The name of a new species of Volkswagen has its origins in the tiger and the iguana. With a pairing that would have intrigued Charles Darwin, the Tiguan is a crossbreed that combines the DNA signatures of an estate car, a hatchback and an off road-capable compact SUV.

Designed to bear a clear resemblance to its much bigger brother, the mighty Touareg, the 4MOTION all wheel-drive Tiguan comes late to a sector in which the Toyota RAV4 and Honda CR-V are firmly established. But VW regards that as no bad thing because the Tiguan offers a special off-road version called the Escape. Tiguan engine choice also includes a smooth 1.4litre TSI petrol engine that has a supercharger and turbocharger designed to provide the performance of a 1.8 litre, but with relatively modest economy and CO2 emissions.

VW launched the Tiguan in Budapest, which meant much time spent in traffic jams in the city centre and very slow-moving queues through the suburbs, proving little about the car except that I could appreciate its height (5ft 6in) with very good visibility.

It has a massive dashboard, efficiently shaped seats, a reasonable driving position and a touch-screen navigation system that enjoys practical jokes, such as late instructions and an occasional spurious demand for a U-turn. If this were typical – I suspect it is not – it might be worth considering the optional £500 automatic parking system. The driver just operates the pedals as the car reverses into a space.

Once free of the city, the Tiguan’s capability could be better appreciated. The ride is firm, but comfortable, although some lateral ridges are felt. The car went very quickly and with thorough competence on winding roads, and its 4MOTION system ensured lots of grip through tight corners. In fact, handling is almost Golf-like in the vehicle’s quick responses and predictability. The Tiguan is based on a mix of Golf and Passat chassis technology.

Tried on a very short “angles and dangles” off-road course, the Escape version of the Tiguan, with sump guard, higher bumper and 28-degree angle of approach capability, proved able. S, SE and Sport versions have an 18-degree front end. An “off-road switch” automatically activates support systems, including hill -descent assistant, modified pedal reaction to make the most of torque and electronic differential locks and adapts the ABS for use on loose surfaces and gives hill climb assistance. A low-ratio transmission is not available.

Fitted with the 1.4litre engine, performance is smooth and main-road cruising quiet, but the car (from £19,500) does not feel particularly lively, despite having 148bhp. Zero to 62mph takes 9.6sec and top speed is 119mph, combined fuel consumption 33.6mpg and CO2 emissions 199 g/km. More powerful versions are planned.

About 85 per cent of Tiguans, though, will be bought with a diesel engine. The introductory unit is a 2.0litre with 138bhp and a useful 320Nm of torque from 1,750rpm.

A 168bhp version and 198bhp will be available next year. Transmission for both engines is six-speed manual, with an automatic planned.

Maximum Tiguan trailer weight is up to 2,500kg – a typical Rice trailer with a couple of 16-hands high horses on board.

There is plenty of room for five adults in the Tiguan and Volkswagen describes the interior as having the variability of a van. The rear seat, slightly higher than those in front, is divided 60:40 with a centre section that can also be folded down. The seat can be adjusted longitudinally more than six inches. The seat back is tilt adjustable. Load area with the seat in place is 470 litres, 1,510 litres folded.

The finish of the Tiguan is to a high level, with tougher plastics fitted to areas that might get damaged during typical sport utility vehicle use; sometimes kids bring their active sport into the car.

Safety includes extensive chassis electronics, plenty of airbags and a five-star Euro NCAP rating. An attractive £800 opening panorama roof is on the options list.

The new Tiguan may be more pussycat than tiger and – with its off-road agility – more gecko than iguana, but a VW Cateko or Geckat? Not even on Darwin’s list of possibilities.

Specification

Car Volkswagen Tiguan S TDI
Engine 138bhp 2.0litre four-cylinder common rail turbo-diesel with 320Nm of torque from 1,750rpm to 2,500rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual (automatic coming later)
Fuel consumption 37.7mpg (combined)
CO2 emissions 189g/km
Price From about £20,300
On sale February 2008

Alternatives ToyotaRAV4 Popular, drives well, good performance, Toyota reputation. Honda CR-V Honda engineering, highly competent and . . . Honda engineering. Land Rover Freelander Impressive off road and on, quality, image

Volkswagen might be the biggest selling brand in Europe, but it’s sometimes amazingly slow to give its customers what they want. It took the company seven years to offer the Touran as a riposte to Renault’s 1996 Scénic MPV, for instance, and it’s a staggering 13 years since the appearance of the Toyota RAV4, the compact 4x4 that inspired this Tiguan “baby off roader”.

And there have been heaps of successful offerings from other manufacturers in the meantime, not least Honda with its CR-V, Mitsubishi with its Outlander, and Nissan with the recently launched Qashqai. However, it is the Land Rover Freelander that the Tiguan is aimed at.

One advantage of being late to the party is that you get to see what everyone else is wearing, and if the Tiguan is not the most glamorous or modish of off roaders, it is certainly one of the better thought through.

For a start it comes packed with all the latest whizzy motorist aids that would have drivers of an old Land Rover Defender scratching their heads in bemusement. These include an electronic self-parking system, a rear parking camera, a panoramic sunroof and a particularly flash sat nav and stereo system that can store 30 gigabytes worth of music.

More practical is the fact that the Tiguan can tow 2½ tons, more than any other car in its class and an advantage complemented by a neat, optional pop-out tow hook. Further pleasing details include a steering system that prevents the wheel being wrenched about during serious off-roading, a sat nav system that can work out where you are even if you are off road and a front passenger seat whose backrest folds forward for extra long loads.

Acknowledging that few drivers do in fact go off road with these soft-roaders, VW has devised a version called Escape, specifically intended for the rough and tumble of unasphalted topography.

It has a different front-end design that allows it to mount steeper banks without scraping its bumper, and comes with a more sophisticated battery of electronic off-road aids. These include hill-descent control, pioneered by Land Rover, which brakes the car to crawling speed on steep slippery slopes, and a hill-holder that operates in conjunction with the electronic handbrake so you don’t roll backwards in the boondocks.

The car’s brain also activates a limited slip differential to eliminate wheelspin, alters the antilock brakes’ strategy to suit loose surfaces and reduces the accelerator’s sensitivity – useful over rough stuff. And there’s also a compass.

Yet VW reckons only 5-10% of Tiguan buyers will opt for this version. As with most four-wheel drives, the majority of buyers see these cars as stylish estate cars. They enjoy the high seating position and the feeling of enhanced security it provides, the better view and the protection of all-wheel drive in slippery conditions.

All Tiguans come equipped with permanent four-wheel drive – 4Motion, in VW parlance. Rather than sending most power to the front wheels when moving off, this latest system divides it equally between all four wheels, ensuring maximum traction from rest whatever the weather. Once on the move it will send 90% of the engine’s energy to the front wheels if conditions are clement, this being the more economical arrangement.

And this is the problem for VW. On the one hand it knows there is a market for 4x4s such as this, while on the other it is sensitive to accusations of environmental vandalism. After all, how many mothers need thirsty four-wheel drive for the school run?

To try to counter this image the Tiguan is the first VW to be fitted with the company’s latest, much-needed and more efficient diesel engine. It’s a 2 litre direct injection turbodiesel. As you’d hope, the new 140bhp diesel is considerably quieter than VW’s cacklingly loud old-school diesels, especially at a cruise.

This engine is expected to be the bestseller in the UK, although at its launch next February there will also be a 150bhp 1.4 litre petrol unit. If that sounds unfeasibly small for the task of propelling a moderately stout off-roader, fear not, for this engine is boosted not only with a turbocharger but a supercharger too.

The TSI petrol engine, as it’s called, has already debuted – to mixed reviews – in the VW Golf GT, and is an early example of an engine trend called downsizing that’s sweeping through the car business.

Smaller capacity motors, even when boosted like this, are inherently more economical, improving a car’s consumption and reducing its carbon dioxide emissions. That the Tiguan 1.4 TSI puts out 199g/km – pretty close to the 189g/km achieved by the slower 140bhp diesel – proves the point. These two engines will eventually be joined by two additional petrol units and one more diesel.

The economy of all Tiguans is improved by the standard fitment of a six-speed manual transmission, a component that will see a fair bit of use in the 1.4 TSI, which demands committed gearchanging to get the best of an engine that sometimes struggles slightly, not least when moving from rest. Happily, it’s an otherwise brisk performer, if less relaxed than the 140bhp diesel that makes the better buy.

The Tiguan’s road manners are complemented by its comfortable and classily appointed cabin, which is not only well finished but also exceptionally well laid out. The sat nav screen is sited conveniently high, the instruments and controls are easily understood and the electronic handbrake frees plenty of storage space between the comfortable front seats.

Better still, given this is a family car, is that the back bench is almost equally accommodating, and when slid into its rearmost position provides generous legroom. The seat is split 60:40, is easily dropped (though folding it back requires unexpected effort), and though it doesn’t pack totally flat it nevertheless opens up a substantial load bay. The boot itself is well shaped and reasonably big, even with the back seats pushed fully back.

If all this sounds dourly practical, keen drivers will be pleased to hear the Tiguan turns out to be unexpectedly deft on twisting back roads, rather like Honda’s CR-V.

Body roll doesn’t disturb the equilibrium of either car or occupants, there’s plenty of grip and a surprising resistance to running wide. So while the steering hardly feels like it’s been lifted from a sports car, this off-roader gets about with satisfying athleticism.

It achieves athleticism of a different kind off road, too, tackling steep hills, monsoon drainage ditches and body-tilting earth banks with pleasingly robust insouciance, though its stiff suspension can make the experience rather jostling for occupants. That this is quite often the case on poorly surfaced tarmac roads may turn out to be the Tiguan’s biggest drawback, unless you hold rather unexciting styling against it.

But unostentatious, sober design and a well honed blend of abilities to go with it are what VW specialises in. Factor in a standard of finish that’s usually a cut above – as is the case here – and a pleasing absence of irritating foibles, and you can see why Volkswagens usually sell.

The Tiguan is unlikely to buck that trend, despite the long, long wait. Freelander beware.

Vital statistics

Model VW Tiguan 2.0 TDI SE
Engine type 1995cc, four cylinders
Power/Torque 150bhp @4000rpm /251 lb ft @ 2000rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual
Fuel/CO2 39.2mpg (combined) / 189g/km
Performance 0-62mph: 10.5sec / Top speed: 116mph
Price £21,000 (estimated)
Verdict Sober, well thought through SUV
Rating
Date of release February next year
The opposition Model Honda CR-V 2.2 i-CDTi £21,417
For Practical, comfortable, good to drive Against Odd styling
Model Land Rover Freelander 2.2 TD4 £20,960
For Classy, stylish, excellent to drive
Against Lacks space and versatility

There are various ways to measure how fast a car is. You can quote its top speed, but that’s near enough meaningless as few cars get anywhere near maximum potential on a road. You can quote acceleration times, but these are a poor guide, too: four-wheel-drive cars have a traction advantage over two-wheel-drive cars, so their figures are usually flattering, and the same can be said for those cars with engines behind, rather than in front of, the driver. And it gives no credit to a car’s ability to stop or get around a corner, both vital measures of the total performance package.

This is why the most sensible guide to true performance is a lap time, where acceleration, braking and cornering all contribute. And by this measure, what you’re looking at are the fastest production cars that Ferrari and Porsche, the two most fabled supercar manufacturers, have made.

Around Ferrari’s Fiorano test track, the £172,500 430 Scuderia is faster even than the ultra-exotic, limited numbers Enzo of 2004. Over in Germany, if you flogged the £131,070 Porsche 911 GT2 around the old Nürburgring racetrack, your lap time would be faster than that of what was previously Porsche’s fastest production car, the Carrera GT.

But what is perhaps most extraordinary about these two, and explains their joint appearance on this page, is that their makers decided to introduce them to the press at opposite ends of the same week.

Ferrari went first and lost no time explaining why the 430 Scuderia, while looking little different from the F430 on which it is based, is worth about £40,000 more. Use of hugely expensive lightweight materials such as carbon fibre and titanium has dropped its weight by 220lb while the output of its 4.3 litre V8 motor has risen 20bhp to 510bhp. A paddle-shift gearbox is standard rather than optional (as are carbon ceramic brakes). Were it not for the air-conditioning, airbags and electric windows, you’d think you were looking at a racing car.

And that’s how it drives. Even at idle the V8 sounds brutal, intimidating and utterly thrilling. Drive it quickly and you have to recalibrate your mind before you will come to terms with its capabilities: not only will it hit 62mph in 3.6sec, it will also pull more than 1.5G in braking and through a corner, when most well-sorted road cars do well to hit 1G.

The traction control system uses the same logic as Ferrari’s F1 car, which means instead of lifting the throttle when it detects an impending loss of grip, it keeps the tyres on the edge of adhesion through the curve. You can stamp on the accelerator halfway through a second-gear corner and instead of either cutting the power dead or throwing you into the trees, it will make your passenger think you’re Michael Schumacher.

It’s so awesomely effective on the racetrack, I half expected it to be undriveable on the road, but this is not how it transpires. At the advice of Schumacher, who drove the car during development, Ferrari provides a button that allows you to soften the shock absorbers, so instead of ricocheting off every bump the car simply soaks them up. It is devastatingly effective.

When I spoke to Amedeo Felisa, the boss of Ferrari, he said: “We wanted a car without compromise. If it doesn’t add to the driving experience, it doesn’t go on the car.”

And that is what has been created. Even in the rarefied world of Ferrari, it will always be a niche player because it’s so loud nobody is going to want to do a long distance, but as a track-day weapon it takes some beating.

On paper at least the specifications of the Scuderia and Porsche’s 911 GT2 appear so similar as to have been arranged with prior knowledge. The Porsche has a little more power (530bhp) but that advantage is slightly cancelled out by a fraction more weight, which is why it is a scant 0.1sec slower to 62mph. On the other hand, it will do 204mph, while those poor lambs in their Scuderias will have to settle for a mere 198mph. Both have two seats, both are high performance versions of preexisting models and both can land you in more trouble with the law than you could conceive in less time than you can imagine.

So when I arrived at its launch in Bremen and saw wet roads, I became anxious. One of the ways Porsche has lightened this car over the standard 911 Turbo is to remove its four-wheel-drive hardware, and I didn’t relish the thought of trying to harness something even more powerful than the Scuderia on sopping wet roads.

I need not have worried: despite being the most powerful 911 made, it’s easy to drive. Indeed, if you were blindfolded until you were at the wheel, you’d be forgiven for mistaking it for any other Porsche. Unlike the Scuderia, the GT2 is quiet and more than comfortable enough to drive all day. You can see out of it in all important directions (which is more than I can say for the Ferrari) and when you squeeze the throttle, instead of barking at you like the Scuderia, there’s a gentle whistle as its turbos spool up to speed, followed by a purposeful shove in the back.

It’s only when you mash the pedal to the floor that the car reveals itself to be like no other Porsche built. It is so fast that I was grateful for the deserted and mercifully dry autobahn I was on, since it’s hard to believe the numbers that appear on the dial. Because it has more low-down torque than the Ferrari, its acceleration is even harder to comprehend, a state of befuddlement only augmented by the lack of drama that accompanies it.

Like the Ferrari it has carbon ceramic brakes of pulverising strength, so it would be interesting to find out which was quicker on a track: my guess is that it would be too close to call.

Which to choose? If you had only one car, it’s the Porsche by a mile. You could drive it like a Ford Fiesta through the traffic and forget the potential it packs – it is a practical everyday car. Used in this role, the deliciously deafening Scuderia would drive you to your wits’ end.

But people who can afford cars like this never have just one car. In which case the Ferrari is worth every pound that separates the two: it’s not so much what it does and the way it does it that makes this the most exciting modern supercar I’ve driven – and yes, that includes the Bugatti Veyron.

The Bug may trounce the Scuderia’s performance, but for those whose interests extend beyond the pursuit of power to a realm where the feel of the steering, the sound of the engine and the sheer relentless enthusiasm of the car beneath you are what counts, the Scuderia is preferable by far to the Bugatti, let alone the GT2.

Yes, it’s purely for recreation whereas the Porsche is a useful tool – but it’s also a Ferrari and the most exciting it has produced in the past 20 years at that. In my book, recommendations don’t come much higher than that.

Vital statistics

Model Ferrari 430 Scuderia

Engine type 4308cc, eight cylinders

Power/Torque 510bhp @ 8500rpm / 346 lb ft @ 5250rpm

Transmission Six-speed manual, paddle shift

Fuel/CO2 18mpg (combined) / 360g/km

Performance 0-62mph: 3.6sec / Top speed: 198mph

Price £172,500

Verdict The most exciting supercar on sale

Rating

Date of release Spring 2008

Vital statistics

Model Porsche 911 GT2

Engine type 3600cc, six cylinders

Power/Torque 530bhp @ 6500cc / 510 lb ft @ 2200rpm

Transmission Six-speed manual

Fuel/CO2 22.6mpg (combined) / 298g/km

Performance 0-62mph: 3.7sec / Top speed: 204mph

Price £131,070

Verdict Close but no cigar

Rating

Date of release February 2008

We don’t always recognise it, but cars have faces too. Not in the overt way that Thomas the Tank engine does, but there is a kind of physiognomy to a car’s front.

The grille doubles as mouth and nose, the headlamps are eyes and the whole ensemble of sheet metal, plastic, meshed apertures and lighting can make a car look meek and mild, muscular and macho or cute and cuddly. As with humans, the face can reveal the character inside and indeed, the confidence of the company creating it.

And right now, Audi is feeling very confident. That’s why it introduced the bold, trapezoidal grille and has added another assertive flourish in the shape of a strip of LED lights in the headlamps. The dramatic Audi R8 supercar got them first, and now Audi’s most popular model, the mid-size A4, also flaunts them.

Not all new-generation A4s have this eyeliner-type come-on, but even without it the newcomer fills your rear-view mirror with a look-at-me presence that will quietly thrill many owners.

This bolder A4 complements Audi’s success on many fronts, from repeated wins at Le Mans to rising sales and profitability and the introduction of models in previously untapped markets. Audi is fast becoming a hot brand. But the A4’s ring of confidence is also the result of a complete rework of this long-established challenger to the bestselling BMW 3-series, and its arch rival, the Mercedes C-class.

It may sound obvious, but the new A4 really is new, not only riding on a redesigned chassis but also offering a lot of new hardware. Audi’s top of the range dashboard architecture, in which all controls and gauges are angled towards the driver, now appears in the A4, and a small barrage of fresh technologies has been deployed, ranging from a lane-departure warning system to a power steering system that improves manoeuvrability.

But the A4 is still stuck with a legacy that has prevented it being considered as ultimately sporty as the BMW. Its cars are front-wheel drive (or front-drive adapted to all-wheel drive). This, and a mechanical layout that places the engine forward of the front axle, has given many Audis the balance of a hammer, and a similar willingness to travel dead ahead if thrown. That’s actually an exaggeration – they’re entirely willing to change direction at sensible-to-brisk speeds – but the underlying physics of an arrangement that crams most of the mechanicals up front has created cars that are undeniably less athletic than BMWs.

But now the A4’s mechanicals have been reconfigured to shift weight rearwards, though without giving up the loved front-wheel drive and this has brought stability benefits in slippery conditions. The result is better weight distribution and potentially improved handling and ride.

Which is why it’s a bit of a disappointment to find that the first A4 we sampled, a somewhat slothful 2.7 TDI V6 diesel automatic, didn’t feel particularly deft.

There’s no shortage of go in the pricier 3.2 V6 petrol, whose quattro drivetrain provides reassuring purchase over a hard-charged, twisty road, yet it feels slightly lifeless. Corners are negotiated effortlessly with Audi’s dynamic steering. This reduces the wheel turning needed to round a bend – a feature that’s as useful in town as it is on a country road, although the adjustable shock absorbers confer little benefit.

It took a drive in a cheaper version, the one likely to become the UK bestseller, to make me believe that this really is a better A4.

The 2.0 TDI has a new common-rail diesel engine that is both brisk and civilised, and this allows the rest of the car’s considerable qualities to emerge. Its interior now yields usefully more room in the rear, and an unusually long boot. And the dashboard, strangely reminiscent of classier 1970s cars, is impeccably put together. Most of the controls are relatively easy to use, even if it takes time to understand the daunting clusters of buttons around the gearlever that form the optional infotainment and air-conditioning systems.

But the seats are comfortable and highly adjustable, the Bang & Olufsen stereo is superb, and, bar some wind noise, the aura of quality is reassuring.

In 2.0 TDI guise, or with the excellent new 1.8 turbo petrol, this A4 is slightly more sporting, and a usefully improved, four-star car. But with most of the bigger engines, 3.0 TDI excepted, it’s a three-star machine only.

Vital statistics Audi A4 2.0 TDI S
Engine type 1968cc, four cylinders, turbodiesel
Power/Torque 143bhp @ 4000rpm / 236 lb ft @ 1750rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual
Fuel/CO2 51.4mpg (combined cycle) /144g/km
Performance 0-62mph: 9.4sec / Top speed: 134mph
Price £23,940
Verdict Better made, quiet, comfortable, but bland
Rating
Date of release February 2008

The opposition

Model BMW 320d ES 4dr £24,235
For Subtly sporting, capable all-rounder
Against Cabin less stylish, less roomy

Model Mercedes C 200 CDI Elegance £25,302
For Civilised and accomplished
Against Slightly austere interior, wind noise

This is the moment for which every true Alfa Romeo fanatic on the face of the planet has been waiting at least 15 years.

You see, it was way back in 1992 that Alfa Romeo sold its very last model that could credibly claim to be a true “driver’s car”. Since that time Alfa Romeo has had to survive by adapting the front-wheel-drive platforms of its parent company, Fiat.

While some of the results have been quite quick and satisfying to drive, and most have been pretty good looking too, I can’t say that in all that time I’ve sampled one that I believe drives in the way a true Alfa Romeo should drive.

But now, at last, I have. The Alfa Romeo 8C Competizione is an Alfa that is true to its heritage. Powered by a 4.7 litre V8 motor and clothed in an exquisite carbon fibre bodyshell, it packs a 450bhp punch in as beautiful a body as you’ll see on sale anywhere.

In theory its price will be around £111,000 when sales start in the UK early next year. But in practice the entire run of 500 8Cs sold out long before any prospective owners even seated themselves in one, so the 41 that are headed for British shores (all built with left-hand drive) were snapped up quite a long time ago.

It is Alfa Romeo’s first supercar since before the second world war, and if you think it looks good, its beautiful appearance scarcely compares with the wonderfulness of its sound. Or indeed with its superb performance.

The only real question is whether it’s an Alfa Romeo at all. It was designed by Fiat’s in-house styling centre, and uses a Maserati platform as its basis. The engine is a development of one already in use by Maserati, and just to make matters a little more complex, the whole is assembled by Ferrari.

The gearbox and suspension are also derived from systems used on the Maserati Quattroporte and the car is built, not by Alfa Romeo in Turin, but instead by Maserati in Modena. And when those lucky 41 British buyers need their beautiful new vehicles serviced, they will drive them to Maserati dealerships rather than to Alfa garages.

Few owners are likely to complain about the fact that they paid for an Alfa Romeo but ended up with a Maserati, and when the result appears as good as this, I think they will be all too happy to forgive it for being such a hybrid.

Climb aboard the new Alfa 8C and you’re immediately aware that it feels “just right”. It’s a fairly intangible quality, but it means the cabin makes a Porsche’s interior feel almost dowdy by comparison. And as your eyes rove around, they avidly consume acres of leather, plentiful carbon fibre and generous milled aluminium before settling on the slightly swollen front wings that are visible through the little windscreen. It has to be said that the aroma of leather with the 8C truly reeks of promise.

So you turn on the ignition, press the starter button . . . and wait a surprisingly long time for the big V8 engine to rumble into life. It’s undeniably loud, but cultured and smooth at idle, merely hinting at the untold excitements still to come.

Pull back the right-hand paddle (there is no automatic or stick-shift manual available), gently squeeze the throttle and all those years of waiting just slip away.

This is one car whose looks in no way flatter to deceive. The official on-paper numbers report that the 8C will hit 62mph from rest in just 4.2sec, and I have no trouble believing them. Let loose, the engine emits a feral howl as searing and evocative as the cry of any Ferrari.

The gearshift is not as quick as, say, that of an F430, but it will still swap cogs in 0.2sec – or to put it another way, substantially quicker than you’ll ever manage with a conventional manual gearbox.

Sadly, Alfa’s long-awaited supercar is somewhat less impressive through the corners. Its steering is heavy and a poor communicator of road conditions. Turn off the controlling electronics and push the 8C as hard as its engine suggests you should, and you’ll find a car that’s unwilling to let you balance on the edge of adhesion in the way that a Porsche 911 GT3, an Audi R8 or even an Aston Martin Vantage will.

And while all these cars are substantially cheaper than the Alfa Romeo 8C, I suspect they’d prove no slower from point to point and, rather more importantly, offer the true enthusiast just as much fun.

Does this really matter? For once I’m not sure that it does. I don’t think those who have put their orders in for an 8C are expecting it to be Alfa’s answer to the Porsche 911 or any other rival.

They are spending all that extra money in the hope that it will buy them a car that is unique and, in its own way, more special than anything else that similar money will buy. And because Alfa Romeo has cleverly decided to limit its production (though there will be a further 500 8C convertibles made once coupé production stops in 2009), that is exactly what has been achieved.

But unfortunately, this is a story that has a rather sad sting in its tail. That’s because there will be many lifelong Alfa Romeo devotees out there who will be reading this report, hoping that, although the 8C is unattainable, it nevertheless heralds an entirely new direction for Alfa’s standard production cars. Above all, they will be hoping that the Alfa 159 and the Alfa Brera of the future will be rear-wheel-drive cars, as all the best-driving Alfas always were. But of course, they won’t.

Far from signalling a change of philosophy at one of the most loved and enigmatic of Italian marques, the 8C appears to have nothing whatsoever to do with any other Alfa model being planned for the future.

“It is an industrial matter,” a senior Alfa spokesman told me. “There are no plans to build a mainstream production Alfa Romeo car that has rear-wheel drive.”

Which is a great shame. So for the time being, for those of you who are looking for a great-driving Alfa Romeo that you’re likely to be able to afford, the bad news is that the wait must continue.

And for how long . . . nobody knows.

Vital statistics

Model Alfa Romeo 8C Competizione
Engine type 4691cc, eight cylinders
Power/Torque 450bhp / 354 lb ft
Transmission Six-speed manual with paddle shift
Fuel/CO2 17.9mpg / 377g/km
Performance 0-62mph: 4.2sec
Top speed: 181mph
Price £111,000 approx
Verdict Almost as good as it looks
Rating ****
Date of release Early next year

The opposition

Aston Martin V8 Vantage
£83,000
For Lovely looks and sound, great to drive
Against Not quite as quick as it should be

Porsche 911 GT3
£80,660
For The finest sports car for the money
Against Only two useable seats, quite noisy

I have spent two days bonding with a car. By the end of the second day the relationship had stirred from a cautious, nodding acquaintance to being dangerously close to something like passion – via interest, amusement and healthy respect. The car is Aston Martin’s new DBS.

Aston Martin likes to consider itself very cool, a fact supported by its four decades’ association with James Bond and underlined by the DBS making the cover illustration of a new book called CoolBrands, published by Superbrands. Writing in it, James Aitchison, the managing editor of the World Advertising Research Centre, says that some people may struggle “like frustrated alchemists trying to understand and define what cool is”. Superbrands provides interesting insight into this.

So does the DBS. It may be based on the company’s successful DB9, a pretty chilled out piece of kit, but it is more physically rounded – wider and lower – and it has a “soul” with a “thunder and lightning” persona, as Dr Ulrich Bez, chief executive of Aston Martin, puts it.

It is a car that has a curious effect on the environment. At the beginning of my bonding experience, which took place mainly in bucolic southwest France, I was concerned about how a lightning supercar powered by a 6.0litre, V12 engine producing 510bhp and able to reach 191mph would be received, particularly because the thunder from its twin exhausts (a modest touch, this; I had expected at least four, possibly even eight tailpipes) could probably be heard in Paris.

In fact, it was received with great enthusiasm. From a refuse collector swinging from the back of a truck came a beaming smile and a thumbs-up; from children emerging into the free world at the end of their school day came yells and waves and from an elderly man returning to his Euro hatchback, a look of quiet yearning.

The DBS is that sort of car. It does not have to prove what it can do and does not have to be coarsely overt about its capabilities, although there are one or two jarring elements, including a stainless steel and sapphire ignition key-cum-starter button called an “Emotion Control Unit”. A design anomaly is a chunky gear lever placed too far back. Using it was an elbow-bashing experience involving collisions with a stowage box positioned in a daft place; so consider the auto when it is available. But the positive elements of the car eclipse any quibbles.

The two-seat DBS is 80kg lighter than the 2+2 DB9 with use of lightweight but stiff carbon fibre for front wings, bonnet and boot lid plus some interior trim. Carbon-fibre seats are a no-cost option and are huggingly good. Brakes are carbon ceramic.

A new “intelligent” adaptive damping system provides a fine ride and handling balance, with automatic damper adjustment across five settings. Accelerate hard out of a corner and it allows the car to squirm slightly as it hunkers down and hurls itself forward. It is not a problem, but a firmer “Track” setting is selectable. I found the regular, more compliant setting, which was fine for most situations.

The engine produces 60bhp more than the DB9 and provides the DBS with an inexorable urge; 0-62mph time is 4.3sec. But it is driving the DBS for long distances on challenging roads when the power, flexibility and sound of six litres at work combine to create an unremitting, addictive delight, the V12 providing fine entertainment even when just burbling slowly through a village. Steering is ideally weighted and those huge ceramic brakes are very, very comforting.

The DBS, about 30 per cent physically different from a DB9, is also some 30 per cent more expensive but about £25,000 cheaper than the now discontinued Vanquish. Worth it? Provided that quality and reliability are all that they seem, yes.

And what of that human-machine bonding process? After two days we could have been branded a supercool item, bringing an end to the tortured frustrations of ancient alchemists hunting the elusive formula for cool: mix £160,000 with a vast amount of enthusiasm and it will transform into a DBS. Perhaps.

Warm reaction to a frosty appearance

When Dr Ulrich Bez, the Aston Martin chief executive, arrived for work at his office in Gaydon, Warwickshire, one morning in November last year a silver V8 Roadster caught his eye. It was glistening under a coating of frost in the early morning sunshine and creating a startling colour of opalescent frosty-blue.

Bez rushed into the office, called his design team into the car park and told them: “That’s the colour I want to offer our customers.” After months of research the team came up with Morning Frost and the colour has been trialled on a V8 roadster, a DB9 coupé and a Vanquish. Marek Reichman, the design director, said: “It took more than six months for us to develop the paint and replicate the colour we were looking for, but we’re delighted with the end result, which is proving very popular.”

In fact, Aston Martin has received a number of orders, many from international customers around the world, requesting the special colour.

Specification

Car Aston Martin DBS
Engine 510bhp 6.0litre V12, torque 570Nm at 5,750rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual
Performance 0-62mph 4.3sec, top speed 191mph
Fuel consumption (comb) 17.3mpg
CO2 emissions 388g/km
Price £160,000
On sale Now

Words by David Barzilay

With its big Disney eyes and its squashed baby nose, the Mitsubishi i car just begs to be loved. Even its name, while clearly hoping to borrow a little iPod cool, is a play on the Japanese word “ai”, for love.

Half pet, half motor, it looks as if it’s on day release from Teletubby land. And with its “sense of fun” (the press pack reads like a lonely hearts ad) you just know that here is one of a new breed of motoring good guys.

The battle for ultimate speed and power may belong to Lamborghini and Ferrari, but a whole new frontier of competitive niceness is opening up for the cuddly people.

Drivers who wouldn’t be seen dead in a Toyota Corolla are happily pootling around north London in a petrol-electric Toyota Prius, radiating self-righteousness, while west London is awash with battery-powered G-Wiz quadracycles resplendent in animal-print paint jobs. You may have a Range Rover Sport and a private jet parked out back, but to get in with the in-crowd you also need a little bundle of automotive eco-consciousness to prove your caring, sharing, Noughties credentials.

The i is the latest addition to the do-gooder motoring league and it likes to think of itself as practical, comfortable and stylish too. It is part of the Japanese K-car class of motor; that’s short for kei jidosha – Japanese for light vehicle – and was established in 1949, long before carbon-offsetting and when corn was still made into flakes, not fuel. K-cars were given tax breaks for being small, light and economical, and for using minimal raw materials – a priority in a country with so few natural resources. This is the first to be sold in the UK.

The i has a conventional internal combustion engine but the lightweight (partly aluminium) construction helps give it fuel economy better than 50mpg and CO2 emissions of 114g/km – just 10g/km more than the Prius.

Mitsubishi has produced an urban family car with room for four but with the turning circle of a Smart Fortwo (give or take a few millimetres). The i is shorter than the tiny Toyota Aygo and thinner than almost anything else on the road, even the Smart Fortwo, by about 8cm. It’s so narrow, you can squeeze past a hulking great MPV on a carlined city street, dispensing with the need for frantic eyeballing to check out who will be first to reverse.

But inside, it doesn’t feel small. The roof is higher than in a conventional small hatchback, and the engine, unusually, is mounted towards the rear, allowing for a much longer-than-usual wheelbase. There’s even room for an ample boot – 246 litres – which compares favourably with the handbag-sized luggage hold of a C1.

The interior is cheap and cheerful in the manner of an Ikea flat-pack. It’s far from luxurious, but it just wants to give you a great big hug with its soft curves, dash-mounted tissue holder, hypoallergenic seat fabric and deodorising roof lining, to remove unwanted smells and “volatile organic compounds”.

The i is in its element on crowded city streets, and its strange looks and luminous paint (mine was bright yellow) mean that no other road user can fail to spot its cheeky form.

Just don’t be tempted to take it for a blast on the motorway in a storm. Because it’s then that the cutesy little i car gets ever so slightly scared – its driver even more so. Suddenly the i’s attractive high roofline gives gale-force winds extra bodywork to buffet, and the three-cylinder 659cc 57bhp engine starts to sound like a bathroom extractor fan, with about as much power.

It’s when the going gets tough like this that you start to crave a big, bad motoring behemoth. Skittering along the M11 in torrential rain, thunder rumbling, I was lusting after something a little more butch.

The i has enough quirks to attract attention, but is that enough to win round its target audience of young and funky, green-conscious city dwellers? This Mitsubishi desperately wants to be as cool and distinctive as the new Mini or Smart car. In publicity shots it manages to look edgy and futuristic, but parked on the driveway it just looks a bit odd.

Pensioners, however, seem to like the i, according to early UK market research. It’s cheap (just over £9,000), easy to park, and maybe they’re a little less worried about appearances.

The Prius never won any awards for style, at least not until it appeared alongside owners such as Cameron Diaz. And like the Toyota, the i will soon be exempt from the London congestion charge if Ken Livingstone goes ahead with plans to link the charge to emissions, allowing cars CO2 with emissions under 120g/km free access to the city centre.

It will have to compete for the green pound with a rapidly growing number of low-emissions models from other mainstream manufacturers. Audi recently announced it has cut the CO2 emissions of its A3 1.9 TDI to 119g/km. Volkswagen has launched the Polo Bluemotion, with emissions as low as 99g/km, making it road-tax exempt, and plans to launch Bluemotion variants of all its models to designate the eco-conscious version in each range. Volvo has a similar plan, starting with its C30 Efficiency, Ford has the Focus ECOnetic, and Skoda has its Greenline models.

The i’s trump card might come if Mitsubishi puts the prototype electric version, the i MiEV, into production. This model apparently has a top speed of 81mph, a range of 81-99 miles, and should knock the leopard-print spots off a G-Wiz. Without it, the i could be left behind in the race to go green – especially as it takes 15sec to chug to 62mph and flatlines at 84mph.

Vital statistics

Model Mitsubishi i
Engine type 659cc, three cylinders
Power/Torque 57bhp @ 6000rpm
Transmission Four-speed automatic
Fuel/CO2 54.6mpg (combined) / 114g/km
Performance 84mph/0-62mph: 14.9sec
Price £9,084
Verdict
Rating Practical but too timid for big roads

The opposition

Model Citroën C1 £6,995-£8,825
For Cute, cheap and cheery
Against Bit of a bone-shaker, tiny boot

Model Smart Fortwo £6,900-£15,470
For Distinctive looks, build quality
Against Poor space, high spec is costly

Despite the fact that he died 20 years before Lamborghini was even founded, without Felix Guzman the car you are looking at would certainly not have been called Reventón. At the time of his untimely demise in 1943, Senor Guzman was a renowned bullfighter. Unfortunately he went into the ring one day feeling a little under par. The result was that he met his grisly end on the horns and under the hooves of a bull that failed to read the script. In bullfighting circles, the beast became a legend. Its name was Reventón.

I had to try quite hard not to think of that Reventón as I kept my exclusive appointment with this one. It is the most extreme, exotic and rare road car ever made by Lamborghini and, as a company with one of the greatest reputations in the world for making extreme, exotic and rare cars, that is indeed saying something. Just 21 will be built – the prototype I am to drive and 20 production cars, all of which have been offered to favoured Lamborghini collectors for a cool €1m before local taxes. At current rates, that works out at around £840,000 a pop. All, of course, were sold even before any of the owners’ probably rather well-padded backsides slid past the up-flipped scissor doors and down into the slim alcantara-lined seats.

It is a car unlike any other: rare enough to make the Bugatti Veyron look common, dramatic enough to make anything this side of a frontline fighter plane look bland. And that is no coincidence. When the good folk at Lamborghini decided they were going to build their most ambitious road car in the company’s 44-year history it was to Lockheed Martin’s F-22 Raptor fighter that their attentions turned. They wanted a car that looked like no other ever conceived, one to capture the imagination and remove the breath of those it encounters, like the Lamborghini Miura did when it single-handedly invented the entire supercar genre back in 1966. And they have succeeded.

Like many of you, I have seen pictures of the Reventón before, most from its worldwide debut at the Frankfurt motor show in September, and I thought it looked interesting and attractive. I was wrong. In the flesh it is the most captivating road car I have seen in years, maybe ever. Forget the Alfa 8C, the Ferrari 599 GTB or the aforementioned Veyron. For sheer infarct-inducing presence it is unmatched by any other road car made today. People will look in their mirrors, see one of these approaching and crash their cars trying to get out of its way. Like the Raptor, it looks as if it was designed for full stealth capability. It’s all odd angles and short lines that continue for no great distance before flicking off at some new, crazy tangent. With its matt-finish paint and carbon fibre body it looks like it should have the radar signature of a paper clip.

Disappointingly, however, I am assured this would not give me immunity from the unwelcome attention of the local constabulary, and that as this is the only functioning Reventón on the planet I am to take good care of it. By contrast I’m only concerned it takes good care of me. And this is why.

It is so easy to be carried away by the unrivalled menace of the Reventón’s shape you can forget that deep within lurks a beast every bit as savage and potentially prejudicial to your welfare as its bovine namesake. It is Lamborghini’s most powerful engine ever, a 6.5 litre 650bhp V12 orgy of Italian engineering. This is not an engine derived from one found in an Audi saloon, like the V10 motor in the Gallardo.

Audi may now run Lamborghini and I am sure it had plenty to say about how the Reventón’s powerhouse should be tuned, but this is a pure Lamborghini motor whose origins can be traced back long before any Audi involvement to a time when the company was run by none other than Ferruccio Lamborghini himself. And it is a masterpiece.

To start it, you simply twist the key – no silly button pressing here. And as it fires, something remarkable happens: the hitherto entirely black and blank dashboard turns into what looks for all the world like the instrument panel of the fighter that inspired it. Diodes blink and glimmer, and as you blip the throttle two cantilevered electronic bars rise and fall like the rapidly beating wings of a pterodactyl. It takes a few seconds to work out this is in fact the rev counter, or to be strictly accurate two rev counters. Why two? Because they look cool.

Dead ahead is another readout in the shape of a grid with a little dot at its centre. When you accelerate, it rises; as you press the massive carbon ceramic brakes, so it falls. Aim the car into a corner and it heads off to one side in sympathy. Turns out this is a G-force metre that measures both longitudinal and lateral acceleration. I wouldn’t have been that surprised to discover I was also strapped into an ejector seat. If you are not already thoroughly scared by this stage in the process of acclimatisation with the Reventón there’s a career in the RAF waiting for you.

This car is fabulous to drive: for all its state of the art technology it feels like an old-school supercar of a type Ferrari stopped making when the last of the Testarossas died more than 10 years ago. Its width is as intimidating as its punch – and this is a car that will sling you to 62mph in 3.4sec and reach 211mph. It feels heavy in slow corners, ferocious on even short straights and – on those rare occasions you find enough space to let it do some proper work – addictively wonderful. It is a difficult car to drive well, which only means that when you master it the rewards are all the richer.

Of course you can’t see out of it properly in town, making every junction a heart-in-mouth challenge. It’s impossible to park and the nose is so low that you could easily land yourself with a bill big enough to buy a normal new car just by misjudging a speed bump. But the 20 owners who will have taken delivery of their Reventóns by this time next year will not be concerned by this. They’ll fawn over the fuel filler cap – a solid lump of milled aluminium – and dribble over the single exhaust pipe, big enough to pass the emissions of a small power station. As it is, it pumps out almost half a kilogram of CO2 for every kilometre you travel. Put another way, drive your Reventón to the south of France and back and the atmosphere will be a tonne of CO2 heavier for your efforts. Perhaps it’s best not to think about that too hard. Besides, Reventóns will be so scarce and so treasured you’re unlikely to see one even in the traditional playgrounds of the fabulously rich.

Ten of them are going straight to America where most will be spirited away into private collections, rarely if ever to be seen again, which leaves just 10 more for the rest of the planet. In years to come there’ll be more sightings of Lord Lucan than Reventóns. But the Reventón is not quite as exclusive as it might first appear.

By now you would be forgiven for thinking that, given its price and appearance, this car is a bespoke piece of engineering from end to end. But it’s not. In all important mechanical respects it’s a Murciélago LP640. Chassis, engine, transmission, suspension, brakes – the lot – are carried over straight from Lamborghini’s long serving and ever excellent flagship. The only difference is Reventón engines offer (a rather paltry) 10 extra horsepower. Beyond that, all that’s changed are the bits you can see. And for those Lamborghini is asking over £600,000 more than the £197,460 purchase price of the Murciélago.

Personally I take my hat off to Lamborghini. It has identified 20 customers around the world who will willingly part with the thick end of a million quid for a rebodied version of a car costing a quarter of the price. To those that buy them, the sums involved will be an irrelevance – to Lamborghini they will likely prove useful. Me? I’ve adored the Murciélago since the day I first drove one and while I covet the Reventón even more my love is not so blind it can ignore the fact that I could have a Murciélago (which is just as fast and good to drive), a house, speedboat and helicopter for the price of a Reventón.

To me the price makes no sense at all. Buy a Bugatti Veyron for not a lot more money and you buy a car that is unique in every respect. On the other hand Reventón buyers will have so much money that a million euros, dollars or pounds are such inconsequential sums they could easily have both. And probably have. I don’t doubt that, to them, their exquisite-looking and impossibly rare Reventón will mean more than the money. I know my place and would stick with a modest little Murciélago. And the change, of course.

Vital statistics

Model Lamborghini Reventón
On sale All sold
Engine type 6496cc, 12 cylinders
Power/Torque 650bhp @ 8000rpm / 487 lb ft @ 6000rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual
Fuel/CO2 13.7mpg / 495g/km
Performance 0-62mph: 3.4sec / Top speed: 211mph
Price £840,000 approx
Verdict The only thing more crazy than the car is the price
Rating

The opposition

Model
Bugatti Veyron
£923,000
For The ultimate supercar of this, or any other era
Against Huge weight blunts the driving experience

Model
Lamborghini Murciélago coupé
£197,460
For Great looks, performance, handling, sound
Against Poor outward visibility, poor ride, cheap cabin

There’s a very simple question I am asked more frequently than any other, and despite doing this job for nearly 20 years, I still don’t enjoy answering it. What happens is the manufacturer whose new car is to be tested flies you off to a nice part of the world (in this case Barcelona), puts you up in a posh hotel, feeds you excellent food and wine and then, just when its executives are expecting you to feel in their debt, they pop the question: “So, did you like our car?”

If you don’t like it, the situation becomes rather awkward, and they know this. They hope simple manners will force you to say yes. And once you’ve uttered that word, you’re either forced to contradict yourself in print or end up being kinder to a feeble product than it deserves.

With this new Chrysler Grand Voyager, I could see the question looming large from the moment I climbed up into its colossal cabin, fired up its diesel engine and lumbered off for the hills.

Just as its sister company, Jeep, was responsible for the first SUV, so the Chrysler Voyager was the car that gave the MPV to the world, beating even the Renault Espace into production, back in 1983. Since then it has grown and grown so that now not only has it been renamed the Grand Voyager, it is also longer than a Mercedes S-class. And provided you don’t make the mistake of driving it anywhere, it’s really rather wonderful.

There’s so much room in here, seven people can sprawl about extravagantly, yet there’s still enough space behind the third row of seats to carry enough tents to put an entire campsite under canvas. It’s well equipped in standard specification and if you’re prepared to splurge on the options list, there’s an almost unlimited quantity of goodies you can have. These will keep your passengers amused for hours – even if you, the poor sod who has paid for and drives the thing – are likely to have lost the will to live before reaching the end of your street.

You can have a dual DVD player so one of your children can watch a film while another plays games, and there’s a 20GB hard drive that will store 1,600 songs, and wireless infrared headphones so you can listen to your music undisturbed by what anyone else is doing. But my favourite optional feature is the second row of seats that turn to face those in the third row. A table pops up between them so your passengers can have a wonderful time playing board games or having lunch while you sit up front ferrying them rather slowly towards your destination.

And so to the driving. If I tell you the engine is a close relative of that used by London taxis, you’ll perhaps see where the problems start. Chrysler won’t release any performance figures for this car and, frankly, nor would I. By using a stopwatch and doing nothing more scientific than planting my foot on the floor, I timed it very informally at around 14sec to 60mph, which is tragically slow. Worse, the automatic gearbox may have six speeds but is so unresponsive and unwilling to kick down, it feels slower even than this.

That’s not the only problem. The engine is clattery and unrefined, even at the modest speeds at which the Grand Voyager can be persuaded to cruise. And while Chrysler’s engineers seem pleased with the new suspension they designed for the car, its handling is vague and ponderous.

But does any of this matter? Is anyone who is thinking of buying a Grand Voyager actually going to care that it’s about as much fun as clearing security at Heathrow? I think they will. Anyone who has driven a Ford Galaxy – a car Chrysler fails to mention in its list of rivals for this Voyager – will know the need to provide space and seats for a large family no longer requires the abandonment of driving enjoyment. Yes, the Grand Voyager can swallow all the people and possessions you could possibly want to throw through its electrically sliding doors. The only problem is that once they’re in, you’re not going to want to take them anywhere.

The question, when it came, was posed by Chris Alaniz, the Grand Voyager’s chief engineer: “So, Andrew, did you enjoy driving our car?” The answer came all too easily. Not really.

Vital statistics

Model Chrysler Grand Voyager 2.8 CRD LX
Engine type 2768cc, four cylinders, turbodiesel
Power/Torque 163bhp @ 3800rpm / 266 lb ft @ 1600rpm
Transmission Six-speed automatic
Fuel/CO2 30.4mpg / 247g/km
Performance 0-60mph: 14sec (est) / Top speed:112mph (est)
Price £25,995
Verdict Size really isn’t everything
Date of release February 2008

The opposition
Model
Renault Grand Espace dCi 175
£26,050
For Spacious, clever interior, good ride
Against Looks a little odd, quite expensive

Model
Ford Galaxy 2.0 TDCi Ghia £23,995
For Fantastic to drive, good value for money
Against No sliding side doors, not very spacious

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

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

Price £18,295

Verdict The very best car in the family hatchback business

Rating

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

It was 1959. I was out riding my bike near my boyhood home in Massachusetts. As I came over the top of a big, steep hill I saw something that struck me like never before. I saw what was the fastest car of its time: a gunmetal Jaguar XK120 with spats over the rear wheels. The owner saw I was looking at the car and called me over. This was a time before any middle-aged man beckoning to a nine-year-old boy would have been classed as a paedophile. He even let me sit in the car. It had an oxblood interior and had that fabulous smell of hide food. I love that smell to this day. That was a big deal. The Plymouth Belvedere we had as our family car smelt only of Detroit plastic, not English leather.

Those were great years for British engineering. The Vincent Black Shadow was the fastest motorbike in the world, the Bentley Continental was the fastest saloon and the XK was the fastest production car in the world. It’s not a surprise that my passion for cars came from that Jaguar.

I had a physical attraction to the XK120. So, when I was able, I bought not one but two. Both are 1954. One is a roadster in old English white. The other is a blue fixed-head. To me they are two of the most perfectly formed cars ever made. Washing a Jaguar is like giving a woman a bath. Your hands end up going to interesting places.

In the 1950s the British may have been the speed kings, but the cars were not perfect. A friend of mine who worked in a Jaguar dealership tells me the brakes on the saloon were atrocious. He notified the factory, and on the next batch they had fitted a light to the dash. When that lit up, the driver knew he had to pump the brake again. That sense of questionable build quality got worse over the next few decades. Those who loved Jaguars for Queen and country would have bought them regardless. The design always remained their strong point, but their reliability ate at their sales decade after decade. Lyndon Johnson said that, in political terms, a handshake is worth 250 votes. In the car world, bad word of mouth can be worth 10,000 votes.

Jaguar has not made money for 30 years and so I guess it is no surprise Ford is now keen to sell the Leaping Cat. The trouble is, it is doing so just as the brand is turning the corner.

The XKR is a gorgeous machine, a car up there with the likes of the Bentley Continental GT. The XJ is still a good-looking and accomplished car but over here is too highly priced. I drove one a while back. It was $108,000 (£53,000), for goodness’ sake. That, plus retro styling, meant it did not appeal to younger buyers. As General Motors said, you can sell a young man’s car to an old man but not the other way round.

Jaguar has always been about value. An Aston Martin always offered the same technology but at twice the price. So when I heard that the new XF, which I saw for the first time last week, was $63,000 (£31,000) for the supercharged version, I was amazed. At that price it’s £25,000 cheaper here than in Britain, so expect a wave of private imports. I had reckoned on $80,000-$85,000. But that’s good news. If this is to be the car to save the brand, it needs to fly off the shelves.

To put it among its brethren, for the first look at the new Jag, we brought the XF into my garage and parked it by my XK120s and a special E-type I have. Right away it looked at home.

The shiny grille is beautiful. The haunches are muscular but sculpted. The car sits beautifully on those massive 20in wheels. The arc of the roofline is stunning and is not something that a computer could have done. You can tell that Ian Callum hand-draws his cars first, then turns them into clays, before the computer takes over.

It is a work of art. You try it. It’s a hard thing to do. There is nothing I like more than sitting and just enjoying the art of a beautiful car. I think Jaguar dealers should make sofas and a glass of wine available to new customers so they can enjoy the lines of the XF. I’m not a four-door guy but this saloon has some of the best lines of any four-door I have seen.

It’s not just the shape of the car that’s appealing. It’s the fact that it is made as a Jaguar should be made. The shut lines between the panels are consistent. No filling them up with rubber to hide the gaps, as would have been the case in the past.

Americans are not aware that Jaguar did well in the JD Power quality survey recently. When told, people say, “Yeah, right.” That shows how long it takes for people’s perception to change. The fact is, Jaguar seems now to be making cars as well as Lexus or BMW. The world just does not know it.

I love the bow to the A-pillar and the solidity of the C-pillar at the back. They hold up the beautiful arc-shaped roof with a sense of power and poise. The bonnet has a fabulous sculpted bulge that feels as if it should be there, not as if it has been added by a hot-rod shop as an afterthought.

Other things I like about the exterior are those wheels. They sit so well in the wheel wells. It is easy to make a car look out of proportion, but when it works it is wonderful.

The face of the car is friendly but also slightly menacing. The nose of a Jaguar has always been an important feature, from the SS up to now. The XKE, or E-type, has one of the most distinguishable noses of any car made. And at the other end, I think Callum has made a perfect rear. I remember him saying that Kate Winslet’s curvaceous lines had been an inspiration in the past. I even asked her about it on the Tonight Show. I think he must have been thinking about her when designing the XF too.

Digressing for a moment, I hear that two Indian companies are in the running to buy Jaguar. One is Tata. I guess that instead of complimenting a lady on her rather nice Jaguar you’ll compliment her on her nice Tatas.

Inside the XF, the feel is hi-tech English gentleman’s study. The wood quotient is minimal for a Jaguar. Instead, the stitched leather and brushed aluminium add a sense of space race to London club. The dials remind me of one of my favourite mechanical watches. The instrument screen sits naturally in the dash instead of popping up like an electronic jack-in-the-box. The controls and toggles are solid and well fettled. The sense that the interior has been taken from the Ford parts bin is long gone. I like the fact the interior has been created from scratch, not based on a previous design. The interior alone will bring the demographic down 15 years.

I am not a car audiophile. I prefer to listen to the sound of a car like this with its fabulous supercharger whine. But Jaguar has worked with Bowers & Wilkins, a high-end British audio brand, to fit a good sound system that is iPod and iPhone compatible.

Forget Austin Powers and his Shaguar. The XF is definitely more 007. As you fire her up, the air vents swivel skywards and a Union Jack appears on the screen.

You expect a voice to say, “Good Morning, Mr Bond.” In an era when all cars are more and more similar, I like a sense of theatre. Starting it up makes driving the XF an event. With more than 400bhp, the supercharged version is a beast to make the BMW M5 take a peek in the rear-view mirror. In fact, if you blindfolded the driver (never a good idea), they’d probably say they were in a high-end German saloon. That’s a good thing.

On the rough freeways of Los Angeles, the ride is excellent. It takes the punches of the potholes but is still firm enough to allow you to feel in touch with the surface.

The steering is precise, the steering wheel is perfectly weighted and the driving position gives great vision. Only when you come up behind other saloons do you realise how low this car is. The sports heritage has not gone away.

For a proper test of its handling and performance we head into the Malibu hills. The roads up here attract more Ducati and Yamaha riders than sports saloon drivers. But the appearance of the XF gets even the bikers excited. “Is that the new BMW?” asks one, before correcting himself when he sees the Jaguar badge. “Wow, that’s cool. Beautiful.”

On the switchback mountain roads the XF has superb poise. I look at the speedo and see we are at almost 90mph between the curves. It sits well on those huge Pirellis and takes the bends and the bumps with aplomb.

I have it in track mode, which gives the back end some freedom but with a safety net of traction control in case my skills are outdone by the highway. But there is no squeaking, no scuttle shake, no flexing of the chassis. It is taut and poised regardless of what I throw at it. The light touch is the way to go. Grab it like a teenager holding on for dear life at a dance, and it is not as happy.

So, is this the car to save Jaguar? I’d say yes. It is perhaps the best-made Jaguar ever, and its looks will keep it young for a while. This is not some 50-year-old lady with a tummy tuck, boob job and Botox. It’s a clean sheet of paper.

The bottom line is, people want Jaguar to succeed. If they make cars as good as Lexuses or BMWs, they will sell well. No one wants Jaguar to go away. For many people, there is an emotional attachment to Jaguar. That’s certainly the case for me. Jaguar got me into this game. I want the company to succeed, and I’d hate the XF to be the last new Jaguar I ever drove.

Vital statistics

Model Jaguar XF SV8

Engine 4196cc, eight cylinders

Power 416bhp @ 6250rpm

Torque 413 lb ft @ 3500rpm

Transmission Six-speed automatic

Fuel 22.4mpg (combined cycle)

CO2 299g/km

Acceleration 0-60mph: 5.1sec

Top speed 155mph (limited)

UK price £54,900

Rating

Verdict As good as Germans but prettier

You’ve heard the stories: Jaguar’s in such a bad state it can’t even sell itself. Over the past few weeks it has been portrayed as a multi-billion-dollar albatross around the neck of Ford, lacking in leadership and ideas, not to mention product tuned to the 21st-century public.

Well here’s another Jaguar story, and for once the news is good. You’ll be reading a lot about this new XKR over the next few weeks so you’d better get used to “best Jag since the E-type” headlines. This doesn’t interest me at all. What does excite me is that within 10 miles at the wheel I suspected this Jaguar was not simply more charming than its rivals from BMW and Mercedes, it was plain better, too. Now, several hundred miles down the road, I’ m convinced. And that is a story worth telling.

With 420bhp from its supercharged V8 motor it is not only 20bhp more powerful than the old XKR, it is also 80kg lighter (100kg if you order the convertible). That’s enough to knock its 0-60mph time below the 5sec mark, where performance moves from fearsome to feral. When I drove the standard 300bhp XK at the beginning of the year it didn’t feel underpowered, but the XKR adds 120bhp to its output. Just as importantly, the XKR has been seriously stiffened to cope with the extra performance.

It turned out to be one of those cars I had the deepest difficulty getting out of. I only had it for three days but still put an impolite number of miles on its clock. Trip to London? That’ll be the Jaguar. Long day in the office and need to clear the head on some mountain roads? XKR keys, please. Got to take the recycling to the tip? What’s wrong with two journeys?

Actually, even I couldn’t quite make sense of taking the XKR to the rubbish dump twice, but in every other environment it provided a near perfect blend of point-to-point efficiency and character, perhaps the two most important traits for any true GT. Most of the time its supercharger is effectively bypassed so the car behaves much as would an XK, but when you demand an instant slug of power, where the XK feels swift and sharp the XKR is little short of savage.

Nor has its long-distance demeanour been spoilt by its stiffer springs and reprogrammed electronic dampers. The ride is firmer than that of the XK, but a hard ride need not mean a harsh ride: if your suspension people know their stuff it can actually improve comfort by giving better control of vertical and lateral movements. This is still a car you could drive all night and emerge from more interested in breakfast than bed.

The XKR shows that whatever the trouble at the top, Jaguar still has enough engineering talent to make up in clear thinking and inspired design what the company lacks in cash. And at least the bits that aren’t so good — the tacked-on rear spoiler, naff “R” logos, telescopic aerial and the quality of some interior fittings — are all cosmetic.

Early indications are that Jaguar is going to struggle to build enough XKRs to meet demand, a sign the brand has not yet been damaged beyond repair. And it has been announced that the XKR will race at international level next year, which should bring tears to the eyes of everyone who can remember Jaguar’s C-type, D-type, XJR9, not to mention the XJ13 on page 4-5. A return to Le Mans is not out of the question.

But we should not get too far ahead of ourselves. Jaguar will make money from its XKs but nothing like enough to staunch the haemorrhage of cash leaking from its less successful models. The future depends on 2008’s successor to the lovely but unloved S-type and a desperately needed radical facelift of the staid-looking XJ saloon. At last week’s Paris Motor Show Jaguar executives were chatting excitedly about these cars and even, in the future, an ultra-sporting Porsche Boxster and Cayman rival — the oft-mooted F-type.

If these cars can be delivered and the X-type ditched, and if they build on the standards seen in the XK and XKR, there’s not only a future out there for Jaguar, it could be a bright one, too.

THE OPPOSITION

Model BMW 650i Sport £54,870
For Affordable by these standards, room in back, handling
Against Odd looks, characterless to drive, and it's got iDrive

Model Mercedes SZL 500 £75,925
For Coupé and a convertible in one, strong engine, looks
Against Two swats only, ageing interior, limited boot space

Click here for more on Porsche

There is a vital piece of equipment missing from this £79,540 Porsche 911 GT3, and without it I’m not sure the car is safe to use on the public highway.

It’s a hand that pops out of the steering wheel the moment you start driving like an idiot, and slaps you sharply across the face. It wouldn’t cost any more than traction control to engineer and, believe me, it would be a far more effective safety feature.

I’m trying to put my finger on exactly what it is about the GT3 that makes little red horns break through your scalp every time your backside hits its rock-hard bucket seat, but driving it slowly just doesn’t seem to be possible.

It’s not just its raw power; every Ferrari made today is substantially more powerful than this, yet I don’t feel the smallest desire to drive them fast in less than ideal conditions. But I couldn’t resist the temptation the GT3 put my way, despite weather that made the roads more suitable for a powerboat than a fast car.

I think I may have the answer. What makes the GT3 unique among Porsches and extremely rare among all cars is its ability to double your pulse rate. You might believe the same could be said of all cars bearing the shield of Stuttgart, but sadly this isn’t so.

You only have to look at the way most Porsches are driven to know that driving has nothing to do with it: they are bought because their owners believe a Porsche will make their friends and colleagues think more highly of them.

But these people would never buy a GT3 anyway, not when they could have a 911 Targa 4S with a nice big sunroof and comfortably safe four-wheel drive for similar money. They would hate the GT3 for its stiff ride and thin seats, its bloodhound propensity for following road cambers, and its truly challenging wet-weather handling. And if they ever had it demonstrated to them what it could really do on the right road (or, preferably, track), they’d probably wet the road themselves.

This is because the GT3 is a thinly disguised racing car. Its origins are so rooted in the track that Porsche will supply your GT3 ready to race with a roll cage, a six-point race harness, a battery master switch and a fire extinguisher for no cost other than the deletion of two thorax bags and the door bins. Then, at least in theory, there would be nothing to stop you slapping some numbers on the side and entering it in any race for which it was eligible.

What’s particularly interesting is that while most racing cars are horrid to drive on the road, this one’s reasonably well behaved, at least until you push it harder than it cares to go. I drove it in heavy rain on part-flooded roads, and despite it wearing Michelins that appeared to have more in common with the slicks on Fernando Alonso’s Formula One car than anything you’d connect with road use, it was easy to contain — until I turned off the traction control.

Then, the entertainment on offer was of the decidedly adult variety. It’s not that it will throw you off the road with no warning, but if the tail does start to slide wide on a sodden surface, you’d better be ready. If you’re not quick and accurate with your correction, you will be riding home in a recovery truck with a somewhat dented ego.

I elected not to push my luck: this is the only functioning GT3 that Porsche has at its disposal, and the idea of ringing up the chap who’d booked it next and telling a Mr J Clarkson that he can collect the car from a hedge somewhere outside Swindon just didn’t appeal to me.

Besides, the GT3 is just as enjoyable to drive in a straight line as it is through the bends.

Because it is extremely light — absurdly, it weighs a smidgeon under 40kg more than a Peugeot 207 GT hot hatch — and because the 3.6 litre 415bhp engine sits right over the back wheels, it explodes away from rest, even in the wettest conditions. Despite a slow and frankly disappointing gearchange, it still needs a mere 4.3sec to hit 62mph, and the same amount of time again to take you to the very threshold of 100mph. If you’re interested, it will carry you on to a stirring 193mph.

More impressive still is the quality of its performance. The engine is the greatest one used in any Porsche today, including that in the more powerful, but softer, road-oriented Turbo. It’s engaging and responsive below 4000rpm, whereupon the exhaust note appears to drop an octave and double in volume — which is all the warning you get before you’re slammed violently into the backrest of your seat.

With shorter, closer gearing its acceleration would be even more visceral, but even with the ratios as they are, the first time you change gear at 8400rpm the memory of it will live with you for ever.

It is just as well that the GT3 is such an uncompromising sports car, because it would make a useless tourer. Not only have the rear seats been removed to save weight, but it has a 90-litre fuel tank instead of the usual 64-litre item — just in case you want to do some serious long-distance racing in it. This means its boot is little more than half the size of a Fiat Panda’s.

And those of you thinking that £79,540 doesn’t sound like so much to pay for a landmark Porsche, remember that the base-model GT3 is pared to the bone. If it were my GT3 I’d also want carbon-ceramic brake discs (£5,800), carbon-fibre seats (£3,130) and navigation (£1,921), which would bring the total to a painful £90,391. And that’s being restrained.

But I reckon it would be worth it. In this world, where reality is less valued than perception, it’s a rare treat to find a truly honest car. If it looks like a hard-driving, sharp-focus, no-prisoners kind of car, that’s because it is precisely that.

Put it this way: there isn’t another Porsche on sale that I’ve driven and would rather have. But then again, I am only partly unhinged. For those who are complete strangers to common sense, there’s always the even more extreme GT3 RS. This model is lighter to the tune of 20kg, quicker to 62mph by 0.1sec, and some £14,740 more expensive.

Sitting here, it’s hard to see the point of it, but then I’ve not yet driven the car. I’ll let you know next year.

VITAL STATISTICS

Model Porsche 911 GT3

Engine type 3600cc, six cylinders

Power/Torque 415bhp @ 7600rpm / 298 lb ft @ 5500rpm

Transmission Six-speed manual

Fuel/CO2 22.1mpg (combined cycle) / 307g/km

Performance 0-62mph: 4.3sec / Top speed: 193mph

Price £79,540

Verdict Reminds you what it’s like to be alive

Rating Five stars

Date of release Out now

THE OPPOSITION

Model BMW M6 coupé £81,760

For Magnificent V10 engine, spacious in back and boot

Against Relatively expensive, ugly, handling only reasonable

Model Ferrari F430 coupé £122,775

For Superb performance, handles well, image

Against Looks odd from some angles, messy interior

Would you be so silly as to buy a car without driving it? If you looked at the specification of the new Mazda3 MPS, you just might. On paper it doesn’t matter whether you compare it with the VW Golf GTI, Vauxhall Astra VXR, Ford Focus ST-2 or Mégane RenaultSport 225; it beats them all for power, acceleration and speed. Unlike the Ford and VW it doesn’t cost extra for five doors and, at £18,995, it is the cheapest, too. Case closed, then.

Er, not quite. Rarely can such raw data give more than a guide to a car’s abilities — indeed they often serve to obscure more important qualities such as ride, handling and enjoyment. Such is the case here.

Admittedly this is the fastest of the Golf-class fast hatches. Powered by a turbocharged 2.3 litre four-cylinder motor it attempts to direct 256bhp to the road through the front wheels.

Now I’m going to mention torque, and before your eyes glaze over and you remind me this is not Autocar, it is important. When you accelerate it is torque, not power, that you feel. And the problem with torque when it’s directed through the front wheels is that it tends to have undesirable effects on the steering.

Most manufacturers shy away from creating front-drive cars with much more than 200 lb ft of torque. Take the VW Golf: in GTI form it has 207 lb ft of torque and front-wheel drive, but when you upgrade to the R32 model with 236 lb ft of torque, VW uprates the car to four-wheel drive, so the maximum torque each wheel needs to handle is in effect halved. The Mazda3 MPS has 280 lb ft of torque, every last bit of which has to go through the front wheels.

It’s too much. For while this is a stunningly fast car (it’s 0-62mph time of 6.1sec may sound quick but it would be at least 0.5sec quicker if it were rear or four-wheel drive), it is not a particularly fun car. And this is why: the only reason for buying a car like this is to make the most of its performance, but it won’t let you.

Put your foot down and as the acceleration builds so does the side-to-side tugging at the steering. If you persevere and if the road is at all damp (as it was during my week with the car), the front wheels will soon lose traction in first, second and occasionally even third gear, despite the fitment of a limited slip differential designed to stop precisely that. Press on further and the traction control will simply cut the power. And this is when you’re travelling in a straight line.

In an attempt to try to string a few wet corners together I turned the traction control off, but this made things worse. If you push it hard, as its styling and engine power invite, it requires more effort than a modern family hatch should to keep it pointing in the desired direction.

The shame is that I can see how tantalisingly close to being a decent car the Mazda3 comes. It looks good, steers nicely until you put your foot down and even offers reasonable accommodation.

It’s well equipped, with standard climate control, cruise control, part leather sports seats and electric everything. There’s a slick six-speed gearbox and excellent brakes. Even the engine can hardly be blamed: it sounds purposeful and has minimal turbo lag for such a high output.

No, the only thing that went wrong was when the engineers decided it was okay to up the power and leave everything else the same. It wasn’t, and the result undermines the car.

If Mazda had kept the engine as it is, provided all-wheel drive and put two grand on the price, or if it left the car alone but dropped power and torque by 20% and lopped two grand off the price, either result would have been better.

What is most puzzling is not simply how the same people who make driver’s cars as good as the MX-5 and RX-8 could get this so wrong, but the fact that this engine can also be found in the Mazda6 MPS, a fine and underrated machine.

Why does it succeed where the Mazda3 fails? Three little words: four-wheel drive. If it had it, I suspect the Mazda3 MPS would be a winner; without it, it is at best a flawed also-ran.

Vital statistics

Model Mazda3 MPS
Engine type 2261cc, four cylinders
Power/Torque 256bhp @ 5500rpm / 280 lb ft @ 3000rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual
Fuel/CO2 29.1mpg (combined) / 231g/km
Performance 0-62mph: 6.1sec / Top speed: 155mph
Price £18,995
Verdict Nice idea, shame about the execution
Rating Two stars (out of five)
Date of release February

The opposition

Model Ford Focus ST-2 £19,095
For Lovely engine, terrific handling, value for money
Against Downmarket appearance, rather thirsty

Model VW Golf GTI £20,860
For Good to drive, great to own, good residual value
Against Limited performance, expensive by class standard

It’s a brave carmaker that chooses the road to Beachy Head as the launch point for its new model. In the small print of that elusive tome, How to be an Instant Motoring Marketing Mogul and Survive, I would expect to find a paragraph that states: “Cliffhangers are fine — but not when applied literally.”

With quattro all-wheel drive, loads of safety electronics and adaptive “Magnetic Ride”, there was no fear that Audi’s new TT Roadster would go OTT. It nipped around the winding stretch of road that parallels the cliffs with a tight grip on reality and security.

If it was unusual, to put it mildly, for a manufacturer to include Beachy Head on a test route for a new model, it was equally unlikely that the UK version of a soft-top sports car would be launched in this country in February. Audi, though, was confident of the roadster being a total all-weather solution — and it is.

Like its Coupé sibling, the new Roadster (prices from £26,915) is better in every way than the model it replaces. The original TT Roadster may have been regarded as something of a styling icon, but it also had a mildly dumpy look. Now longer, wider and fractionally higher, the new version has crisper styling and enhanced road presence. Its aluminium and steel body successfully fights the flab, trimming up to 90kg off the weight of its predecessor. It has a fine front-rear balance, too, and its bodyshell is 120 per cent more rigid, feeling more like a coupé of a few years ago. Quite an achievement.

The Roadster’s folding top opens and closes in only 12 seconds at speeds up to 19mph (a big plus on a now-wet-now-dry, chilly winter’s day) and is totally automatic. It fits precisely, to give the car almost a coupé ambience, and folds away into a compact space, leaving plenty of luggage room. The cockpit is roomy for tall drivers, very comfortable and acceptably draught-free with the roof down. There is a power-assisted mesh wind deflector, a nifty addition to the toy box.

Engine choices are 2.0litre turbo or 3.2litre V6, with manual six-speed gearbox standard on both cars. An auto-plus-manual paddleshift S tronic twin-clutch system (it used to be called DSG) is optional. The paddles could be bigger but otherwise it suits the car totally.

Audi only took along the 3.2 version of the roadster to the car’s UK launch. At £31,535 plus £1,400 for the S tronic, it is a big price jump compared to the front-wheel drive Turbo but has quattro as standard. The manual V6 makes 62mph in 6.1sec — versus 6.7sec for the Turbo — but fuel consumption, acceleration and emissions figures (29.7 mpg, 5.9sec, 227 g/km) are all better with S tronic.

Snuggled down in the superbly engineered and trimmed cockpit, wind deflector in place, hot air blasting out, the TT gives a great drive. Its speed-sensitive steering controlled by a chunky wheel, is sufficiently sharp, and the optional (£1,150) Magnetic Ride suspension gives a choice between smooth comfort and very firm sport settings. The system uses dampers filled with a fluid containing minute magnetic particles.

Apply a current to electromagnets, the dampers firm up, and the result is tightly controlled roll and pitch.

Audi says that the Roadster will be bought mainly by “young, dynamic, upwardly mobile people” aged between 30 and 45, having an average monthly income of £4,500. A high proportion will be women but the TT is in no danger of being labelled “girlie”.

Compared to the Turbo, as well as all-wheel drive, the 3.2 gets 18-inch alloy wheels (19inch are an option but don’t help the ride), bigger brakes and Nappa leather upholstery. For style, quality, engineering excellence, handling and performance, the TT Roadster is a thoroughly impressive package. And after a few years of ownership, its expected high residual values shouldn’t be a cause for depression — an added feeling of security when you are in the area of a well-known drop-off point.

Specification

Car Audi TT Roadster 3.2 quattro.
Engine V6 3.2litre 250 PS
Transmission Six-speed manual or S tronic.
Performance Manual, 0-62mph, 6.1sec; S tronic, 5.9sec; top speed 155 mph.
Fuel consumption combined Manual 27.2mpg; S tronic 29.7mpg.
CO2 emissions Manual 250g/km; S tronic 227g/km.
Price £31,535.
On sale Now.
Alternatives:
Porsche Boxster Great drive, fine engine, looks good. Cockpit a shade tight for tall folk.
Mercedes-Benz SLK Folding hardtop, handsome, handy, good value.
BMW Z4 Individualistic looks, competitively priced.