the streets were cans of drink called Sweat. And soiled
pants.
Once I tried driving from Tokyo to Yokohama but it was impossible

because none of the road signs made any sense. Elsewhere in the
world “centre” is zentrum, or centro or some such derivation, but in
Japan it’s just a meaningless squiggle. Honestly, I would have found
more cultural reference points if I’d gone to Venus.
So after a week I went back to my hotel and spent the rest of the
trip under my bed hiding. And I was 40. So how on earth would an 11-
year-old girl cope over here? To get round the fact that the poor
little thing didn’t speak a single word of English, she was sent
with one of those gadgets that only exists in Star Trek, the mind of
Stephen Hawking, and most Japanese high street electrical stores.
You type a message in Japanese and it speaks the words in a sort of

Daleky Engrish. And the first words it spoke, just five miles from
the airport, were “car sick”. Plainly, after 11 years in a Tokyo
traffic jam, our visitor was unused to travelling at speeds in
excess of 3mph.
She was also confused by her supper on that first night, picking up
a spoon and staring at it in much the same way that a traveller from
the future might pick up and stare at a gramophone record. Plainly
it made no sense. But then neither did any of the foodstuff that had
been placed on her plate.
After just one mouthful of mashed potato she rushed to the loo,
where she vomited, explosively and for a very prolonged period of
time. Not bad, I thought, she’s only been in England two hours and
already she’s been sick twice. I desperately wanted to make sure she
was okay, and not too worried by the beds with legs and the chairs
and how all the trees were more than 6in tall and outside. But it’s
pretty hard when all you can say in Japanese is “hello”, “goodbye”
and “Subaru”.
I couldn’t even use her gadget, partly because all the keys were in
Japanese and partly because it had stopped saying “car sick” and was
now saying “broken”, over and over again.
We’d been told that the whole point of her trip was to provide an
experience of England, but after the spoon episode we did give her
some chopsticks. And then, after watching her use them to wrestle
with a 6in Yorkshire pudding, I’m afraid I relented and drove all
the way to London for some sushi. To be honest, I felt so sorry for
her I’d have gone out and harpooned a whale if that’s what she’d
wanted.
To make matters worse she had arrived with a suitcase full of

presents, all of which were exquisite but completely unfathomable. I
mean, what kind of face are you supposed to pull when you’ve just
been given what looks like a squidgy test tube full of pink and
green sticky tape? It turned out to be a pen that writes a musical
score as you drag the nib across the paper. Honestly, I’d never seen
anything so amazing in my whole life. But then everything’s
relative. She’d never been to a house that had dogs on the inside
and trees on the outside.
It’s said that genetically the human race is defined at one end by
the tribesmen of New Guinea and at the other by the Basques. These,
apparently, are the bookends. But I’m sorry. I reckon the genetic
North Pole is a 6ft 5in Brit and the genetic South Pole an 11-year-
old Japanese schoolgirl.
And that brings me to the new Lexus GS430 I’ve been driving these
past few days.
Like all cars, it has doors, seats, pedals, a steering wheel and
lights at the front and the back. But how can this be, when it comes
from a people who are baffled by a spoon? How do they make something
so instantly recognisable as “a car” when they can’t eat mashed
potato without vomiting? We have knives and forks. They have
chopsticks. We lie down in the bath. They stand up. We cook food.
They don’t. Their culture is completely different from ours, and yet
the Lexus, on the face of it, is just the same as a Jaguar, a
Mercedes or a BMW.
Except it isn’t. It is much, much quieter. At 70mph it’s so silent

you can hear your hair growing. Sitting in your garden after a
lovely lunch is more frantic. In the cabin you are so isolated from
the real world that you get some idea of what it might be like to be
dead.
The six-speed automatic box swaps cogs like an albatross changes

direction, and even if you do put your foot down, the big V8
responds by humming, quietly, like it’s in a church arranging
flowers. Driving this car is like being wrapped up in a duvet and
carried from place to place by a small white cloud.
Only faster. It is far from being a sports car — driving this car
with gusto would be like going into a sword fight armed with a
cushion — but in a straight line, at least, the 4.3 litre engine
delivers the goods. It’d easily hang onto the coat-tails of a
similarly priced BMW 5-series.
But the best thing about this car is the layout of the interior. If
we ignore the spectacularly horrible wooden trim we find a sense of
order and logic that would make Mr Spock look like a swivel-eyed
madman. All the major controls are where you want them to be, and do
what you want them to do, and all the minor controls are hidden away
in a flap by your right knee.
Problems? Well, apart from the wood trim you have to dig deep to
find anything tangible. The boot’s an awkward shape, I suppose, and
there isn’t quite as much space in the back as you might expect. But
neither of these things is a good enough reason for buying something
else. As a long-distance cruiser this car is quite simply
outstanding. Better than a Gulfstream V, and maybe even a rival for
teleporting.
Unfortunately, I didn’t like it at all, partly because it’s about as

attractive as a sponsored town centre roundabout and partly because
Lexuses these days are driven by people who play golf, or people who
like to slap their hos and drive around at night shooting at
business rivals with submachineguns. Gangstas? Golfers? I don’t want
to look like either.
Mostly, though, I don’t like this car because it feels like a

facsimile of the real thing. And that’s hardly surprising because
that’s exactly what it is. A copy. A Mercedes clone.
Cars sit in the Japanese psyche along with spoons and mashed potato.
They don’t come naturally. Oh sure, they can copy a Mercedes and use
it to earn vast lumps of foreign currency, but how do you copy flair
and panache and feel? The simple answer is: you can’t, so you end up
with a completely soulless driving experience.
It’s a bit like those vegetarians who insist on eating hamburgers

that are designed to look, feel and taste like the real thing. But
they’re just not.
Technically, this new Lexus is probably better than a Mercedes, in

the same way that a golden egg made by laser is going to be
technically better than one of Karl Fabergé’s originals. But which
one would you rather have?
VITAL STATISTICS
Model Lexus GS430
Engine V8, 4293cc
Fuel 24.8mpg (combined cycle)
CO2 269g/km
Top speed 155mph
Price £46,755
Verdict A counterfeit car with everything except panache Rating 3/5
Quite often, pink magazines full of advertisements for garden

furniture and Jilly Cooper curtains call my wife to see if she’d
like to become their motoring correspondent. “We’d like you to write
about cars from a female point of view,” they always say.
Right. I see. And what exactly is a woman’s point of view when it

comes to cars. The colour? Whether you break your nails on the door
handles? How much space there is in the boot for babies? Puh-lease.
My wife’s argument on this point is sound. Women who are interested
in cars are excited by exactly the same things that excite men.
Power.
Looks. Handling. And women who aren’t interested in cars won’t read
about them, no matter what shaped genitals the author has.
So she sends off 1,000 words about a Caterham Cosworth, saying that
it ripped her eyeballs out, set her hair on fire and left her with
the same sort of ruddy glow she gets from a really good Terminator
movie.
This, as a general rule, is placed fairly quickly on the editor’s
spike.
If we look back over the years, my wife, a mother of three, has run
a Caterham that she misses dearly, a Lotus Elise 111S that she sent
back for sports exhausts because it wasn’t loud enough, a BMW Z1 and
a motorbike of some kind. Currently she appears to have an Aston
Martin
V8 Vantage.
Ask her about space in the back for kids or whether these things
have convenient handles on which she can hang a handbag and she’ll
shove a hot conrod up your jacksie. She’s not bothered. And it’s an
especially good idea to steer clear of fuel consumption, because if
you bring this up she’ll siphon a gallon from the tank and use it to
burn you alive.
This is why I always give sexism a wide berth when writing about
cars.
Any suggestion that one model is better suited to men, or women, and
I have to spend the rest of the day disentangling myself from the
ironing board. Or begging to be let out of the Aga.
This is no great hardship because of all the “ists” you can call me,
“sex-ist” isn’t one of them. I don’t run for the exits when a pilot
comes on the PA system to say her name’s Sandra, and when a lady
doctor is examining my arthritic hips I’ve never once been tempted
to say, “Oh, and while you’re down there . . .”
However, I am bringing some stereotypes to the table this morning

because I have a question about the Lexus IS 250 SE. Have you ever
seen one being driven by a woman? In fact have you ever seen any
Lexus being driven by a woman? Apart from that girl in Terminator 3
who nicked a 430 convertible — and she was technically a robot — I
haven’t. I’ve seen girls in Evo 8s and Ferraris and Astons. Once I
even saw a girl in a Lamborghini LM002, which caused a faint but
distinct stirring. But never in a Lexulator.
I’m sure that Toyota’s marketing department will be reaching for the
e-mail button right now to send me figures that show x per cent of
Lexees are bought by women, but I bet that if these “female”
customers were examined more carefully, every single one would have
an Adam’s apple.
It’s hard at first to see what makes the Lexus brand as uniquely
male as a Leatherman or a hunter-killer submarine. The IS a pretty
car and we know from every single survey ever undertaken that no
other vehicle on the planet is quite so well made.
Of course there are some things wrong with it. Space in the back is
limited, the seats aren’t overly supportive, the steering is way too
sharp and the door mirrors are the size of barn doors. But since
when did a woman ever complain about a mirror being too large?
Perhaps, then, it’s the rev counter that glows orange as you
approach the red line. “Noooooo” wailed my wife after she came back
from the school run. “I loved that. I made it orange the whole way
home.”
What then? What feature does this car have that makes it so
unappealing for women? My wife couldn’t help. “I just don’t like
it,”
she said.
I did. Oh sure, it’s not the fastest car in the world. In fact it
has about as much power as my second serve. But this is not such a
bad thing because of that super-sharp steering.
If by some miracle you’re going too fast when you turn the wheel,
you had better be awake, because everything can get awfully
skittish, awfully quickly.
Also, the touch screen sat nav system was preposterously

complicated.
But you can solve this, if you’re a woman, by reading the
instruction book.
Me? I was too busy revelling in the quietness of the engine, the
complete absence of wind roar, even around the six-acre door
mirrors, and the well-chosen ride.
It’s never too harsh that it shatters your bones on every speed bump
and it’s never so soft that it flops into the hedgerow on every
bend.
I also loved the sense that every button and every switch will
outlive the sun.
Then there’s the stereo, which has (a lot) more power than the
engine, and the price. Take into account the list of standard
goodies and this car costs not hundreds but thousands of pounds less
than a BMW 3-series. It’s better looking than a 3-series too. In
fact it’s better looking than a Mercedes C-class, an Audi A4 and a
Jaguar X-type.
Obviously, in this sector of the market, I’d take the Alfa Romeo 159
because that has a soul that the Lexus is missing. But if you don’t
want to be plagued with breakdowns, the IS 250 does appear to be a
good bet.
And that brings me back to the original question. Why do you never
see one being driven by a woman? To find an answer we need to get
logical.
Nobody who’s interested in cars, whether they’re a man or a woman,
will buy a Lexus. They’re just not zingy enough.
So they are only for people who are not interested in cars, people
who simply want four reliable wheels and a seat. And this is where
things split. Men are happy to go down the Lexus route whereas women
are not.
To see if I could find out why, I did something unusual. I picked up

the phone and rang a few girls who don’t know one end of a dipstick
from their left cheque book. And all, curiously, said pretty much
the same thing. “A Lexus? Eugh.” “They’re perfectly revolting.”
“They’re for people who play golf.” And best of all: “They’re all
driven by the sort of person I wouldn’t want to know.”
There’s an inescapable conclusion here. Buy a Lexus and you are

demonstrating two things. First that you are a man, and second that
you are not interested in a car’s power or handling. This, it seems,
is not something women find attractive.
Think about this, before you say no to that Alfa.

TG6

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Audi has never been backward in coming forward about the capabilities of its cars – but

Car Audi A4 1.8 TFSI

BMW 3 Series Quality, capability, ho-hum styling

In this business, perception is fast overtaking reality just as surely as style is

Model: Audi A3 Sportback 2.0T FSI Sport

Model: BMW 120i SE, £20,270

Model: Alfa Romeo 156 Sportwagon 2.0 JTS Veloce, £20,180

Verdict: Audi’s first supercar is a first-rate effort

Date of release Summer

Model Aston V8 Vantage £82,800

Model Porsche 911 Carrera 4S £71,980

This’ll shake you, 007

Model Bentley Continental Flying Spur Speed

Model Mercedes-Benz S 65 AMG £149,055

Model BMW 740Li £85,550

Car BMW 335d SE Coupé

Peugeot 407 Coupé

Mercedes-Benz CLK Coupé

Model Mercedes-Benz CLK 500 £46,740

Model Alfa Romeo Brera 3.2 JTS V6 Q4 SV £29,850

Model Mercedes C220 CDI Classic SE, £24,650

Model Audi A4 2.0 TDI SE, £21,950

Model Daihatsu Copen

Daihatsu Materia 1.5

Top speed: 106mph

Acceleration: 0-62 in 10.8 seconds

Average consumption: 39.2mpg

CO2 emissions: 169g/km (green-ish)

One careful owner: Tim Westwood's dad

In the glovebox: your Rolex

On the hi-fi: 50 Cent (27p)

Bound for: Chester-le-Street

Buy it if: you're big in the hood

Marks out of 10: 9

Model Hyundai Santa Fe £20,995

Model Kia Sorento £19,995

To choose a favourite from our entire collection of cars (see www.p1international.com) is

Model Ferrari 550 WSR

Model: Ferrari 612 Scaglietti

Model: Aston Martin DB9 (£103,000).

Model: Mercedes-Benz CL65 AMG (£145,170).

The Challenge Stradale’s handling is equally user-friendly. It rides on specially made,

An amusing detail, no question, but not nearly as hysterical as launch control.

Model Ferrari Challenge Stradale

It is startlingly easy to be overwhelmed by the experience, bamboozled by the volume of

Nor is it even a chandelier-shattering pedigree Italian scream. It sounds more like an

Model Ferrari F430 Spider

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Model Porsche 911 Carrera Cabriolet, £70,090

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Model Ferrari F50, about £200,000 (used)

Top speed: 99mph

Acceleration: 0-62 in 12.9 seconds

Average consumption: 55.4mpg

CO2 emissions: 119g/km

One careful owner: Fiona Phillips

On the stereo: Estelle

In the glovebox: Tic Tacs

Bound for: Milan

Buy it because: it's telling you to

Marks out of 10: 9

Price: from £8,100

It’s a car designed in a laboratory instead of a workshop. I test-drove it — with deep

Will anything similar happen beyond the eco-obsessed US west coast? Is

FUEL 4.5kg hydrogen @ 350 bar

RANGE 225 miles (300 miles with 700bar storage)

TOP SPEED 88mph

PRICE €1m – about £812,000

AVAILABLE 2015 for fleet use

Model Ford Focus 2.0 TDCi Titanium

Engine type 1997cc, four cylinders, turbodiesel

Power/Torque 136bhp @ 4000rpm / 235 lb ft @ 2000rpm

Transmission Six-speed manual

Fuel/CO2 51.3mpg (combined cycle) / 144g/km

Performance 0-62mph: 9.3sec (estimated) / Top speed: 126mph