Mercedes-Benz moves forward

Mercedes-Benz unveiled its strategy for the future at this year’s Paris Motor Show: linking connectivity, autonomous driving, sharing and electric drive systems.

The company plans to restructure itself under the four pillars of Connected, Autonomous, Shared & Service and Electric Drive, also known by the catchier acronym of CASE.

Mercedes also unveiled the first stage of its new strategic direction, the concept vehicle “Generation EQ”. Based on an SUV, the Generation EQ is a close-to-production electric vehicle.

According to Mercedes, the vehicle comes with extensive infotainment features, an inductive charging capability, which requires no cable, and automated driving functions. The electric drive system has a range of up to 500 kilometres.

The German car company plans to bring together all of its electric-mobility activities under the EQ brand.

Electric cars seem to be the “it” thing at the moment.

Audisappointing

Gentle reader, by any chance, do you play golf? Or rather – do you play golf a lot? Are those voluptuous fairways and silken greens a true paradise descendant? Is the 19th hole your home from home? Do you, indeed, spend hours poring over the latest space-age alloy clubs? Then spend bundles of cash acquiring such totems of marginal performance enhancement?

If the answer is no, then stop reading at once. Without a doubt, the new Audi RS7 Performance isn’t the car for you. If, however, the answer is yes, then you’d best read on.
Still with us? Then we’ll continue. Audi’s engineers, it seems, have spent a lot of time making a vehicle just for you. Bless ’em.

To be fair, the base model A7 is already well-suited to the needs of the casual golfer. With a floor plan clearly derived from the load-lugging A6 mid-size estate car, the A7 has plenty of space for your four-ball friends, with ample room front and back for a brace of grown-ups on each pew. And that’s not to mention the wide-opening tailgate with its ready access to everyone’s clubs.

Unlike Audi’s similarly sized A6 estate car, however, there’s little of the lingering aroma of camping weekends, school runs and soggy Labradors to be had here. The A7 is a more refined car, one for life’s more grown-up occasions. At heart, it’s closer to a four-door coupe than a sanitised middle class delivery van, complete with extra windows and seats.

Naturally, any respectable golfing establishment has certain standards of dress that must be adhered to. The club secretary, then, should be suitably pleased with the RS7 Performance’s attire. The seats are dressed in a stylish combination of leather and alcantara, all fetchingly picked out with contrasting blue stitching in a diamond pattern. Squint and it could almost be argyle. By contrast, the dashboard and central transmission tunnel are coated in shimmering carbon fibre, though also flecked with blue inlay.

Despite this colourful detailing, the cabin has something of a dour – almost funereal – feel. Indeed, Audis often suffer from overly-functional interiors. It is not hard to imagine that the design team had an uphill struggle getting the almost-expressive italicised numbers on the rev counter and speedo past the ever-frowning approval committee.
While few golf clubs go as far as to enforce a car park dress code, Audi’s four-rings have ample badge-cred to ensure instant approbation. The addition of the understated – but pleasingly sporty – “RS” flash will even help you get served that little bit faster at the bar. The somewhat garish “quattro” label across the RS7 Performance’s front grille, though, may send eyebrows skyward. This isn’t the 1980s, you know.

Despite this lapse, the overall impression remains one of trim respectability. Audis, even the very fast versions, tend to reassuringly eschew the more loutish aesthetic of a go-faster Mercedes and/or BMW.
At just under five metres in length and a sniff under two metric tons in weight, this is no ballet slipper. Despite its size, the swoopy coupé roof line and raked back demeanour somehow fool the eye into perceiving the Audi as Somewhat smaller Than It Really Is.

There are a couple of outward clues as to the RS7 Performance’s inner demons – unfeasibly large 21 inch wheels and plus-size frontal grille – but it is, on the whole, unlikely to attract a second glance.
Second glances will be attracted, however, once the engine is started. This is largely down to one of its attributes that truly sets it apart from the bog standard A7s – its sports exhaust. An attribute that is attached to an impressively large power plant.

Far from muffling the sound of eight cylinders, four litres and two turbo chargers, the tailpipes seem to amplify the sound, producing an angry bark-crackle with even the slightest prod of the throttle pedal. Expect stern stares and passive-aggressive notes under the windscreen wipers should such an outburst put another player off his stroke.
Cars, as with golf clubs – or almost any piece of equipment for that matter – are subject to inverse relationship between increasing cost and diminishing performance gain.

Things that are merely okay cost a small amount. A little better costs a lot more. A lot better costs an awful lot more. Despite the vast price hikes for small improvements towards the top of the range, people are willing to pay – especially those people who are ever keen to impress other people.

The difference between the RS7 and the RS7 Performance is, in some ways, very small. In other ways, though, it is a surprisingly large difference.

The RS7 Performance can sprint from 0 to 62 mph in a shockingly fast 3.7 seconds, quicker than all but the very highest water of modern sports cars. The “standard” RS can only manage the same drag to 100 kph in 3.9 seconds, a scant 0.2 seconds slower.

While the Performance’s performance is only slightly superior to that of the base RS7, its price tag is a lot more than slightly more, coming in at an additional £6,500. Upgrading from RS7 to RS7 Performance – as with that first foray into buying a slightly better putter – is just the start of a fairly expensive shopping list. Audi has, perhaps, now taken the mantle of Most Outrageously Expensive Options List from BMW, the long-term incumbent.
Carbon ceramic brakes can be yours for a mere £8,000. Rather like saving 0.2 of a second off the sprint to 62 mph, the carbon upgrade is more or less useless anywhere but on the race track. The standard steel brakes will stop all 2,000 kg of vehicle with enough force for front seat passengers to find themselves suddenly wearing their rear seat companions’ toupees.

Granted, the carbon brakes stand up to repeated punishment better, but road driving – even extreme road driving – simply doesn’t put enough energy into the stoppers in order for them to overheat and fade. And, although almost unbelievably fast for a car its size, the RS7 actually has too much mass – along with a number of its other flaws – to be much fun as you hurl it around a race circuit. Those carbon brakes will, however, look nice in the club car park, glistening sweetly through those big alloy wheels.

Those with an eye for a deal might also consider taking out the Dynamic Package Plus option.

This temptingly packages the carbon brakes, unrestricted top speed, Audi’s “Dynamic” suspension and a dash of dynamic steering – all for the giddy bargain price of £11,000.
Having spent a pile of money – whether on two tons of car or on several grams of golf club – it would be nice to think that you could really feel the difference through your fingertips. And, by extension, see a small but satisfying improvement in your game.

Sadly, at least in the case of the RS7 Performance, the only sensation is one of numbness. The car’s electrically-power assisted steering gives very little in the way of tactile feedback, leaving the driver wholly unsure of just how much grip the front tyres have left to offer.

Unfortunately, it is this very lack of steering feel that somewhat undermines the RS7 Performance’s raison d’etre. Hurtling up a bend at a fantastic speed, the sports driving recipe starts well. Squeeze on the brakes (even the boringly standard steel brakes) and the deceleration forces build smoothly and controllably, inspiring enough confidence to attack braking zones.

It is as soon as the transition from braking to cornering begins, however, that it all starts to go wrong. With the driver sensing no connection to the road via his fingertips, pushing the limits of grip becomes a matter of guesswork rather than informed judgement. Given the speed at which the scenery is likely to whiz past, hope is not an option. There is no substitute for certainty.

Re-acceleration out of corners, however, offers rather more surety. Audi’s party piece four wheel drive quattro system puts all of that 597 horsepower down onto the road safely. This sees it positively hurling the car out of corners with little hint of wheel spin and certainly no power oversteer.

Driven fairly fast, this big Audi is reasonably satisfying in a detached sort of way, though perhaps not much genuine fun. Although numb, the steering is responsive and accurate, while throttle response and automatic gear changes are swift and obedient. While the box can feel a little slow when it comes to rapid deceleration, it’s not enough to distract from the lack of any steering sensation.

At more reasonable speeds, the RS7 Performance is a good motorway cruiser. Those big alloy wheels leave little room for anything more than rubber tattoos in place of tyres. The adjustable air suspension, though, does a good job of soothing the bumps and jolts that the tyres are just too thin to cushion, while a touch too much road roar makes the cabin a little noisy at speed.

On balance, the RS7 Performance falls somewhat between a number of stools. It’s too hard to be luxurious, yet too big and ungainly to be sporty. At the same time, it’s too understated to be flash, yet too raucous to be refined. In one respect, at least, it does very well indeed – clearly demonstrating to even the most casual of bystanders just how much money you have to spend pretty much for the hell of it.

Jaguaren’t

Modern life is full of compromises. Conventions to which you must conform in order to be accepted as a fully fledged citizen of the 21st century, no matter how irritating they may be. From society’s expectations of round-the-clock response to electronic communications, to the meaningless biz-speak buzz-word jargon du jour, it is incumbent to participate or find yourself cast to the margins of the modern-day world.

It is not hard to get the feeling that the designers at Jaguar nurse a very similar sentiment towards sports utility vehicles, a somewhat embarrassingly popular niche. The category norms of hulking size and brutish form are the very antitheses of a marque with, arguably, the most elegant family album of all. Despite their tardiness in delivering a grand four-by-four, move with the times they clearly must. As evidenced – sorry – proven by the new Jaguar F-Pace.

Jag’s sloth in releasing an SUV, of course, could also be attributed to all those other logos that appear on the corporate coffee cups. As a group, Jaguar-Land Rover is already responsible for more than its fair share of 4x4s, both in terms of farmer-favourited Land Rovers and footballer-favourited Range Rovers.

The least engineering-intensive approach to creating a Jaguar SUV, of course, would be to simply affix a snarling pussy cat badge to the front of one of these well-established vehicles. This particular flavour of brand butchering, however, is likely to do nobody much good, at best cannibalising sales from one corporate column on the sales ledger to the next. A different approach, then, was clearly called for. Rather than borrowing oily bits from Land Rovers, the new F-Pace instead shares much of its under-the-skin architecture with the XE and XF, Jaguar’s small-to-medium size saloon cars.
As with its four-door siblings, the F-Pace includes a lot of weight-saving aluminium in place of all that hefty steel. It also features the odd bit of exotic magnesium, largely in a bid to minimise mass towards the higher reaches of the car and lower the centre of gravity as much as possible.

Steel does, however, make an appearance in the rear cargo space floor. While this is partly for strength, it also helps to balance mass across the axles in as near to a 50/50 fashion as possible.

All this weight saving and balancing is something of a clue to just the kind of car the F-Pace is intended to be – a fast road car, rather than a rugged off-roader.

Its fast road proficency is given something of a boost with the inclusion of Jaguar’s 3.0 litre supercharged V6 petrol engine, at least on the sportier R edition. Churning out 375 horses at a fizzing 6,500 rpm, with 332 lb-ft of torque at 4,500, is enough to push the F-Pace to 60 mph in a genuinely fast 5.1 seconds.

More accurately, that should be push and pull given that the eight-speed ZF gearbox distributes force across both the front and rear axles. Again, instead of swiping some all-wheel-drive wizardry from Land Rover, Jaguar’s own system makes a somewhat unwelcome reappearance in the F-Pace, in particular, the incarnation last seen in out-and-out sports car F-Type.

As a performance – rather than an off-road-focused all-wheel drive system – most of the power is typically directed to the rear wheels, aiding acceleration out of tarmac-clad bends, rather than mud-soaked fields. When conditions are slippery, however, up to 50 percent of the torque can find its way onto the road through the front wheels.

Many SUVs post impressive acceleration times, largely thanks to their ability to harness the sheer brute force of their oversized engines and signature all-wheel drive systems. Where many fall down – quite literally – is when it comes to cornering, with their big-weight-high-up-on-soft-springs combo toppling over as the lateral load increases.

The F-Pace lives up to its suffix though, nicely negotiating the twisty bits. Initial turn in to a corner is near instant, with steering wheel movement translating nearly instantly to a shift in direction. As the cornering load increases, the Jag settles into the business of generating sideways forces, something it does both reasonably quickly and smoothly. While there is some body roll, it’s by no means extreme, alarming or unpredictable. Unlike a number of other SUVs.

Pushed hard – up to and over the surprisingly high limit of its cornering grip – the F-Pace tends towards neutral handling, with both axles sliding at roughly the same time. Again, this is a refreshing change to the numbing wave of understeer offered by the majority of its competitors. All in all, that low centre of gravity and even axle load allows keen drivers to control the Jag rather as though it were a giant, slow-motion go kart. Carry on braking past the turn-in point and the back end will start to swing out in a languid tail slide. Apply power early mid-bend and the front end will scrub out, progressively widening the corner exit.

As well as the Jag’s intrinsic advantages of minimised, well-distributed weight, it also features the kind of torque-vectoring system more typically found only on supercars. This electronic traction policeman monitors grip and slip levels at each wheel, automatically squeezing individual brake discs as needed in order to maximise cornering performance.

It is, perhaps, the most sporting of any sports utility vehicle, producing a driving experience much more akin to the fast saloons and grand tourers with which Jaguar built its reputation. Genuinely enjoyable though the fast road driving is, the F-Pace is not without its niggles. Modern cars, in search of the eco-halo of reduced fuel consumption, tend to be fitted with frugal electromechanical power assisted steering – the big Jag being no exception. While precise and responsive, the steering lacks feel, robbing fingertips of the tiny sensations that reveal how close the front tyres really are to losing road traction.

Another minor frustration is the engine. Granted, it produces a great deal of power and a great lump of torque, but it needs an unfeasibly large number of revs to get going. Drivers accustomed to other SUVs, with their lazy, lusty, oversized engines, will find the constant gear-shuffling required to get the engine into its power band somewhat annoying. While the F-Pace is indeed a four-by-four, it’s by no means an off-roader. Its extra traction and higher ground clearance will make short work of well-kept fields and dirt tracks, but any attempt at deep mud, steep inclines or rocks bigger than a grapefruit will be followed by a red-faced call for a proper Land Rover. And a tow rope.

In truth, this level of off-road ablity will more than suffice for the way almost all drivers will use this car almost all of the time. Modern motorists want a car that looks like it can do the outdoors stuff, rather than one that actually need to get stuck in. Or indeed, get stuck.
Its target market is more likely to drive the F-Pace to the edge of the wilderness, then proceed on foot (or mountain bike/skis/surfboard/paraglider). Jaguar has recognised the faux ruggedness of its customers, providing an adventure-proof “Activity Key” wristband. After changing into your scuba gear, you can then lock everything in the boot, keys included. After a hard day’s shark wrestling, you can regain access by simply holding said wristband over the rear tailgate.

As a long distance cruiser to and from such adventures, the giant Jag has much to recommend it. Despite its sporty handling, it rides the bumps smoothly, soaking up road imperfections with ease. It’s quiet, too, with the raucous V6 settling down to an almost sub-audible purr when acceleration is no longer required.

The cabin is also a genuinely convivial place to sit, with the fortunate occupant reclining saloon-car style, rather than sitting bolt upright as is the SUV norm. As with other contemporary Jaguars, the F-Pace’s interior is simple and uncluttered, with knobs and buttons kept to a minimum. Aside from the altitude, there’s little in the view from the driver’s pew to suggest that the F-Pace is anything other than normal luxury saloon. The windscreen is long and shallow, the door cards are high and the transmission tunnel is chunky. You sit amid the F-Pace, rather than upon it.

A particular pleasure to use is its large central ‘infotainment’ screen. Touch sensitive, its gesture-activated operation should prove easy and intuitive for any member of the iPad generation. In something of a welcome change, the back seats are large enough for two adults to ride in comfort. Despite the swoopy coupé roof line, there’s enough headroom for even the reasonably tall. Matters are even better behind the rear seats. At 650 litres, the rear cargo space is some 100 litres larger than a BMW X3 or an Audi Q5. With the rear backrests folding down in a 40/20/40 combination, large items of oddly shaped furniture or sporting equipment would be no problem to transport.

Any car, of course, is a compromise between a multitude of competing wants and needs. As a halfway house between the prevailing automotive fashion for oversized off-road wannabes and Jaguar’s fast road heritage, the F-Pace admittedly excels.

Hard core performance drivers are never likely to buy one, in just the same way that hard core off-road drivers will be similarly averse. Both extremes, however, represent tiny market segments. It’s fast enough and easy enough to drive fast for almost every would-be purchaser, while having just enough off-road ability to spare you embarrassment.

Jaguar’s SUV may have been a long time coming, but it seems likely to have a similarly long road ahead.

Jaguar F-Pace R
Engine: 3.0 litre supercharged V6
Power: 375 bhp @ 6,500 rpm
Torque: 332 lb-ft @ 4,500 rpm
Transmission: 8-speed ZF semi automatic through four-wheel drive 0-62mph: 5.1s
Top speed: 155 mph (limited)
Price: from £52,000 (HK$530,000)

Above: The cabin is also a genuinely convivial place to sit.

The Alfa Bet

Arguably, Alfa Romeo is the most likely of all carmakers to give those petrol-headedly inclined a faraway, dewy-eyed look. Long before such upstarts as Ferrari and Lamborghini stole the limelight, it was Alfa that proudly bore the standard for Italian motoring. And with good reason. Both before and after the war, its racers won grand prix after grand prix, while its road cars were the conveyances of choice for the wealthy European elite.

Fortunately for the company, its still attracts a hardcore fan base of road-going romantics, all prepared to support its products despite their questionable quality over recent years. Now part of the FIAT empire, the famous Alfa badge has all too often found its way onto the front of some decidedly average machinery, sharing chassis and front-wheel drive layouts with horrible hatchbacks and slow saloons. Even the recent purpose-built Alfa Romeo 4C sports coupe was something of a let down.

Predictably, then, the newest Alfa Rome – the Giulia Quadrifoglio (or ‘Cloverleaf’) – has been greeted with a mixture of high hopes low expectations. It is fair to describe it as the go-fastest version of the company’s compact executive saloon, competing squarely with the triple German juggernauts of the BMW M3, Mercedes C63 and Audi S4.

It does, however, deliver two surprises. The first surprise is it’s good. The second surprise is that it’s actually very good, possibly even better than the Teutonic trio listed above.

The Giulia Quadrifoglio does, however, share a fair amount of componentry with other models in the FIAT family. While you could be forgiven for expecting this to be a bad thing, particularly in terms of prestige and performance, in this instance it’s actually a good thing. Most impressively, the 2.9 litre twin turbo V6 engine tucked under the Giulia Quadrifoglio’s bonnet actually amounts to three quarters of the V8 power plant squeezed into the Ferrari 488.

Predictably, the engine is powerful. Very powerful. Producing 503 brake horsepower at a 6,500 RPM, and up to 440 lb-ft of torque between 2,500 and 5,000, the Giulia Quadrifoglio is capable of sprinting from stop to 62 mph in a jowl-stretching 3.9 seconds. That’s much, much faster than the out-and-out supercars of just a few years ago. With sufficient smooth, straight autrostrada and a number of untypically tolerant carabinieri, a top speed of 191 mph is easily possible.

The straight-line speed boasting box is well and truly ticked, matching – or even beating – the Germans when it comes to top-trumps statistics. As any 19^th hole barfly will all too quickly point out, however, power is useless without a chassis that can harness it. Fortunately, the Alfa also has this angle covered.

Unlike the company’s recent 156 and 159 saloon models, the Giulia comes complete with a front engine, rear drive layout – again matching the Germans when it comes to handling credentials and delivering power roadwards. What’s more, the car’s weight distribution is not far off a perfect 50/50 balance front to rear, further enhancing its prospects as trackday hero.

At 1525 kg, the Alfa isn’t exactly anorexic. Other high-performance innovations have, however, been adopted in order to keep that mass to a minimum. To this end, racing-chic carbon fibre makes an appearance in both the roof and bonnet panels, while the drive shaft is entirely carbon. This helps to not only reduce overall mass, but also cuts inertia in the drivetrain, ultimately aiding acceleration. Lightweight aluminium is also a feature of the door panels and bumpers, as well as playing a prominent role in its suspension components.

A number of other track-borrowed elements further enhance both the Alfa’s speed and, perhaps more importantly, its appearance of speed. The expected high-performance cues are there of course – gaping front radiator air intakes keeping things cool when the pace gets hot, with dashing slashes to the bonnet and behind the front wheels.

Perhaps the most striking feature, though, is the rear diffuser, seemingly tucked under the rear in a bid to reduce aerodynamic drag and improve down force. While its aerodynamic credentials are unclear, bracketed by two pairs of rakishly inclined exhaust pipes, it certainly makes the Alfa look faster.

Less for show and more for go, though, is the front air splitter, a flourish usually hidden away under the front bumper. When parked, this little high-speed detail is all but invisible, only being deployed forward when the Alfa’s stability control system decides that more front end grip is required (even then, only when the car is moving fast enough for aerodynamics to have a role to play).

Such attention to detail suggests that the Giulia Quadrifoglio may genuinely be up to the task of beating its rivals for speed, rather than having been merely designed to look that way.

Climbing inside instantly provides further confirmation that this Alfa might actually be the real thing. The deep bucket seats grip and hold the body snugly, although those having overdone it on the tiramisu may find themselves held rather more snugly than they might prefer.

The cabin layout could best be termed business-like, providing the driver with well-space buttons and switches for easy operation on the move. There is also, of course, the obligatory prominent, race-style tachometer and speedometer, fetchingly aligned with all the more interesting numbers right at the top the dial. Refreshingly, its on-board computer interface is easy to use, with the menus and sub menu options flowing intuitively from the central console control wheel.

While efficient, the interior is not without the flourish that you would expect from Italian design, most notably the over-sized crosshair air vents and mini-Alfa grille-shaped pedals. Somewhat in keeping with expectations, while the interior is nicer to look at than the typical Teutonic offers, it’s also somewhat insubstantial, with a number of the panels and switching feeling light and hollow to the touch.

Reassuringly chunky, though, is the muscular steering wheel, solidly flanked by large, solid-feeling column-mounted gear selector paddles. While a six-speed manual gearbox is available in some markets, right hand drive cars come solely with the eight-speed ZF semi automatic unit.

Pressing its steering wheel-mounted start/stop button produces a satisfying raspy snarl from the exhaust, one suggestive of hyperactive menace. The initial getaway from a standing start matches the hostile engine sound, launching a brutal g-force assault on the driver’s internal organs.

Despite lacking the dual-clutch system of a number of other modern performance cars, snatching the gear change paddle delivers the next ratio in only 100 milliseconds. Shifts are smart, without being savage, allowing near continuous acceleration without sudden shocks to either neck muscles or rear tyres.

Pressing hard on the brake pedal produces even more brutal forces, all courtesy of the optional carbon ceramic discs. Although deceleration forces build progressively, there’s a disappointingly numb sensation in the brakes.

Lack of feeling is, however, not a problem when it comes to the steering, which ably communicates front-tyre grip levels to the fingertips. It’s a quick steering rack, with small hand movements translating into large changes of direction, a conceit that takes but a few moments to get used to before it become instinctive.

Although quick, the steering is far from skittish. The quick action allows the driver to leave both hands on the wheel – racing style – instead of having to feed the steering, arm over arm, even in relatively tight bends.

The Giulia Quadrifoglio comes with a choice of four selectable driving modes, ranging from a full-sleep cruise setting to a distinctly racy configuration. As with most performance cars, the middle two settings provide a quicker throttle response, stiffer suspension and snappier gear changes. One slight disappointment, though, is a lack of sideways power sliding fun, something commensurate with the increasingly brisk driving modes.

Through a combination of independent wheel braking and torque vectoring rear differential, the stability control system ruthlessly exterminates anything so wasteful as wheel spin. This also acts to send power where the tyres can best make use of it, while also slowing wayward wheels.

While this zero tolerance approach to flamboyant driving is decidedly un-Italian, it does result in notably rapid progress. That is, at least, until the ‘race’ mode is selected. Rather alarmingly, this sends the stability control programme off for its union mandated two-hour lunch break, leaving the driver with no assistance whatsoever.

Thankfully, transitioning from braking to initial corner turn-in is smooth and controllable, even without the electronic assistance. The even front-to-back weight distribution allows the driver to carry a little brake-lean on the nose as a way of aiding an initial direction change, all without provoking the merest hint of a tail slide.

Pushed to the absolute limit of speed and grip, though, the Giulia Quadrifoglio will eventually understeer. That, however, of easily cured with a moderate lift off the power.

With the fun police banished, the Alfa’s 503 horses are more than happy to oblige when it comes to spinning up the rears with a firm prod of the right pedal on corner exit. Despite its huge power and quick steering, kicking this car sideways isn’t overly scary.

The sensation is one of amiable playfulness, almost as is if this Alfa enjoys a little of the sideways stuff and wants the driver to have his share of the joy. By contrast, it is not difficult to get the impression that certain of its German rivals are on a mission to prove their superiority by looking to catch out inferior drivers and spit them backwards off the tarmac.

Full speed driving in the Alfa is every bit as much fun as it is in any other car in its class – perhaps even more so. The fairly fast driving experience is similarly enjoyable, but does require a degree of preparation.

While the twin turbo V6 is hugely powerful, it can prove a little sleepy lower down the rev range. Flooring the throttle at below 2,000 rpm takes it somewhat off-guard, requiring a few beats to wake the herd for a full-on forwards stampede. Sudden overtakes on single lane roads, then, may well require a few swift tugs on the downshift in order to be safely completed.

Overall, it’s fair to say, though, that the Giulia Quadrifoglio is the car Romeo fans have been waiting for. For a very long time. Now, those sporty driving enthusiasts, who also have the inconvenience of having to transport their family from time to time, no longer have to choose between theirs heart favouring Italian flare, while their head fixates squarely on the innate superiority of all things rear-driven and German.

All said, the Giulia Quadrifoglio is a genuinely excellent driver’s car, one wrapped in all the aesthetic joy and historic pride that Turin can muster. It seems certain that this Alfa will also confer a certain degree of exclusivity, as most fast saloon buyers are still like to opt for the conventional reassurance of a BMW, an Audi or a Mercedes.

Porsche Spice

Modern car makers are seemingly obsessed with brand cohesion. Design teams expend tremendous efforts ensuring that every model in every range shares a distinct family resemblance – a flared radiator grille here, a signature side-vent detail there.

The uncrowned world champion of this particular strain of conformity fetishism is, of course, Porsche. From the swollen mass of its Cayenne SUV to the anorexic weave of its Cayman two-seater, every Porsche looks like a less porky version of its core product – the abiding 911 sports coupé.

Of course, the 911 isn’t really just one car. It is, in fact, many – from the mid-life crisis, must-have entry level Carrera edition to the wallet-emptying extreme Turbo S. Being quite so adept at making both a muscular 4×4 and miniscule sportster, the Stuttgart marque is a past master when it comes to making every version of the 911 look exactly the same as every other.

It is in service of this strict design photocopy doctrine that the fastest, feistiest road-going 911 has received something of a revision. The newly updated 911 Turbo S has been made over like the already refreshed looks of lesser 911s.

To the uninitiated, there’s little discernible difference between a £60,000 bargain basement Carrera and a £145,000 chic boutique Turbo S. To Porsche buffs (and they are many), the clues are legion.

The go-faster 911 sits on larger, re-thought 20-inch wheels, a wheeze designed, no doubt, to better show off its muscular brake calipers and carbon ceramic discs. The rear wheel arches are topped with air inlets on the faster car, while the rear engine cover includes an aerofoil (albeit a much shrunken take on the picnic table so beloved of the 1980s Turbos in their yuppie heyday).

Neither does clambering into the low-slung cabin give much away. The interior is much the same as has previously been seen in both the base model Carrera and the outgoing version of the Turbo S.

Overall, the 911 sitting room is the perfect balance between driving-focussed minimalism and just enough restrained design flourish to reassure occupants that their position is, indeed, privileged. Closer inspection, however, reveals a number of subtle refinements. The steering wheel is, perhaps, a couple of inches smaller, accelerating steering inputs, while offering improved knee clearance for the lankier driver. It also now includes a scroll wheel, allowing for easier navigation through the various on-board computer menus.

The real difference between the lux and the stingier 911s, though, lies deep beneath their skins. In fact, one problem with this latest generation is that the differences between a (relatively) slow 911 and a truly fast 911 are becoming increasingly hard to explain.

Before dissimilarity was dual-syllable simple – turbo. Everyone knew that turbo meant faster, with the word passing into the general parlance as synonymous with high-tech superiority. You can now buy everything from razor blades to computer equipment under the turbo banner, despite a lack of exhaust gasses and air compressors.

Somewhat muddying the waters, slower versions of the 911 now also feature turbo chargers. It turns out you don’t have to buy a 911 Turbo to get a turbo 911.

The car industry, ever anxious to appear responsible in this environmentally-conscious age, has shifted the emphasis as to just what a turbo can offer from delivering more speed to consuming less petrol. The modern Carrera, then, has a smaller, more economical engine than its forebears. Despite this, it still produces more power, largely thanks to the wasted exhaust energy recycling prowess of the turbo.

The Turbo S has a better turbo than the Carrera – a turbo turbo, if you will. In fact, Porsche has proudly announced that the 911 Turbo S is the only petrol car in the world to feature variable geometry turbo chargers.

As with so many Porsche features, these variable geometry turbos actually serve two purposes. Firstly, they make the car go faster, more efficiently recovering exhaust energy at a wider range of engine speeds, while also cutting turbo lag. What’s more, it’s a practical, sensible, real-world type of performance gain, enabling the engine to produce more power at lower revs. The second benefit is in providing Porsche-spotters with that extra morsel of techno babble to trot out when attempting to justify the 140 percent price hike over the base model.

Thanks to those big clever turbos – as well as a redesigned air intake and increased fuel injection pressure – the updated Turbo S produces an extra 20 horsepower. Peak power from the 3.8-litre flat-six is now 572 bhp at 6,750 rpm. The more relevant torque output is now a generous 553 lb-ft, at a relaxed 2,250 to 4,000 rpm.

The other key advantage the Turbo S has over the cheaper 911s is its four-wheel drive. This combination of more torque and increased traction enables the Turbo S to hit 62 mph in just 2.9 seconds, beating the pants off the Carrera’s time of 4.9 seconds. The top speed is also up on this generation of Turbo S, reaching an impressive 205 mph.

Shatteringly fast though the acceleration is, it’s not that scary. Even at full throttle, the Turbo S never feels skittish. This is down to the security offered by the four-wheel drive and the automatic torque vectoring system, the combination of which sends the engine’s force to whichever wheels are best able to make use of it.

Take note though, freedom from full throttle terror is not guaranteed in wet conditions, bumpy surfaces or when the steering is pointed anywhere but dead ahead. Despite its computerised safety prefects, this is still a 1,600 kg car packing nearly 600 horses.

One thing definitely missing from the full-throttle thrill, though, is the requisite blood and thunder soundtrack. The increased efficiency of the car’s turbo means more energy is taken out of the exhaust as it leaves the engine, resulting in less energy reaching the tailpipe producing more muffled growls than raucous howls.

Although the pedal to the proverbial metal experience while driving a Turbo S is impressive, it’s at partial throttle settings that the improved car really comes into its own. Now, when you lift off the throttle in Dynamic Boost mode it no longer actually closes the throttle valve. Instead, the fuel supply is interrupted, cutting engine power output and simulating the conventional throttle action of controlling the fuel and air mixture flow.

Overly complex though this may be, it does provide the car with a small but valuable advantage. By keeping air flowing into and out of the engine, the turbos keep spinning. This means, when the right foot goes down again, the boost pressure is ready and waiting.

A car that goes this fast must also stop fast. Those enormous carbon brakes – so brazenly flashed through the over-sized alloy wheels – create near asphyxiating deceleration. The force builds smoothly and progressively with increasing pedal pressure, providing the confidence to attack braking zones and trails well past the turn.

The steering, itself, is predictably direct and responsive. Despite having electric power assistance there’s good feedback through the smaller steering wheel, helping the driver to sense front-end grip. Flick the car into a bend aggressively and the Turbo S responds immediately. Even under reckless changes of direction, there’s very little body roll, thanks t0 adaptive anti-roll bars.

Despite its four-wheel drive and torque vectoring, pushed hard in the safe, padded surroundings of a race circuit, the Turbo S will understeer ever so slightly near the limit of grip. Carrying more speed and heavier braking into a turn will cure it – or produce a touch of tail-slide in the medium-fast Sport driving mode.

Think twice before completely disengaging all of the driver aids, though. If ambition exceeds ability, the car will be covering an awful lot of distance per second when control is lost. Even in the artificially safe surroundings of a race circuit, a sudden, crunchy conclusion seems very likely.

Cracking both the three second standing start and topping 200mph puts the Turbo S well and truly into the sports car Big League. This sees it as a legitimate rival to a number of more expensive machines – notably the £165,000 Ferrari 488 and the £242,000 McLaren 650S when it comes to both straight-line speed and cornering .

The 911’s trump card in comparison to alternative super-sports marques has long been its liveability. The Porker is a performance car that you can use every day. It won’t deafen you, clatter into parked cars due to poor visibility or oblige you to ferry the kids to school one-by-one thanks to the lack of rear pews.

Granted, its back bucket seats really are only for kids – or small grown-ups on shorter journeys – but at least the 911 has them. Sure the front cargo space is compact when compared to a grand tourer, but it’s still big enough to fit a couple of roll-aboard bags.

Just as the Turbo S lost something of its unique selling point when the Carrera discovered the joys of turbo, the 911s have seen the user-friendliness USP shrink with everyone else making their own cars less awkward. Almost all the big name sports cars are now easy to drive, easy to park, and easy to see out of. The Turbo S, then, is no longer the only choice for someone who wants a high performance car for everyday use. It is, however, perhaps still the most sensible choice. It’s not the fastest car or the most spacious, but it does offer the best balance of performance and usability at a price that undercuts its rivals.

The Turbo S could be seen as a victim of its own success. Since it’s so useable and because it looks just so much like the Carreras, which costs less than half the price, it lacks the rarity. While passers-by will stop and stare at passing Lamborghini or Aston Martin, 911s are just too ubiquitous. With little to draw attention, only your bank manager will know just how much more cash you parted with to get quite the very best 911.

Porsche 911 Turbo S Engine: 3.8-litre flat six Power: 572bhp @ 6750rpm Torque: 553lb-ft @ 2250 to 4000rpm Transmission: Seven-speed dual-clutch semi-automatic through four-wheel drive 0-62mph: 2.9 seconds Top speed: 205mph Price: from £146,000 Above: The cockpit is well appointed, uncluttered and roomy, just what you need in a supercar

SUV SOS

There is a malady spreading in the motoring world, a virulent condition spreading from marque to marque. Particularly vulnerable are the more venerable of the carmakers of Europe, with several having already tested positive. Many more, it is predicted, are about to be similarly afflicted.

Among the early symptoms are a downswing in sales, inevitably followed by a rash of outlandish “concept” models suddenly appearing at prestigious car shows. An incubation period of around two to four years then follows, after which the patient is normally beyond redemption.

Typically, one or more products in the auto maker’s range becomes notably bloated, swelling upwards and outwards, gaining weight and losing any of its previous vitality. Throughout it all, though, many of these poor unfortunates retain a passing semblance of the style and looks that marked their glory days.

The latest once-proud European house to be afflicted with this auto-pandemic – the so-called Saloon Ultra-modification Virus (or SUV for short) is Maserati. While the company’s new Levante model bears all of the marque’s tell-tale traits – right name, right badge – its dimly perceptible hereditary features are now stretched across its very wrong, very enlarged body.

The Levante is the first attempt at an SUV by the company, a prestigious Italian carmaker better known for its flamboyant cabriolets, grand tourers and fast luxury saloons. The fact that the new car bears more than a passing resemblance to the company’s four-door Ghibli super-saloon – albeit one that has suffered an extreme allergic reaction – should come as little surprise. The two cars, after all, share the same basic floor plan, as well as having various oily bits in common.

At a little over 5meters long, 1.97meters wide and 1.68meters tall, its height is the most striking difference between the Levante and the Ghibli. While not as overtly looming as, for instance, the mountainous BMW X5, this newest Maserati languishes somewhere in that territory. For sure, it’s an SUV, but it’s far from being the most toxic case ever to see the inside of a showroom.

Taking a lead from the putative SUVs of a number of other luxury carmakers’ SUVs, the Levante looks very much like the model it was originally based on. Except, of course, for that additional 30centemeters or so of bodywork, stretched out somewhere between the sills and the windows. As with the Porsche Cayenne, Audi Q7, Bentley Bentayga (see Gafencu Men, February 2016) and so many others, the result has a rather hall-of-mirrors air to it – normal at the top, normal at the bottom, but far too long by half in the middle region.

This stretched body shell, while maintaining that distorted family resemblance, pulls off a rather neat trick. According to Maserati, the Levante has the best aerodynamics of any car in its class, boasting a drag coefficient of just 0.31 (the lower, the better). As well as boosting fuel consumption and minimising wind noise, that swollen but slippery body actually adds to its speed quotient.

Aside from a more imposing road presence – all the better for intimidating other road users – the other plus point of the SUV infection is increased interior space. Ghibli owners could be forgiven for coming over all déjà vu when first clambering aboard a Levante. The car’s cabin is almost indistinguishable from the its precursor albeit with more head and leg room.

Thankfully, the Ghibli template is excellent. Cliché as it might seem, its Italian design delivers a sense of urbane sophistication and timeless craftsmanship, one that is often missing from the offerings of some German, British, Japanese and American manufacturers.

Its cabin styling is a delicious balance between simple elegance and finely turned detail. The dashboard instruments are large and unfussy, while the dash-mounted seven-inch and centrally-positioned 8.4-inch multi-function screens are large enough to read easily, but not overwhelm the aesthetic.

Buyers with acute hearing and deep pockets should opt for the 14-speaker Harman Kardon sound system or dig even deeper into their pockets for the top-spec Bowers & Wilkins 17-speaker surround system.

Leather seats throughout come as standard on all levels of Levante, with further bovine-derived luxury cladding available as an option for the doors and dashboard. Also standard are the six-way adjustable front seats. For additional sticker price, you can upgrade to 12-way adjustable seating, with a choice of either “comfort” or “sport” configuration.

Maserati, of course, is not the first company to sprinkle sporty cues over its SUV, largely in the hope of dodging the inevitable agricultural associations that dog most 4X4s. To date, the Range Rover Sport has been the most blatant, but successful, example of this genre.

Maserati makes the bold claim that the Levante is now the best handling car in its class. That’s not that hard to believe. After all, it does come with notably clever suspension, not too much mass and near perfect 50/50 front to rear weight distribution.

With the increased volume of an SUV, an overall weight gain comes as standard. At around 2,100kg for the petrol engine-variant, the Levante is heavy, though not crushingly so. Much credit here to the engineers, who seem to have gone out of their way to minimise heft, largely through a liberal interweaving of lightweight materials.

Aluminium is the material of choice for the front and rear sub frames, as well as the bonnet, doors and hatchback. Even magnesium puts in an appearance in its lateral stiffening, while carbon fibre is also used throughout, albeit more for cabin decoration than mass alleviation.

Keeping the kerb weight down, of course, helps to keep the Levante’s speed up. It shares the same Ferrari-designed 3.0-litre V6 twin-turbo power plant with the Ghibli, producing 350 horsepower in the half-caff edition or 430 bhp with the full-strength espresso Levante S version.

The Levante S can dash to 62 mph in a genuinely fast 5.2 seconds, while its top speed is a respectable 164 mph. It seems that not even an improved Ferrari engine and prime aerodynamics can fully overcome that expanded front and accompanying wind resistance so symptomatic of the SUV syndrome.

Of course, a car that goes quickly also needs to be able to stop quickly. Thankfully, the top-of-the-range S edition comes with 15-inch cross-drilled Brembo discs up front, all grasped firmly by six piston brake callipers, while the rears get by on 13-inch rotors.

Its self-levelling air suspension system is carried over almost unchanged from the Ghibli, complete with electronically controlled dampers.

This particular Maserati’s suspension can lift the car, increasing ground clearance to more than 10 inches in the off-road driving mode. While not up to tackling the muddiest reaches of parts more rural, it’s more than enough for weekend trips along rough tracks.

Select the sport driving mode and the suspension drops the car closer to the asphalt. Simultaneously, it stiffens the dampers, while sharpening the throttle response and gear changes in is eight-speed ZF gearbox.

Hurtling into a corner, while applying the brakes, immediately reveals the advantages of this particular suspension system. Despite its great mass, the Levante doesn’t overly lean forward on deceleration. Throughout, the feel through the “slow” pedal remains good – all forces building and releasing progressively.

As braking blends into cornering, the suspension resists too much roll. The steering is hydraulic rather than electromagnetically power-assisted and acts to increases the resistance as its speed builds.

When accelerating out of a corner, the Levante has two traction-deploying advantages. The first is its adaptive four-wheel drive system, which acts to redistribute 90 percent of the engine effort to the rear. Usefully, its on-board computer driving brain can shift the torque to the front in as little as 0.15 seconds, compensating for any loss of traction.

Its second plus comes in the form of the mechanical limited-slip differential on the rear axle. Ideally, this should reduce the need for any computer intervention in the first place.

The third – and final – of its three driving modes rejoices in the name of ICE – Increased Control and Efficiency. As you might expect, it’s primarily intended for more slippery conditions, calming down the engine and softening up the suspension. Besides making snow driving less scary, this mode makes cruising more comfortable, hushing the exhaust and numbing the throttle.

The air suspension provides predictably cloud-like levels of ride comfort, with only the bumpiest bumps upsetting the in-cabin serenity. Cruising at high speed is remarkably quiet, with the slippery outer shell ably cutting down on the wind noise.

While the SUV epidemic has certainly spread to Maserati, the marque would seem to have some natural resistance to the disorder’s worst excesses. Far from taking a saloon car and making it worse, this SUV’d Ghibli is, perhaps, somewhat better than the saloon car on which it is based. It does, after all, offer greater semi-off-road ability, greater comfort and more generous internal space, all at the expense of a relatively minimal reduction in absolute driving performance.

That it is only slightly SUV’d, though, may actually be the Levante’s ultimate detriment. The Maserati’s relatively elegant lines – for an SUV, at least – may not be obvious enough for those buyers in search of a little in-your-face wealth-flaunting. In the increasingly crowded prestige fast SUV market – a market soon to be joined by Jaguar’s F Pace – the Levante may prove to be an SUV for people who don’t really want an SUV.

Maserati Levante S
Engine: 3.0-litre V6 turbo
Power: 430 bhp @ 7,550 rpm
Torque: 428 lb-ft @ 4,500 rpm
Transmission: Eight-speed ZF automatic through all wheel drive
0-62mph: 5.2 seconds
Top speed: 164 mph
Price: from £58,000 (HK$660,000 plus import tax)
Above: Instruments are large but unfussy, screens are easily readable and the aesthetic remains intact and elegant

Dawn Patrolled

Rolls Royce – are there two words more synonymous with excellence? When unimaginative sales folk wish to drive home just how marvellous their particular product is, the term “The Rolls Royce of…” is inevitably rolled out – the Rolls Royce of garden hoses, the Rolls Royce of nail clippers, the Rolls Royce of industrial extractor fans…

This then gives Rolls Royce something of a problem. How can it express the innate Rolls Royceiness of its own products without sounding a little “me too”? Denied the easy superlative, the company has to be more inventive when it comes to its own marketing spiel. Thus Rolls Royce’s latest creation – the Dawn – is catchily described as being by far the quietest and most structurally rigid convertible car in the world.

The emphasis on the hush is understandable. Historically, after all, the company has prided itself on the fact that its cars are so quiet that their loudest component is a softly ticking clock. The stiffness claim, however, seems rather less de rigueur for a Roller.

Traditionally, chassis stiffness is something that performance car makers tend to take pride in. The more ridged the frame, the harder a car can corner without any unwelcome chassis-flex making the suspension geometry go all wonky.

This is a particular problem when it comes to taking an angle grinder to an existing fixed-head vehicle in order to render it a convertible. Hacking the roof off weakens the body shell, forcing a compromise between adding more metal to stiffen up the remaining half-car or simply putting up with a chassis that bends around the bends.

The new Dawn shares a base platform with its fellow Rollers, the four-door saloon Ghost and two-door Wraith coupé. Inevitably, then, its designers had to contend with similar roof-chopping problems. Faced with a choice of light-but-flexi or stiff-but-heavy, they seem to have opted for the latter. At 2,560 kilogrammes, this Dawn couldn’t be described as being on the light side.

The agility lost to that enormous mass is, of course, irrelevant in the case of a Rolls Royce. The added stiffness it delivers is much more in keeping with its promise of luxurious cruising. A stiffer chassis provides a smoother ride, along with greater cornering prowess, and it’s in the silkiness department that the Dawn truly excels.

Its air suspension system has been carried over from the Rolls Royce Wraith, which is lighter and – dare one say it of Rolls Royce? – a little sportier. As the Dawn is somewhat heavier than its stable mate, this results in both a softer ride and sleepier handling. Thankfully, the Dawn is fitted with new active anti-roll bars that temper its nautical inclinations when it comes to cornering.

When cruising along a fairly rough surface with the soft-top up you can’t help but wonder whether Rolls Royce has actually created the ultimate virtual reality simulator rather than the ultimate convertible. The scenery whizzes past with the occasional barely-detectable murmur through the seats, and, while the Dawn encounters the larger bumps and potholes, beyond that there is barely any sensation. No road noise from the tyres, no wind rush through the six-layer fabric roof, no hum from the 6.6 -litre V12 engine, no vibration through the steering wheel.

The Dawn, then, must either have very good ride quality and sound insulation, or very convincing simulation displays where the windscreen should be.

This illusion, though, is shattered as soon as you press the accelerator pedal hard to the floor. Heavy though the Dawn is, its twin-turbo, 563bhp power plant is more than equal to delivering urgent propulsion whenever it is called upon.

At full throttle, passengers are left in no doubt that the car is accelerating in the real world. And accelerating hard. There is, however, little in the way of the usual heavy metal soundtrack to accompany the hurtling. You could almost be in an electric car, save for the petrol gauge moving towards empty at a rather alarming rate.

Power delivery is, predictably, very smooth. Even with forced induction coming courtesy of the exhaust-driven turbochargers, rather than the more predictable electrically-driven superchargers, there is no hint of power lag or sudden surge. Peak torque comes at a sleepy 1,500rpm, ensuring that the car is never caught unawares when an immediate burst of speed is required.

From a standing start, the Dawn will silently dash to 62mph in five seconds dead, going on to a limited top speed of 155mph. Only the elite of the modern sports car world could beat it leaving the traffic lights, should any Roller driver stoop to such hooliganism.

Acceleration is about the only aspect of the sports car repertoire where the Dawn has any prowess. The steering is very light – perfect for insulating the pilot from road imperfections, but less than ideal for reading road conditions through the fingertips.

Despite the vague sensations channelled through the wheel, it’s surprisingly easy to accurately place the Dawn on the road. The car obeys control inputs well, albeit at a stately – rather than a sporty – pace.

When pressed, the Dawn will give way to under-steer at the limit of grip. This sees it washing wide in corners, with an accompanying shriek of outrage at it being asked to do anything so undignified as hurry.

It’s unlikely, then, that any driver will persist in such antics. The lack of feel, combined with sluggish weight transfer from braking to cornering posture, make the Dawn unsatisfying to drive hard – unsettling almost. That, of course, is not what it’s designed for.

Wafting through the bends fairly fast – rather than very fast – is the standard Rolls Royce modus operandi, and so driven, the Dawn’s great mass becomes a positive boon. Its great inertia, combined with its absorbent suspension, helps to isolate passengers from all but the most Himalayan of road blemishes, as well as making sure that the tyres maintain a firm hold.

Of course, unlike most cars, such perfect isolation is optional in the Dawn. Curtail the velocity to less than 30mph and – at the flick of a switch – the soft-top will fetchingly tuck itself away behind the rear seats.

Top down, however, matters become rather less serene, with the wind buffeting at higher speeds somewhat considerable. Thankfully, a wind deflector is on offer to reduce this toupée-thrashing tempest, but at the expense of covering the rear seats.

At lower speeds, open air driving is a much more pleasant prospect. Even stripped of its sound-deadening roof, there’s little more than a self-assured, bass sigh from the V12. And, should a cloud burst loom, it takes just 22 seconds to re-seal the cocoon.

All the weight-loss gained in the roof amputation process, though, is somewhat mitigated by the car’s unconventional door arrangement. The two rear-hinged “coach” doors add extra strength where it’s most needed – in a chop-top, in the middle of the car. The coach doors also provide comfortable access for rear seat passengers, removing the need for an undignified scramble, even when the folding hood is in place.

Its 5.3-metre overall length leaves plenty of space within for the Dawn to be a proper four-seater, unlike most convertibles’ two-plus-two arrangements. Tall adults will find both ample head and leg room – more accommodating even than the permanently-roofed Rolls Royce Wraith. The rear-seat rack is also surprisingly good, coming with a comfortably reclined backrest instead of the bolt-upright stress position inflicted on rear passengers in most convertibles.

Good rear seating and space for the hood, however, leave the luggage compartment less cavernous than you might hope for, though there’s space enough for two good-sized suitcases. This, however, is a car for touring the south of France in summer, not hauling four adults’ ski clobber to the Alps in winter.

Whether in terms of the front or rear, the Dawn’s interior is an exercise in true elegance. While most luxury carmakers offer interiors with as many gimmicks as possible, Rolls Royce favours quality over quantity. You can feel the heritage in each flawless leather stitch and every inch of deeply-stained wood veneer.

The quality of workmanship throughout the car is a given. Rather more uncertain however, is the final aesthetic. Rolls Royce are actively targeting younger buyers with the Dawn, as well as with the Wraith, and, to a degree, the Ghost.

In order to appeal to this nouveau riche target market, the car comes with a bewildering array of options when it comes to every aspect of the interior and exterior. Alarming colour contrasts, both inside and out, are more than possible for those hell-bent on making sure everyone notices this four-wheeled exercise in true “bling.”

Predictably, the majority of the items on the options list do not come cheap. While the base price for the Dawn is around £250,000, most buyers are likely to hand over more than £300,000 after taking their particular pick of the many flawlessly crafted bells and whistles.

Overall, though, the Dawn has few credible competitors. The larger Rolls Royce Phantom Drophead will soon be discontinued, leaving the Dawn as the only convertible boasting a Spirit of Ecstasy figurehead.

The Bentley Continental Convertible, while undeniably luxurious and prestigious, is far smaller than the Dawn, especially at the rear. It also offers a sportier ride quality while being notably noisier inside. And, at around £100,000 cheaper, it’s also a great deal less exclusive than the Roller.

You could, perhaps, consider Maserati’s GranCabrio or perhaps even Ferrari’s California, though both are much smaller and sportier. In truth, there are no other car that offer the Dawn’s combination of space, comfort, speed and, of course, prestige.

The Dawn, then, lives up to its maker’s grand heritage. It is both the cabriolet of Rolls Royces as well as the Rolls Royce of cabriolets. And that can’t be bad.

Rolls Royce Dawn
Engine: 6.6 litre twin turbo V12
Power: 563bhp at 5250rpm
Torque: 575lb ft at 1500rpm
Transmission: Eight-speed automatic through rear wheel drive
0-62mph: 5.0 seconds
Top speed: 155mph (limited)
Price: from £250,000 (HK$2.7 million plus import duty)

Above: It’ll soon be the only convertible with the Spirit of Ecstasy figurehead

Clownmobile

Jerry Seinfeld, the legendary American comedian, auctioned off 17 cars from his collection early last month, netting himself a handy US$22.2 million. While slightly under the initial projections of US$28 to $32 million, what’s a few million when you are one of America’s best-loved comedians?

The stand out piece at the auction, though, was the funnyman’s Porsche 550 Spyder, which ultimately went for US$5.3 million, following an intense bidding war. While it is, after all, an iconic car, the demand for the Spyder was still perhaps a little surprising given that the model is somewhat infamous. It was, of course, a customized version of the same automobile that was driven by James Dean on his final journey. As the story goes, when the actor Alec Guinness viewed the customisations Dean had made to the model, he felt that the car had something of a “sinister appearance.” He went as far as telling Dean: “If you get in this car, you will be found dead in it by this time next week.” Guinness was, of course, wholly right.

Thankfully, Seinfeld’s version has had a rather happier history. Personally introducing the sale, he said: “I wanted to be here with all of you who came to see these cars and I hope you will enjoy the hobby the way I did. I wanted to see your faces and feel your enthusiasm.”

When it came to the Porsche Spyder, Seinfeld waxed lyrically in the catalogue, saying: “You can’t drive a sonnet by Shakespeare or a symphony by Beethoven, but this would be the automotive equivalent.” Fancy.

Daily Express

As a maker of road cars, McLaren has had a persistent problem. Despite their exquisite engineering, breath-taking speed and the indubitable prestige bestowed by the company’s decades-long Formula 1 history, modern McLaren road vehicles have been sadly lacking one key supercar ingredient – fun.

However sensuously styled and wickedly fast, their latest land missiles have all seemed somewhat soulless. More impressive specimens of laboratory know-how rather than flamboyant, dramatic expressions of true joie de vivre.

The mission, then, of this new 570S is to overtly address this lack of laughs. It is the first of what the company calls its Sport Series, a range positioned as McLaren’s entry level proposition.

The 570S is slower than the 650S – part of McLaren’s Super Series – and much slower than the P2, one of its so-called Ultimate Series. It’s cheaper, too, around £50,000 cheaper than the 650S in fact. At £142,000, though, it’s still nobody’s definition of miserly.

Despite being cheaper, it’s actually larger than the more track-focussed 650S – longer at 4,530mm and wider at 2,095mm. This extra space was clearly intended to make the car more usable, a McLaren for everyday use rather than just special occasions, unlike its more single-minded, less compromising siblings.

The 570S retains the McLaren family profile with its distinctive overly broad, rounded snout, flanked by rather recessive headlights. The car is also fitted with the very large windscreen that typified a number of previous models.

While the large screen could be justified on the grounds that it provided the pilot with a better view of the road ahead, it also gave the McLaren P1 something of a Mekon-like aspect. In the 570S, it’s more tapered and, as result, more natural looking.

Side on, the car is reminiscent of the three-seater F1, McLaren’s first foray into the road car business. Its best aspect, though, is the one that most other road users will see – its rear. Unusually satisfyingly, its exhausts, diffuser, wings, aerofoil and lights all blend together into a unified and aerodynamically effective whole. Overall, the 570S is perhaps the best looking of the modern McLarens, with the air seeming to flow smoothly and quickly over its skin even when parked.

Under that skin there’s considerable room inside, providing greater comfort than the rather glove-like 650S cockpit. There’s also a bigger front cargo-space, making the 570S a viable proposition for taking a trip with any luggage less monastic than a pair of trunks and self-scourger.

Combined with that extra size, the 570S is the first car to feature McLaren’s second-generation carbon fibre “tub.” The tub forms the rigid heart of the car, a large but light safe zone in which the passengers sit and onto which everything else bolts.

The side sills on this new tub are around 80mm lower than in previous McLarens, making getting in and out of the 570S that bit easier. The reduced levels of athleticism needed to climb aboard will doubtless appeal to those lucrative segments of the buying public who may have allowed their waistline to grow in line with their wealth. Butterfly doors, opening wide and high, further aid ingress and egress, along with helping to draw attention to the nice fast car that you happen to own.

The interior is, again, perhaps the best that the company has fashioned to date. Simple without being austere, it gives the driver all they need, without confounding them with an overwhelming mass of switches, buttons and knobs. The suspension and gearbox mode controls are neatly packaged between the seats, while the tall central sat-nav-and-everything-else screen fills the central bulk head.

In a welcome move, the on-board computer interface is easier to use than in earlier models. If there is one criticism, it’s the screen’s position. It sits too low under the central air vents and requires a long glance away from the road in order to read.

The main dashboard does away with physical instrumentation, displaying all the required information via computer screen. The dash changes appearance depending on driving mode, with the fastest track setting showing a read out akin to a single-seater racing car, complete with warning lights indicating the optimum time to change gears.

In many ways, it’s a good thing the gear change prompts are quite so clear, particularly as the 570S has a lot of them to choose from. The McLaren seven-speed semi-automatic dual clutch gearbox comes as standard, aside from full automatic mode, changes are ordered through the large rocker-levers set either side of the chunky steering wheel.

Either paddle can be used to change up or down – pull the right lever to go up a gear, push the right lever to change down. For reverse, it’s the same, except on the left.

The gear actuators feel well-machined and sturdy, while also delivering a positive action, though the “click” accompanying each shift can get a little wearying. While it’s reminiscent of the sound of an especially flimsy computer mouse button, it is about the only thing in this £140,000 car that seems cheap and nasty.

Overall, the box performs well in pretty much every driving situation. At speed, the cogs are swapped more quickly and smoothly than any human hands could manage. Engage fully automatic mode for crawling through stop-start city traffic and it’s silky smooth, with none of the neck-wrenching jerks of the earlier, less sophisticated dual-clutch systems.

This is a car designed for the road, rather than the track, and comes with a suspension to match. Over the lumps and bumps of real-world tarmac, it delivers a sure-footed ride, soaking up the punishment without upsetting the occupants or the tyre contact patches. When it comes to preventing excessive lean in the bends, the 570S does without the clever hydraulic anti-roll system found on the 650S, returning instead to good old fashioned anti-roll bars.

Despite its suppleness, the car changes direction almost instantly. The steering is highly direct and gives good tactile feedback through the wheel. Its designers have opted for hydraulic power assisted steering, rather than the trendy electromechanical variety. While the old fashioned system needs a bit more power – and therefore consumes a bit more fuel – the sacrifice in terms of the enviro-numbers is worth it when it comes to the car’s performance.

The car’s agility is partly due to its clever suspension and partly due to its weight saving carbon fibre tub and aluminium body panels. At around 1,440 kilos, the McLaren is some 200kg lighter than the similarly priced Porsche 911 Turbo S and 150kg less than an Audi R8 V10.

Less mass, of course, also means more go. While the 570S shares the same 3.8-litre V8 turbo as its go-faster 650S, it produces around 80bhp less. The resulting 560bhp, though, is still plenty enough to move that tiny handful of kilogrammes very smartly indeed. In fact, 0-62mph comes in at just 3.2 seconds, with a top speed of 205mph available, given plenty of road and a dearth of patrol cars.

The engine revs all the way to 7,800rpm, with most of the fun happening at the hysterical end of the dial. While the power delivery is smooth and progressive lower down the range, there is a hint of turbo lag at just below 4,000. Keeping the engine in its sweet spot requires a lot of tugging on those gear levers though.

The exhaust sound is also a little on the muted side – pleasing, rather than gloriously raucous. Its low-key soundtrack is actually a testament to just how efficiently the turbos recover wasted energy, neatly recycling it back into the engine.

Carbon ceramic brakes come as standard, providing their trademark nosebleed-inducing stopping power. The brake pedal is set very firm, giving little movement as the pressure and retarding forces increase. Just a hint more pedal travel, however, might have boosted the connection sensation when it comes to braking. Despite this, the brakes go on and come off progressively and predictably, allowing a smooth blending of stopping into turning.

The combination of its easy ride, progressive stop and eager-to-please Border Collie levels of handling obedience all combine to create a tremendous sense of trust in the car. You feel you can quite assuredly press on with the fast driving you crave, confident that this McLaren will stay on the black stuff.

The fact that the 570S sits on slightly narrower tyres than its stable mates also helps. The overall levels of grip, while, tremendous, are not overwhelming. In fact, the car goes very fast around corners, but not so fast as to be totally terrifying.

This sense of driving super-heroism is, of course, backed up by the on-board electronic co-pilot, ever ready to take the edge of any wayward control inputs, while keeping that bodywork the same shape as when it left the factory.

It’s worth remembering that most supercars spend most of their time being driven at far less than their flat out speeds. Thankfully, this is where the 570S really comes into its own. It’s fun to drive fairly fast, and perfectly relaxing to drive at normal cruising speeds or even when crawling between city traffic lights.

Granted, it’s slower than a 650S, but it’s also a much nicer place to sit, especially during the 98.5 percent of the time when it’s not going flat out. The forgiving suspension makes the ride comfortable for long journeys, while the exhaust note is sufficiency muffled at lower revs to just about allow for normal-level conversation.

Overall, this is perhaps the most likeable McLaren to date. It’s not the fastest. It’s not the most technically sophisticated. By lightening up on all that single-minded, po-faced over-achiever speed at all costs zeal, though, the company has made a car you’d actually want to spend more time with, rather than one you’re simply happy to admire from a respectable distance.

McLaren
570S Coupe

Engine: 3.8 litre V8 twin-turbo

Power: 562bhp @7,400rpm
Torque: 443lb ft @ 5000-6500rpm

Transmission: Seven-speed dual clutch semi automatic through rear-wheel drive

0-62mph: 3.2 seconds

Top speed: from £142,000 (HK$1.6 million plus tax)

Above: If it looks good from the front, it looks even better from the back