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Peugeot RCZ diary notes: Ben Whitworth borrows it for a month
In a ploy to try and wean me off my Caterham 160and prepare me for life after the Seven’s departure, CJ Hubbard suggested I borrow his Peugeot for a bit. A very powerful front-drive coupe is about as far away as you could get from a balsa-light rear-drive roadster. About the only thing they have in common are blown engines and two doors. Oh wait… the Seven doesn’t even have
I’ll be frank - I loathed the Peugeot for the first few days. It felt colossal and thick-ankled, inert and leaden. The steering wheel writhed and wriggled under acceleration. The front diff kept swerving me offline when powering through corners. The kept seating position made me feel like I was perched on a lifesaver’s laddered chair. The engine’s soundtrack was either drone or rasp. Visibility was appalling. Fuel economy was terrifying. So I gave it another week, ditched my innate subjectivity and tried hard to adopt a balanced approach. Here’s what I have scribbled into the back of the Peugeot’s logbook, a mini road test:
The styling From some angles, the Peugeot looks terrific – muscular, snouty and aggressive – but from others it looks decidedly awkward, dumpy and under-tyred. There are some lovely touches, like the beautiful weave in the carbonfibre roof, and the way its double-bubble profile is picked up by the rear screen. But then you look at the sweeping roof arches and wonder why they decided to undo this expensive exoticness by covering them in horribly cheap matt plastic...
The cabin After almost a year in the Caterham, getting into the Peugeot was a revelation. For a start it had doors. Doors with windows, no less! A leather-wrapped dashboard, climate control, windscreen wipers that worked, a pumping Bluetooth radio that synced with my phone… I felt like a thirsty Oliver Reed winning a drink-all-you-can competition. But – and you guessed there was a but coming – there was a price to pay for these goodies. Those massive A-pillars seriously hinder cornering visibility, forcing you into a weird mid-corner head bobbing-action to see round them. At junctions they could hide an articulated truck, let alone a motorbiker or cyclist. The ergonomics drove me mad. The pop-up sat-nav screen is so far away you need ET’s finger to operate it, and the centre console and chronograph-like instruments look like they were designed by two different design studios. No matter how I adjusted the chunky steering wheel and heavily bolstered seat, I couldn’t seem to get comfortable. I think it has to do with the positioning and angle of the pedals. Pity, because the accelerator and brake pedals are perfectly spaced for rolling your foot off one and onto the other.
On the road I was surprised by how intrusive the torque steer is in first, second and third. On anything less than smooth and straight blacktop, the front wheels would jerk the car’s nose all over the shop. Unsurprising when the blown 1598cc engine’s hefty 243lb ft drops its bomb at 1900rpm, but disconcerting, even when you know it’s going to happen. It’s a corking powerplant, though: rev-happy, muscular and mustard keen, and matched by the brilliant brakes and the long but mechanically precise throw of the gearlever.
The Peugeot Sport diff I quickly got my head around the diff-enhanced cornering dynamics. You have to get the car hooked into the corner right from the off, and let the mechanical diff keep the nose tucked tightly into the apex. Take full advantage of it and the Peugeot can be hustled across the scenery at a terrific pace. And while it is a fast car, it never feels holy-crap fast, deceptively camouflaging its pace with surprising refinement and – here’s the bad bit – a disappointingly soft and fluffy throttle response.
Ride quality What isn’t soft is the ride quality. After the Seven’s compliancy, the abrupt harshness of the Peugeot’s suspension set-up was a bit of a shock. I know it’s fitted with trick dampers, tweaked geometry and wider tracks that probably shine on the track, but my commute to work is along scarred and acned West Sussex roads with off-camber corners and patchwork surfacing. On these roads the RCZ R ride quality feels out of sorts. It’s way too stiff for fast and relaxed cruising, and when you amp it up a bit, that lack of compliancy means the car crashes and bashes from one intrusion to the next. So you either grit your teeth and get your chiropractor on speed-dial, or you back off.
Verdict After a month in the Peugeot, I couldn’t help thinking what a superb car it would be if it was rear-wheel drive. It would allow you to fully exploit its lovely engine and rid the steering of its torque corruption. Dial back the suspension, sharpen the throttle and you’d have a truly compelling dynamic package. But that’s a bit like wishing the Porsche 911 GT3 was £18k, carried four in comfort and returned 45mpg. It’s never going to happen. Which means I’m not ever going to want an RCZ R in my garage. For £32k, I'd take a nearly new Cayman. Or a Caterham Seven 160, with £10k in my pocket…
By Ben Whitworth
Month 6 running a Peugeot RCZ R: our Pug gets a flattened nose
Things you don’t want to see on an email from the office: Do you know about the damage to your RCZ? Er, no. I don’t actually. What? Sadly it seems that at some point between the Peugeot’s keys leaving my hands and me receiving the dreaded email – about four days – someone driving something red has been appreciating the R’s front bumper a little too closely. Happens, I guess, although it wouldn’t have killed the culprit to own up rather than just running away. The RCZ is away getting repaired (and having a whining noise investigated) now. I miss it.
By CJ Hubbard
Month 5 running a Peugeot RCZ R: which is the best driver's car - the R or the 208 GTi 30th?
Could the RCZ R be the best car Peugeot has ever made? Depends on how you define ‘best’, I suppose, and I’m saddened to admit I’ve never driven a 205 GTi. But a special edition version of the 208 GTi, built to celebrate 30 years of that previous French fancy, has recently crossed my path. Looks a little bit cake-like itself, with that two-tone ‘Coupe Franche’ paint job.
The 208 GTi 30th and the RCZ R are currently the only road-going Peugeots to advertise the involvement of the Peugeot Sport race department. And by advertise, I mean the words ‘Peugeot Sport’ are actually written on the door sill scuff protectors and the front brake calipers (though these are, in fact, made by Brembo). As a current RCZ R custodian, I was really intrigued to see how the two would compare. Especially given the homage to legend of the smaller car. If anything is going to unseat the R as the Peugeot of the moment, it’s surely this jumped-up little shopping cart.
A quick blat round the local B-roads didn’t seem quite the ticket, and with the American adventure at the end of last year (CAR, February 2015) having left me with a habitual hankering for roadside burgers in sympathetic places, thoughts turned to London’s Ace Cafe and its nocturnal gearhead proclivities. And what do you know, the 208’s week-long visit just happened to coincide with the monthly French Classic and Performance night. No brainer, right? Our James had never been to the Ace before, so he volunteered as second driver and I handed him the keys to the RCZ for the trip down from Peterborough to London’s old North Circular, where the Ace has been situated – in various guises – since 1938.
Immediate impressions of the 208 aren’t so good. Compared to the low-slung, c-o-g depth charge that is Peugeot’s funkily cab-forward coupe, the GTi feels too tall and roly-poly – despite the beefed-up suspension and widened track of the 30th. The steering and, in particular, the gearshift also seem fragile and flimsy in the supermini, a surprise given how meaty and mechanical they are in the R. Please don’t tell me Peugeot has fluffed this up. I remind myself the two cars are not only very different pieces of machinery, they are also some £10,000 and 61bhp apart. And, as ever, that it’s best not to jump straight to conclusions.
Yes, the 208 feels tall and, yes, it is most definitely daft to look at, but once you’ve adjusted the little grey cells for that it begins to show more of the R’s fighting spirit. Leading the way is the 30th’s proper limited-slip differential, the exact same torque-sensing Torsen unit that’s fitted to the front axle of the RCZ. Add in the darty directness of the tiny steering wheel, and corners are playtime. Even if those corners are roundabouts in rush hour. The cut and thrust of London traffic means you miss the RCZ’s extra oomph less, too, as the 205bhp 1.6 THP in the 208 is still mighty in the mid-range.
After grabbing a burger and admiring some gnarly old Clios (there wasn’t a massive turn out, to be honest), James drives it back, and declares it everything he’d hoped the standard 208 GTi would be. I’m not quite so smitten, but it’s hard to ignore the much-improved infotainment system and just how well Peugeot Sport has judged the 208’s ride – firm but far more forgiving than the RCZ’s, it deals with torn-up tarmac very capably. But somehow it still feels like a toy, while the R has the air of a true future classic.
By CJ Hubbard
Month 4 running a Peugeot RCZ R: how practical is the RCZ?
Driving home for Christmas? Not quite. This lot represents the kind gifts to my parents on the occasion of their 40th wedding anniversary. The problem with springing a surprise party being the olds turning up in a car with no luggage capacity whatsoever, which meant temporarily storing the booty in my flat until I was able to deliver it to them in the Peugeot.
Good job I was travelling solo, as the plants (which miraculously survived my custodianship) were never going to fit in the Peugeot’s shallow but otherwise generous rump. Is a full car a happy car? Well, everything made it from Hertfordshire to Dorset in one piece, so no complaints. The firm suspension means flat cornering, so I didn’t even come close to getting a branch in the face. Bonus.
Speaking of filling up, I’ve been experimenting with octane ratings. Sort of. Despite the ridiculousness of getting 266bhp from a 1.6, the filler flap suggests 95 Ron is perfectly acceptable – and by association that I’ve been throwing money away on 98 for no reason. Dropping the premium stuff doesn’t seem to make the car noticeably slower. But there does seem to be more of a swell towards the power peak, suggesting a slight reduction in the spread of torque yet making higher revs more of an event…
By CJ Hubbard
Month 3 running a Peugeot RCZ R: why the limited slip diff makes for brilliant handling
I finished last month’s report on the RCZ R with a mention of the mechanical limited-slip diff. I’m here today to tell you that it’s now making me nervous. I fear that it might just be lulling me into a false sense of security, and at some point soon I’m going to come massively unstuck. Because at the moment, even amidst the winter grimness, it is so remarkably unflappable that it’s as if this Peugeot doesn’t run on Goodyear Eagle F1 but a special rubber compound concocted by Loctite: the grip the front of this car generates in corners is phenomenal.
That said, as if condescending to ward off this unnerving impression of invulnerability, first-gear wheelspin is never far away and, if you really clod the throttle, straight-line torque steer is always a distinct probability – usually in the direction of the nearest cyclist. Sorry. Blame the big turbocharger under the bonnet. But the way the front end hooks up once you’re already committed to a turn is a little piece of magic every single time, and the faster you go the harder it hugs your chosen line. There’s nothing else currently on sale that combines this tarmac rally car dynamic with anything approaching true physical beauty. This is a coupe that behaves like the very best front-wheel-drive hot hatches, a disconnect that continues to delight.
And don’t just take my word for it; several other CAR staffers have been having a go in the Pug recently. Ben Miller, ditching his M3 for once, returned raving, while Tim and James have also been singing the R’s praises. Perhaps most importantly of all, my girlfriend adores both the way it looks and travelling in it, so much so she’s yet to offer even a whisper of complaint about the ride, which I’m personally beginning to find a little wearing on longer journeys. Firmly controlled with a tendency towards the abrupt is perhaps the fairest way to describe it.
The interior doesn’t generate quite such universal appreciation. Ben was definitely impressed, especially with the fancy R seats, and James likes the leather dash covering and all that red stitching (let’s not jump to any conclusions). But Tim is much less convinced, commenting that the quality is not a patch on premium rivals. For my part I like the detailing – the dial faces, the curiously compelling analogue clock – but am troubled by the slightly compromised ergonomics.
This includes those seats, unfortunately, as the unusual angular squab bolsters poke me right in the thighs. And since someone pointed out a creak from the driver’s side – something to do with the adjuster mechanism, I think – I can’t stop hearing it. There’s also an unusual high-pitched whine that’s most apparent at idle. I’m turning the stereo up for now, but some investigation may be required.
These are minor grumbles in the overall scheme of life with Peugeot’s most exotic offering. The performance, the handling and even the fuel economy are proving it a charming companion.
By CJ Hubbard
Month 2 running a Peugeot RCZ R: are those the rear seats?
The RCZ R had only just arrived last month, so we’re still getting to know each other. For all my amusement at the pain it’s going to cause CAR’s photographers, I absolutely love the black paint. Together with the R’s fixed rear wing and bodykit, it helps lend an air of subtle menace to a car some people round here feel is otherwise overly feminine.
There’s not much arguing about the RCZ’s pitiful excuse for a pair of rear seats, though. Not that I have a family to worry about. Instead I’m appreciating the way they fold flat to create a longer load floor – resulting in the Peugeot instantly being pressed into service as a parts carrier for my other car, a somewhat well used Mk1 Mazda MX-5. Bit of a squeeze, but you can get four refurbed 14-inch wheels with new tyres into the RCZ’s boot. And you thought it was impractical!
But the best thing about this Peugeot is driving it. Heavy turbocharging means the torque-sensing slippy diff has its work cut out as the weather turns wetter, but my god there’s satisfaction to be had giving it some stick. A delicious few months lie ahead.
By CJ Hubbard
Month 1 running a Peugeot RCZ R: the introduction
I don’t know. I’ve been at CAR six weeks and already I’m upsetting the photographers. But honestly, the unavoidable fact that this Peugeot RCZ R is hyper-reflective Nera Black is absolutely nothing to do with me: it was on its way to the magazine before I was. So this is two hellos, in a sense.
Turns out the paint is nothing to do with anyone else here, either, as my RCZ is not a press-fleet vehicle but an ex-marketing demonstrator. Which explains how it had already covered 344 miles when it turned up on the doorstep. Days of being on display and repeatedly polished presumably also account for the minor swirl marks it’s accumulated on some areas of the paintwork. What was that about black cars and high maintenance? I fear I’m about to find out.
Bugger. Seems I’m also instantly painting myself as something of a moaning Minnie, and I’m not at all – mostly (is this the time to point out that the RCZ doesn’t have DAB radio? Maybe later, then…). I’m actually massively excited to be running this car, which mixes the common or garden Peugeot image with a frisson of the spectacular and a substantial helping of genuine capability. Or possibly madness.
There are very few cars on sale that offer more bhp per litre than the R’s 266bhp 1.6-litre turbo. I’m writing this just three days after its arrival, so erring on the side of caution, haven’t exactly been making the most of it. But now I’ve had a quick flick through the manual and discovered no mention of any running-in period I’ll be correcting this oversight forthwith. Previous encounters suggest the official 5.9sec 0-62mph time hardly does the in-gear acceleration justice; I’m Teflon-coating my licence at the weekend.
Then there’s the chassis, thoroughly overhauled for the R by Peugeot Sport, in the racing arm’s first overt involvement with a production road car. That the Peugeot Sport team had a slightly different take on the way the RCZ should behave is obvious if you look at the details of the suspension changes. While the front springs are 10% stiffer, the rear springs are 44% stiffer, and though the rear anti-roll bar is thicker, the front anti-roll is slimmer. Thus a pronounced shift in balance, front to rear. This, plus all that power being delivered to the front wheels alone via a proper limited-slip differential, should prove highly entertaining as we move into winter.
Validating its status as the range-topper, standard kit includes satellite navigation, a leather-covered dash with red stitching, some fancy leather and alcantara seats, dual-zone climate control and enough automation that I haven’t yet had to touch the switches for the lights or the wipers. How terribly modern.
I don’t have much room left to talk about options, but that’s okay because the only extras fitted to this £32,000 Peugeot comprise the £520 metallic paint we’ve already covered and a glamorous £1360 carbonfibre roof – as if that provocative shape needed any more attention. With this and the accompanying matte black cant rails, it looks fit for Hotblack Desiato (look it up!).
I’ve also not had the best of starts with the RCZ’s sat-nav (the ‘fastest’ route from Gatwick to Cambridge is straight through London? Really?), which seems appropriate. It’s not getting hot in here, is it?
Stay tuned for more regular updates in this Peugeot RCZ R long-term test review blog here.
By CJ Hubbard
2016 Dodge Viper ACR come to cherish the myth. This American super sports car is handmade, pushing the boundaries of legally being able to wander the streets . Other Viper models produced to this day among the most powerful street racers , the Viper ACR .
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Dodge engineers have developed the Viper 's aerodynamic structure. During the test, the Dodge Viper ACR while speeding 177 mph in 2016 , 1 ton " downforce ", that has managed to achieve power sticking to the road.
Dodge Viper ACR 2016 with 8.4 -liter engine
The new 2016 Viper ACR models , in the heart of volume of 8.4 liters , capable of producing 645 hp and 600 lb ft that is capable of producing about 814 Nm of torque carries a V10 engine . Viper ACR exhaust vents , side mounted to lower the output pressure . It delivers the power of the new super sports racer six speed manuel gearbox wheels.
Toyota has announced that the redesigned Yaris WRC car phenomenon in the 90's.
Japanese automotive giant Toyota, produced in the 90s , but then they had to be designed from the WRC model açıkladı.yeni Stopping production is again on the agenda WRC since 2017 will start to appear on the runway.
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WRC is in the brake system will be different , land on the runway of 300 mm , while the asphalt runway 335 mm discs at the kullanacak.kaput which will have 1.6 liter engine WCR will be the 300 hp of power and 420 Nm of torque üretecek.6 drive system 4 wheel to speed gearbox to be found .
The new 488 GTB is Ferrari’s replacement for the 458 Italia, which is a bit of a big deal: the 458 remained top of its class some five years after launch.
The 488 is essentially a very thorough evolution of the 458, so you might expect Maranello to simply find another gear and power away from the opposition. But there’s one big sticking point: after years of naturally aspirated V8s that screamed to as high as 9000rpm, the GTB adopts a downsized and twin-turbocharged V8. And this, more than anything, will be crucial in how the new model is received.
This is Ferrari’s second attempt at turbocharging in the modern era – the California T was the first since 1987’s seminal F40 and while the folding hardtop’s engine is technically impressive, it can’t match the excitement of the old V8. There’ll be jitters at Maranello, and no mistake.
Let me guess: more power, more torque, lower C02, better mpg?
Exactly. The 458 Italia’s 4497cc V8 made 562bhp at 9000rpm, 398lb ft at 6000rpm, 24mpg and 275g/km (or 597bhp in ultimateSpeciale guise, the rest of the figures remaining the same – with the optional stop/start HELE system). The 488 GTB’s smaller 3902cc twin-turbo V8 ramps that up to 661bhp at 8000rpm, 561lb ft at 3000rpm, with 25mpg and 260g/km. That’s a helluva big jump in performance. And the new car is claimed to be some 43kg lighter than the Italia, its kerbweight coming in at 1445kg.
So, everything improves, but note that the peak power is delivered 1000rpm lower than the Italia, and that the massive wodge of torque is on tap way down low. There is, however, a caveat here: Ferrari has cleverly engineered the engine to unleash the full 561lb ft at 3000rpm only in seventh gear, parcelling the torque out in lower gears to encourage drivers to chase the redline and, therefore, approximate the rush of good ol’ natural aspiration.
But it’s just the California engine dropped into the 488, right?
Well, the two units are closely related, but there are also some big differences: the California has 47cc less outright capacity, revs 500rpm lower at 7500rpm all-in and falls short in the performance stakes by a whopping 109bhp and not so whopping 4lb ft. The 488 GTB's V8 gets new con-rods, pistons, crank and cams, and new cylinder heads with thinner walls for larger cooling channels. New twin-scroll IHI turbos feature ball-bearing shafts to reduce friction, while the compressor wheels are lightweight titanium-aluminium alloy, reducing turbine inertia by 50%.
Ferrari says the engine responds to throttle inputs in 0.8sec, an improvement over the California T’s 1.1sec, but down from the 458 Italia’s 0.6sec.
What else is different compared with the 458 Italia?
While the basic silhouette remains – indeed, the roof and glasshouse are identical – there are some big alterations to the bodywork, particularly the LaFerrari-style front bumper, the twin bonnet vents, and larger twin side intakes ('base-bleed intakes', in Ferrari-speak), all of which cater to the turbocharged engine’s appetite for cooling air – indeed the rear track is 40mm wider to accommodate the turbos and intercoolers on either side of the V8. Along with a new aerodynamic underbody with vortex generators – two paths that start at the front axle line, and curve out behind the front wheels – downforce is said to increase by 50% to 325kg at 250km/h compared with the Italia.
The seven-speed dual-clutch gearbox is carried over from the Italia, but the ratios are ‘4-5%’ longer (though seventh is shorter than the California’s cruisey top gear) and the already fast shifts become faster yet again than the Italia – 30% faster upshifts, 40% faster downshifts; for reference, the Speciale was 20% and 44% faster than the Italia, respectively. Carbon-ceramic brakes are borrowed from LaFerrari, while the suspension is lightly evolved with a riff on the Speciale damper set-up.
Side-Slip Angle control returns, an advanced kind of stability-control sport setting, which integrates with the traction control and E-diff as before, but now also includes the adaptive dampers and is claimed to be less intrusive – a good thing, as the old system was better at managing the small slip angles you might generate while chasing a lap time on track, than allowing you to play through tighter, slower turns.
Inside, there are new satellite control clusters and instrument panel, plus new graphics and interface for infotainment system – the reality is it looks and feels much the same, despite the updates. Thankfully, the plasticky old key that looked more Fiat than Ferrari has finally – finally – been replaced.
What’s the new 2015 Ferrari 488 GTB like to drive?
Do you want the good news or the good news? Well, the good news is that the 488 GTB still essentially feels like the brilliant 458, and the switch to turbocharging has been carried out much more effectively than on the California.
Response is excellent, lag non-existent, and the mid-range is far, far stronger than the 458. Variable Torque Management means you don’t feel tempted to short-shift, but to wind the engine right out. The new V8 sounds great, with a gruff flat-plane crank idle, and a guttural mid-range underscored with a light whistle of boost. Both the sound and the delivery encourage you to chase high revs, which is very satisfying, and when you do that the delivery feels far fuller and richer than a straining high-rpm California.
The precision with which you could play with the 458 Italia’s rear end has also survived the switch to forced induction. I feared lag and mushy throttle response would make balancing the 488 GTBbeyond the rear tyres’ limits a far trickier experience, but the reality is it’s easier than ever, and you can really sense even the tiniest adjustment in right-foot attitude when the tyres are spinning.
On track, at first, I hit the limiter a few times, because it does take some time to recalibrate from the old 9000rpm power peak and, no, the new engine doesn’t sound as good when you really strike the high notes, but I’d say the substantial extra performance is a decent trade. And, look, this isn’t a dull-sounding engine. Gearshifts are said to be even quicker, and that certainly feels the case, but what’s more noticeable is the thud of engagement when you’re driving hard and you pull for the next upshift, perhaps a result of all that extra torque. It’s not brutal, it’s just a very mechanical feeling, one that adds to the sense of interaction.
On track you’ll notice more understeer than in the hardcore 458 Speciale – with its stickier tyres and stiffer suspension, remember – but the trade-off is a far more pliant car on the road; the 488 is incredibly supple, and yet still offers fantastic body control for road driving. Keep it in the default firmer setting if you must, but that’s best left for the track.
The steering ratio remains the same as the madly quick 458, but it feels like there’s more weight and consistency to me – though not the feel of the Speciale.
Ferrari vs McLaren, who wins?
Well, it’s a bit early for a twin test, but Woking will be watching the 488 GTB’s progress closely. McLaren claims 641bhp at 7250rpm, 500lb ft at 6000rpm, 0-62mph in 3.0sec and 207mph for the 650S. So the GTB makes 20bhp and 61lb ft more, revs 750rpm higher, and is said to record similar performance data. The McLaren 675 LT gets back on terms (more power, still less torque), but is limited to 500 units and will be more comparable to a hardcore Speciale-style version of the 488 GTB. What should we guess? 700bhp and similar torque to the GTB for that?
Verdict
We all feared that the switch to turbo power would scupper the 488 GTB, leaving the 458 Italia representing both the benchmark and the end of an era. The reality is quite different: the new 3.9-litre V8’s performance, response and sound make it a highly engaging engine, one that pairs incredibly well with the 488 GTB’s extremely playful chassis – you can still intimately sense the boundary between grip and slip, and quickly feel comfortable taking liberties. This is not a car that intimidates, despite its prodigious power and torque.
But the fact is, the 488 GTB works very well even when you don’t act the hero or exploit its performance to the full. It’s still a very tactile car when driven well below its limit, and combines that interactivity with high, for the most part, levels of comfort. Our only complaint is the sports seats in our car – the ones with the cut-outs behind your back – were too firm and unsupportive. If you’re using your 488 GTB as often as it deserves to be, I’d pay very careful attention to your choice of seat.
This is a car that could’ve gone so wrong. Instead, it feels genuinely exciting to tell you Ferrari has got it right.
Specs
| Price when new: | £183,974 |
| On sale in the UK: | Now |
| Engine: | 3902cc 32v twin-turbo V8, 661bhp @ 8000rpm, 561lb ft @ 3000rpm (seventh gear) |
| Transmission: | Seven-speed dual-clutch auto, rear-wheel drive |
| Performance: | 3.0sec 0-62mph, 206+mph, 25mpg, 260g/km (with optional HELE stop/start system) |
| Weight / material: | 1370kg (dry) / aluminium |
| Dimensions (length/width/height in mm): | 4568/1952/1213mm |
Autobiography is Land Rover shorthand for comfy and well-appointed. And while there’s truth in the ‘drawing room on wheels’ cliché, Range Rover luxury runs deeper than a bit of lacquered timber. Really it’s about a wonderful sense of serene detachment.
Seen Fury, the Gladiator-in-tanks Brad Pitt vehicle that respected historical accuracy in the same way that Sebastian Vettel observes team orders? A repeated motif was the clanging down of the Sherman’s hatch; cue adrenalin, ricocheting shells and tracked cavalry charges across rain-lashed French fields. The Range Rover equivalent – climbing into the leather-bound commander’s throne and pulling the tall, weighty door to – signals quite the opposite: the immediate dislocation of the outside world and all its noise, stress and tumult.
Range Rover Autobiography on test
Long one of the Range Rover’s defining virtues, this gladdening automotive isolationism is ramped up to 11 in lavish Autobiography spec, and with the muscular yet muted 5.0-litre supercharged petrol V8 in the engine bay. The top of Range Rover’s specification tree, Autobiography brings still-more adjustment to the beautifully upholstered seats (22-way, plus massage), various bits of Autobiography-specific trim (illuminated tread-plates, embossed seats, smart carpets), increased tech in the form of Land Rover’s InControl Apps system, blind-spot monitoring and reverse traffic detection and, on the supercharged V8, a set of spectacular diamond-turned 22in wheels.
The Ranger Rover’s is a remarkable interior, a genuinely mood-lifting place of light (the sliding panoramic glass roof, a no-cost option, is the size of a patio door), space and a luxuriousness born not of deeply carpeted, wood-paneled claustrophobia but of clean, uncluttered minimalism. It’s an ergonomic triumph, the centre-console in particular, which manages to play home to myriad controls, from Terrain Response to air-suspension ride height adjustment, while also retaining an admirably Bauhaus absence of clutter.
Only the low-res and disappointingly clumsy touchscreen interface lets the side down. You’ll get there in the end, whether you’re programming the sat-nav (voice control is an effective alternative to prodding in mangled postcodes) or changing station, but nothing’s quite as intuitive as it should be, nor as one-touch effortless. Volvo’s pretty fabulous new XC90 cockpit, with its iPad-esque interface, shows the Range Rover up here.
A supercharged 5.0-litre V8 – you sure?
It’s the brave choice, admittedly. More popular are the 3.0-litre diesel V6 or the 4.4-litre diesel V8, for obvious reasons; a claimed 40.9mpg and 33.6mpg respectively. But the force-of-nature petrol V8 is virtually flawless bar its thirst. RR claims 22.1mpg on the combined cycle, and when your fuel gauge is showing a third of a tank but your remaining range just 126 miles, you know the car’s six-figure list price is just the beginning, rather than the end, of its fiscal burden.
But you won’t care once aboard and behind the wheel. The V8 roars into life with just the right amount of drama – it’s a sophisticated noise but impressive enough to raise a smile. Twirl into Drive, drop your armrest and move away with a toe-prod. Ease stealthily up to speed or gun for 60mph as quickly as possible (5.4 seconds) to an orchestra of melodic mechanical hard labour.
Find the space and the engine’s turn of speed is deeply impressive, temporarily rendering the RR’s weight and size inconsequential so long as your foot’s mashed into the carpet. With 503bhp, the temptation is there to charge around like a wild rhino, at first at least, but you soon calm down, revel in the engine’s immaculate manners and its broad, satisfyingly meaty delivery (461lb ft from 2500rpm to 5500rpm). Needless to say, smile-widening acceleration is only ever a moment away, regardless of the virtual needle’s position on the digital instruments.
Like piloting a runaway train then?
Far from it. Get clumsy and the Range Rover’s composure will give way to a little heave and roll, but the rest of the time the car’s body control is impressive. And the ride quality is sublime. The steering isn’t the last word in tactility, but it lets you put the car where you want it. Handy, given the size of the thing.
Verdict
A Range Rover in this spec is capable of generating quite astounding levels of smugness. You look down on the rest of the world. You can effortlessly travel every kind of road, in absolute comfort, be it a manicured, jet-black A-road of pristine tarmac or an unpaved track so rough it’s littered with stranded mountain goats. And should you need to, you can pile on speed like a sports car.
An indulgence then, the V8 supercharged Autobiography, and an unforgivable one in many eyes I’m sure. But for its otherworldly ability to remove all fatigue, stress and jeopardy from modern road travel, there’s little to touch it.
Specs
| Price when new: | £100,350 |
| On sale in the UK: | Now |
| Engine: | 5.0-litre V8 supercharged, 503bhp @ 6000rpm, 461lb ft @ 2500-5500rpm |
| Transmission: | Eight-speed auto, four-wheel drive |
| Performance: | 5.4sec 0-62mph, 155mph, 22.1mpg, 299g/km CO2 |
| Weight / material: | 2413kg/aluminium |
| Dimensions (length/width/height in mm): | 5199/2220/1840mm |