Mazda MX-5 GT (2012) CAR review

How much? £30,000 On sale in the UK: Not yet - it's a concept Engine: 1999cc 16v four cylinder, ‘over 200bhp’ @ 6500rpm, 144lb ft @ 4800rpm Transmission: Six-speed manual, rear-wheel drive Performance: n/a How heavy / made of? 1173kg/steel How big (length/width/height in mm)? 4020/1720/1245

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Suzuki Swift Sport (2012) long-term test review

By the CAR road test team

Long Term Tests

07 August 2012 09:40

The Swift has now been with us for a few weeks and you can read our full first report in the August 2012 issue of CAR Magazine on sale now. It's proving popular with the CAR team, many of whom remember making the last-generation Swift our car of the year back in 2005.

This latest generation is a tad bigger in every dimension – we're talking stretched by a centimetre or so – so it remains a bijou supermini, which is proving ideal for day-to-day duties. I've yet to resort to family duties in it with children in the back, but I'll be sure to test out the rear accommodation during this test. What I can confirm at this point is it's perfectly comfortable in the front, even for a 6ft 2in lanky driver like me.

There's something pleasingly just-right about the package. In my mag review, I asked whether it was time for a Slow Car movement, in the same vein as the Slow Food movement. One where we don't obsess over horsepower and more of everything. One where we applaud smaller, lighter cars with the emphasis back on the basics. We've seen Mazda succeed with its MX-5 for this very reason, and it looks like the motoring world is equally switching on to the Toyota GT86 and Subaru BRZ twins.

After these first few weeks getting to know the Swift, I'd say we'll end up saying the same about the new 2012 Suzuki Swift Sport. It serves up just enough performance to sate my warm hatch wants. It's small enough to be city-friendly, yet capacious enough for my day-to-day driving. And it's bristling with sportiness – not Usain Bolt 0-60mph obsession, but with a general athleticism borne of its 1045kg kerbweight. It's highly chuckable and you can extend it further than a full-bore hot hatch at lower speeds.

Less, so far, really is more.

By Tim Pollard

Well, that was one of the easiest new-car specs we've ever done. The Suzuki Swift Sport - soon to be of this parish - doesn't have many options, you see. None at all, in fact. It's literally down to colour.

Visit the Suzuki.co.uk car configurator and you're faced with a modest five paint options. We chose Silky Silver Metallic for its photogenic qualities and, besides, we've kind of moved on from our silver ennui of a few years ago. A small car like the Swift just photographs well in bright metallics, and it appealed more than the white, black, blue and red hues.

So apart from choosing the colour, there was nothing else to do while speccing CAR Magazine's new Swift Sport long-termer. Standard equipment is pretty generous for a £13,499 warm hatch - and the following is fitted as standard:

• Five airbags (twin front, side and driver's knee)
• Cruise control
• Electric front windows and mirrors
• HID projector headlamps with washers
• Automatic lights
• USB socket with iPod compatibility
• 17in alloy wheels
• Rear privacy glass
• Keyless entry and ignition
• Bluetooth phone integration

That's a good stash of kit for the money - and not too profligate, either. This car is all about simple thrills, so what more would we need on a pared-back warm hatchback?

I can't wait to start running the Suzuki Swift Sport. This car is all about mimimalism: a small price, a small footprint and modest power - but allied to big thrills. I've driven the hatch a few times on shorter road tests and loved its purity of purpose. It's more 1980s than Noughties - so stay tuned for regular updates on CAR's new 1045kg tearaway soon.

By Tim Pollard

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Mini Coupe Cooper SD (2012) long-term test review

By the CAR road test team

Long Term Tests

08 August 2012 09:00

Last month I drove the Mini down to the South of France for the 2012 Mini United, a sprawling weekend-long festival for Mini drivers from around the world. This year’s extravaganza was based around the Paul Ricard circuit in Le Castellet, not far from Aix-En-Provence where we made our base.

For a 1700 mile trip, the Coupe may not strike you as the perfect European tourer, but the Mini relished the role of fast half-pint cruiser. It’s huge boot swallowed out luggage and camera gear without problem, the diesel engine struck a fine balance between economy and performance, the iPod-playing stereo pumped out our retro playlist loud enough to drown out the tiring wind noise from around the top of the doorframes (Supertramp, Hall and Oates, Thin Lizzy and so Depeche Mode, anyone?) and on France’s mirror-smooth network of autoroutes, the Mini rode with a relaxed and flowing gait.
I wasn’t too sure what to expect of the festival. Half of me thought it was going to be a very German affair, one horribly stifled by enforced jollity, but I could not have been more wrong. In the scorching 35degree heat, Le Castellet buzzed with the good will and good vibes of thousands of Mini drivers from all four corners. Young, old, smart, scruffy, bohemian and geeky – the event brought together a truly eclectic crowd united only by their love of all things Mini.

There was a contagious enthusiasm throughout, enhanced by an engaging mix of events – yoga, tightrope walking, track racing and live music – and excellent catering. Think German efficiency with French flair and you’d be on the right path.
While many displays featured original Mini models, there were very few pre-BMW Minis in car park. It seems the relationship between old and new is still chilly. Which is a pity because while it hasn’t been perfect, BMW’s resuscitation of the Mini brand is a lesson in how to use your heritage to power you in to the future. I think they-don’t-build-them-like-they-used-to detractors that harp on about how Minis aren’t small and have lost the Issigonis spirit suffer from acute commercial myopia. I’ll get off my hobbyhorse now…

The Mini United trip to France was a delight. A car in its elements, superb en-route food and drink, fine weather and excellent roads. So it was with almost comedy timing that we arrived back in the UK to cold and wet weather, a clogged M20, lousy Clacket Lane catering – and the Mini’s unforgiving thump and bump ride reminding me how out of sync this car’s suspension set-up is with our roads. In four days we covered 1685.5 miles in total, economy was 42.4mpg, and we clocked up a 70.7mph average speed.

By Ben Whitworth 

Yesterday, after a fortnight’s break, I got back behind the wheel of the Mini. I’d spent the last two weeks on not so much as a holiday but on a rather enthusiastic DIY extravaganza that took in insulating and flooring the loft, putting up new fencing and a myriad of minor jobs around the house and in the garden. So while the Mini’s boot is pretty big, I had to rely on the family Volvo V70 to lug about rolls of loft insulation, fence panels and posts, sheets of MDF and vats of paint. Which meant the dirty Mini sat silently and ignored in a corner of the driveway for 15 days.

Getting it back on to the road as I headed back to work was a bit of a revelation. It may not have turned a wheel for a bit, but the Coupe felt fresh and raring to go from the moment its diesel engine thrummed into life. It felt faster than I remember, punching harder in the mid-range, spinning more keenly to its redline and scything through corners with an appetite that verged on the rabid. All the driver touch-points – steering, brakes, gearshift and throttle – felt ultra responsive and in tune with each other, working together to create a seriously appealing dynamic unity. A cracking drive, in other words.

There were a few beneficial factors here, it must be said. It was a gorgeous morning - warm, dry and still. And as I had a made a pretty early start, the snaking West Sussex roads were mercifully free of traffic. So not exactly a motoring epiphany – more of a subtle shift in appreciation of the Coupe’s qualities – but enough to make me feel a lot warmer towards this flawed Mini. Oh, and after 18,746 miles, the central display went into overdrive and demanded the car be serviced.
I still stand by my main criticisms of the Coupe – the ride is uncompromisingly hard and abrupt, the diesel engine too vocal and the visibility is too limited. I won’t mention the looks, because I was sitting in the car – if you’re having a superb time behind the wheel of car on a brilliant bot of road, does it matter if you’re car looks like it’s been badly beaten by the ugly stick? Not really…

By Ben Whitworth

Everyone that has been a passenger in the Mini has quickly commented on how hard and unyielding the ride is. Yes, I know the Coupe is pitched as the sportiest model in the Mini range after the hotshoe GP, but an unyieldingly harsh ride quality doesn’t automatically deliver sporting dynamics, something many manufacturers can’t get their head around.

So here’s the good news. On ‘standard’ Continental Contisport 3 205/45 R17 tyres – ie non-runflats – the Coupe’s ride quality has significantly improved. The brittle jaggedness that had the Mini crashing and thumping over every intrusion on runflats has been rounded off. There’s a welcome degree of compliance and give in the way the suspension now absorbs ruts and ripples. Yes, the ride can still only be described as very firm but it’s now less aggressive and harsh.
The handling hasn’t been adversely affected by this step up in compliance and comfort either. Body control remains exceptional, and the Mini can still be whipped through corners at silly speeds with the slightest flick of the wrist. The Coupe never feeling anything but taut, alert and agile. Superb brakes, too. So if you have the choice, opt for the standard tyres and get a tin of puncture foam. Your spine and filings will thank you.

With the UK being such an important market for the Mini brand, I’m surprised that a hefty chunk of the Coupe’s development didn’t take place over here. If Mini’s engineers could have created a car better equipped at dealing with our crappy craggy roads as well as delivering exceptional handling, I’m convinced we’d see more Coupes on the road.

By Ben Whitworth

Some idiot drove into me last week. The optically-challenged octogenarian obviously didn't see me – the Coupe being tricky to spot being bright red with twinkling daylight running lights and all – because he entered the mini roundabout and tried to drive straight through me. The offside rear took the full brunt of the collision, but despite it sounding like a grenade had detonated in the Coupe’s boot and resulting in the nose of the retiree’s Civic looking mashed and mangled, damage to the Mini was visually superficial. The rear left wheel was deeply scuffed and the black plastic wheelarch lining was lightly scratched. And that was it.

After we swapped details, which took a while as the Honda driver had difficulty juggling his pipe and my pen, I gingerly attempted to complete the rest of my trip home – less than a few hundred yards – at walking pace, fully expecting the car to crab sideways and the cabin to fill with wince-inducing graunching and grinding noises.

There was no such anticipated ruckus and no wayward dynamics. The Mini rode and handled exactly the way it had done before the collision, but I was absolutely livid. The Mini had just been fitted with winter tyres – hence the switch to standard alloys – and was absolutely immaculate after a meticulous valet, but the Honda-Mini interface now meant I wouldn’t be able to drive the Coupe until the damage was repaired and the tracking was realigned.

The next morning I inspected the Mini thoroughly. Apart from the kerbed alloy and marked wheelarch lining, there was nothing I could see or detect that looked out of place. A few slow runs up and down the road further convinced me I would be able to trundle it up to Vines of Guildford – the Mini  bodyshop closest to my office in Godalming – without further damage to the car, myself and the West Sussex and Surrey countryside.

Vines were very good in all respects. I dropped the car off later that week for them to assess and repair. I was offered a courtesy car – something the other driver’s insurance was very keen for me to have – but as I was only a few miles down the road and the job would take a day at most, I took Vines up on their offer to drop and collect me from their premises using their customer shuttle service – a Volkswagen Caravelle driven by an plummy avuncular chap who used to work in advertising. The alloy was replaced, as was the black wheelarch lining and despite the impact, the checked suspension and tracking were found to be fine. All a bit of non-event after a rather dramatic end to a day’s commute.

By Ben Whitworth

Flip through to the comments section of the notebook stashed in the Mini’s cubby and there’s an interesting mix of the good and the not so good.

Let’s tackle what I believe is the Mini’s biggest stumbling block – its looks. I don’t think its cap-backwards proportions work. Not in the slightest. Every time I see that counter-intuitive upward swing of the roofline and the flat and frumpy boot I can’t help thinking that Mini’s design team missed a huge trick. How much cooler would this car look if it had a much lower roofline that flowed tightly over the driver’s head before plummeting down behind the driver’s head to meet the leading edge of the tailgate with kicked-up integrated lip? Imagine the back end of a 1973 911 2.7 RS, and you’ll know what I mean.

Next key issue is the ride quality. Or lack of it. The combination of run-flat rubber and the ultra-stiff set-up of the Mini’s suspension results in a punishingly hard and unforgiving ride that has me wincing and cursing on anything but the smoothest of roads. Rather than being a dynamic aid, the rock-hard ride actually acts as a very effective killjoy, forcing me to back off, rather than push on.

The Mini’s 1995cc twin-scroll turbo engine is gruff, but some of this lack of deportment can be forgiven when it readily delivers such useable dollops of overtaking go. Keep the vocal engine spinning between 1750 and 2700rpm and a chunky 225lb ft of torque is available to rocket-sled the Mini down the road and past slower traffic. And the crisp gearshift quality is a delight with a fine, machined feel to each gear change. Meaty and gutsy brakes add plenty of foot-flat confidence. Pity the hapless front wheels fight and fidget when trying to handle all that muscle.

There are a number of other smaller likes (huge boot, powerful bi-Xenons, good audio system) and as many dislikes (creaky centre console, cheap plastics, poor ergonomics) that I’ll flesh out in my next report, but it’s fair to say that overall, there’s a lot less on the plus side to Coupe ownership than expected. I can think of a lot of other £25k two-door cars I’d rather have in my garage than this one.

By Ben Whitworth

If you read my farewell to the Honda CR-Z you will know that despite its dinky size, it majored on slinky and sleek style, foot-flat feel-good factor and bleeding-edge technology. It was missed the moment the collection man from Honda drove it down my road and out of sight. So any replacement keen to receive the same level of adoration has its work cut out.

Which might explain why there was a distinct pause on the line when road test editor Ben Pulman suggested a Mini Coupe. I love the way BMW has revived the Mini brand, the way it has keenly balanced accessibility and aspiratio,n and the manner in which it has expanded the range. But the Coupe? When I saw the first pictures of the Coupe concept ahead of its debut at the 2009 Frankfurt show I grimaced. Awkward, ungainly and frumpy. It was bound to look better in the metal, wasn’t it? No. It was what Mini people politely call challenging. And the rest of called ugly.

The production version was little different. There was none of the cute pocketability of the hatch, but no replacement aggression or athleticism, either. What was going on with that roofline and that broad flat rump? I had dinner with Gert Hildebrand, head of Mini design and the man responsible for the Coupe, on the eve of the 2009 Frankfurt show. He talked about the importance of not creating a set of models that followed the matryoshka doll school of design – touché Audi – and the need to capitalise on the Mini brand’s outright sporting intentions. Sure, but with a car that looks like Quasimodo wearing a back-to-front peak cap?

Opting for the Cooper SD version was a bit of a no-brainer. While the diesel Coupe loses out on the power front to its petrol-powered cousin (143bhp versus 184bhp) it clouts it for torque (a chunky 225lb ft at 1700rpm against 177lb ft at 1600rpm). And in everyday driving, high levels of low-rev torque is king. A 7.9 second dash to 62mph and a 134mph top speed means the Coupe will feel spectacularly quick after the Honda. And a claimed combined economy of 65.7mpg (the petrol Cooper S returns 44.1) sealed the deal for the diesel.

That was the limit of our input when it came to speccing the Coupe – the rest was left to Mini, who handed over one of the cars directly from the car’s launch. I say that here rather than after describing the Mini, for reasons that will soon become apparent. Our Coupe Cooper SD weighs in at an eyebrow-raising £20,510. That’s a lot more than some other small sporting three-door hatches such as Alfa’s Mito Quadrifoglio (£18,755), the Citroen DS3 DSport Plus (£17,895) Renaultsport’s Clio 200 Cup (£17,120) and the Vauxhall Corsa VXR (£18,900).

To that Mini has added £4,490 worth of the following options…

Chili Pack: £1,865

Media Pack: £1,015

Leather Lounge (Carbon Black): £700

Heated front seats: £215

Sun protection glass: £160

Chrome Line interior: £120

Colour Line, Rooster Red: £110

Auto-dimming rear view mirror: £105

Alloy Wheels in Black: £80

Run-flat tyres: £75

Warning triangle and first aid kit: £45

17" Conical Spoke alloy wheels: No-cost option

Black headlight trims: No-cost option

Interior trim, Piano Black: No-cost option

Interior World, Carbon Black: No-cost option

Roof and mirror caps in black: No-cost option

Sport front seats: No-cost option

Black exterior sports stripes: No-cost option

I'll explain what most of that means next time, but together it brings up YK61LLZ’s on-the-road price to a not insignificant £25,000. Or £350 more than VW’s hot 168bhp Golf GTD. So is this money well spent on a red and black striped three-door diesel hatch? I have six months to find out.

By Ben Whitworth

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Kia Sportage 2.0 CRDi (2012) long-term test review

By the CAR road test team

Long Term Tests

06 August 2012 10:00

Things have quietened down temporarily and the Sportage has been on ‘normal duties’ for the last month with a mixture of fairly routine local and long runs plus some tyre lugging for the rally car preparation. For your info, the Sportage will swallow eight wheels rims and 12 tarmac rally tyres all in one go with nay bother.

I’m still hooked on how relaxing it is to drive, though its fun too with responsive steering and a crisp turn-in. I’ve developed a phobia for car washes having spent eight hours or so polishing whirls out of one of my own cars a few months ago but this one is easy to swab off with a sponge and it’s not equipped with my pet hate, fiddly alloy wheels that are impossible to clean.

There are a couple of criticisms. Although I generally like the layout of the dash, I can’t really see the point of having a second smaller display above the audio system. A bigger one is that they otherwise decent quality is let down by the soft cladding on the dash which is gappy and poorly fitting. But still my biggest bugbear (and not unique to Kia), are the red on black displays which may look great on a designers screen but are at best, murky and indistinct.

With headlights on in any kind of daylight, they dim, whereupon the messages they give vanish from sight altogether. There’s no way I’ve found of turning that feature off, the only solution is to turn the lights off. Note to car designers, not everyone has 20/20 vision and can see flea at 10 paces in the pitch black. Make sure things are visible before you make them pretty.

Other than that the message is all good. I’m working on bringing down the fuel consumption of around the 35mpg mark a(including the towing antics) against a combined figure of 49.6mpg and I’ll let you know how I get on. Later this month It’ll be towing the rally car down to Kent for the first event, no doubt proving yet again that an SUV can double as stylish family car and a serious workhorse with no problem.

By Jesse Crosse

Manufacturers are forever coming up with new niches to ring the changes and what were once just 4x4s have become Sports Utility Vehicle, Sports Activity Vehicles, and now Crossovers. I reckon the Kia Sportage has slipped neatly in to every one of those pigeon holes over the last month because as well as providing the daily transport, it’s fetched my ‘new’ rally car, been a rally support vehicle and done some stirling charity work too.

The first part of the month was pretty exciting as having finally tracked down a Group 4 Ford Escort tarmac rally car that ticked all the boxes (after a five-month search), it was off to its home on the Isle of Wight to retrieve it. With the rented and sizeable trailer in tow we made a whopping 12m vehicle in the eyes of the Ferry company which attracted an appropriate ticket price.

Up with the first fart of a sparrow, junior Jesse Alex and I took off down the M40 and A34, glad of the light work the Sportage made of towing and the comfortable cabin. There was plenty of room for snacks and hot drinks in the cupholders too. The centre console has two sizes of cupholder, one big enough for those thermos cup things which is the sort of detail you notice at that time of the morning.

It was the weekend of those howling gales that we made the trip and I was fearful that a) we wouldn’t get a ferry back and b) a piece of tree would land on the new toy and seriously spoil my day. Neither happened and we made it, after a very long squawk, back in time to tuck the yellow thing up in its new home and for Al to get off and see his mates. The trip was made almost completely on motorways and the Sportage's cruise control worked well for the towing, making life a lot more restful. Keep an eye on this blog for more action with the ‘Wee Yellow Beastie’ as we call it here, and a new blog following our progress on the rally stages, starting soon.

A week later I was out at the Abingdon Stages at Dalton Barracks for some action in the co-driver’s historic spec Mk1. We were using the van to tow this time and the Sportage had an easier job as support vehicle, aka somewhere else to hide when it starts peeing down. After a lot of fun we were forced to retire after four stages with a technical hitch and with the cruise control set in the Sportage, I wafted home.

The final job was helping to set up for the annual Midnight Walk, a fund raiser for Mrs C’s place of work, Banbury’s Katharine House Hospice. There were loads of bread rolls, packs of bacon and bananas to move to the local cricket club, enough to fuel the 600 or so walkers. Seats flicked flat, the Sportage was loaded to the gunnels, its livery conveniently matching Katharine House’s corporate colours.

I was marshalling at two points throughout the night during which it stair-rodded with rain and although mid-summer, was cold. I did learn at one point to be more careful prodding around for an interior light button because I inadvertently opened the electric sunroof a tad (whose switches are adjacent) but nothing seemed to leak despite the downpour. The night was a great success, the walkers were undeterred and the part leather seats survived unmarked despite the excessive dampness of the driver.

By Jesse Crosse

It’s amazing how your views on things can change once you actually give something a go. I’ve got to admit I read the Sportage blurb with some cynicism before it arrived, particularly the Sport bit. OK, the looks are ‘sporty’ enough but when I got to the bit about the high sheet metal glass ratio giving the feeling of sitting low in the cockpit, I started to glaze over a touch.

Actually its true, you can sit low and if anything the passenger seat, which in this model isn’t adjustable for height, is a little too low for Mrs C. who finds herself peering over the dash. But the handling certainly lives up to the claim, the steering is sharp, the nose turns in crisply and there’s very little body roll. All that makes the Sportage easy and restful to drive on the country roads where I live and I don’t feel as though I’m wrestling a Leviathon as I have done in some SUVs. Maybe the term ‘crossover’ isn’t as much marketing hype as I thought, the Kia is certainly quite car-like to drive for a biggy.

It’s great driving something more practical again after the Cayman too. The first airport trip with the two of us, ironically only involved cabin baggage so it didn’t really stretch things storage-wise. But long things, like the 6ft strip light I picked up for the workshop the other day can be lobbed in the back with no messing about. Rear seats are easy to work from the back of the car with a flick of a catch and a shove. Electric folding mirrors are useful for squeezing into an ancient multi-story I frequent, which was designed when the original Mini was current. Fuel consumption hovers around the high 30s at the moment which is a tad lower than the official 49.6mpg official figure, given that I don’t drive it like a hooligan. I’ll have to experiment with that as time goes on.

By Jesse Crosse

The Sportage arrived the other day and it doesn’t look as though I’ll be needing a course of therapy after all. After a couple of drives and a good poke around my new accommodation I don’t think the switch from Cayman to 4x4 is going to be as bad as I thought. Not because they’re similar, obviously, but because they’re so completely different.

There’s nothing wrong with a car-life-laundry now and again and what the Sportage lacks in raw performance it makes up for in convenience, comfort and decent equipment levels. I found my kind of driving position easily (thought there might be a big compromise on that one) and the the rear seat backs just fold flat on the squab with no fancy catches to find and fiddle – though it’s a shame they don’t fold entirely flat. The six speed ‘box is light with a slop-free gate, and the brakes are strong, but unlike some others not over-sensitive with it.

The electric power steering feels overly light at first but that’s only at low speed. On the move it progressively loads up and at cruising speeds has a good, meaty feel. Kia reckons the EPS is worth a 3.5% improvement in fuel economy over a hydraulic rack so I wouldn’t want it any other way. The engine is a torquey beast and the little change-up light in the instrument display is addictive and encourages short shifting.

Generally, the Sportage is an intuitive package, a bit like an Apple Mac, and the manual has so far stayed put in the glove box. The cruise control has a separate steering wheel button to arm it and another for set and resume – a neat setup. It’s not adaptive but likely to get used a lot on motorways, more to keep the lid on fuel consumption than through laziness. That said, there’s some towing to be done as well so it’ll be interesting to see what some serious haulage does to the fuel consumption.

By Jesse Crosse

Over the last few years Kia has emerged from the ranks of the also-rans to become a manufacturer of great looking cars underpinned by sophisticated technology and backed by that famous seven-year warranty. Tempting designer Peter Schreyer to move across from VW in 2006 was a masterstroke, and the third-generation Sportage is a great example of how his pull-no-punches approach lifted something from embarrassingly dull to pretty striking.

As luck would have it, a Sportage being shortlisted for the CAR long-term fleet coincided with my occasional need to tow a classic rally car around. I had my doubts as the Sportage is regarded as a ‘crossover’ rather than a full-on trailer-hauling SUV, and at first I reckoned it was probably all mouth and no trousers. Hopefully I’m wrong about that, as the four-wheel drive and manual 'box-equipped KX-2 2.0 CRDi can pull two tonnes, as much as a Land Rover Freelander, so despite the pretty face it should fit the bill. The fact that it’s a crossover and should be more car-like to drive, as well as look at, might also help with the sizeable culture shock I’m about to confront – my daily driver for the last two years has been a Porsche Cayman S.

Kia makes the job of speccing cars easy. Instead of the usual daunting options list, each model ‘is what it is’ to make the ordering process simpler. The KX-2 CRDi comes with a six-speed manual ‘box and costs £23,025. For that you get a basic audio system with iPod interface and Bluetooth phone connectivity with voice control, a multi-function steering wheel, cruise control, part-leather trim, basic air-con, an electric one-touch panoramic sunroof and reversing sensors.

The 2.0 CRDi makes 134bhp and 236lb ft torque, less than the 150bhp and 309lb ft of the lowest spec Freelander 2 TD4 engine but on the plus side, the combined consumption figure is slightly better at 49.6mpg (compared to 45.6mpg). The 17-inch alloy wheels may not be the most fashionable but bode well for the ride quality, while on the down side the headlights on the ‘2’ level cars are halogen and not xenon.

Despite the ‘one size fits all’ approach, there are a couple of extras on our Sportage. The ‘Byte’ blue metallic paint we’ve chosen costs £475 and the crucial tow bar is £386.99, making a grand total of £23,886.99. Overall, it’s an awful lot of car for the money, especially when you consider that seven-year warranty is good for 100,000 miles and transferable to subsequent owners.

Given the plentiful supply of quick cars on the fleet I thought I might skulk off quietly to enjoy the Sportage for the duration but I think I’ve been sussed. Appreciative noises are already leaking from the CAR offices and I’ve a feeling the keys might be nicked sooner rather than later. 

By Jesse Crosse

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Ferrari F12 Berlinetta (2012) CAR review

Here it is, then, CAR Magazine's long-awaited first drive review of the new Ferrari F12 Berlinetta, replacement for the 599. The F12 is an all-new car, but the basics remain familiar: a powerful, naturally aspirated V12 sits ahead of the driver, while power flows to the rear wheels only.

The 6262cc V12 features the same bore and stroke as the four-wheel drive FF, but the bottom end is new, plus the top end has been extensively re-worked, says Maranello. The result is 720bhp and 509lb ft torque, and not a turbo or supercharger in sight. The engine – like the seats and dashboard – also sits lower in the chassis, lowering the centre of gravity and improving handling response. Click here for a Ferrari F12 Berlinetta video.

At the back there’s a transaxle arrangement, with a seven-speed dual-clutch gearbox and electronically controlled mechanical limited-slip differential taking drive to the rear wheels.

The benchmark 0-62mph sprint is dispatched in just 3.1sec, while the top speed is said to lie somewhere north of 211mph. With that incredible performance in mind, 18.8mpg – that’s 30% more efficient than the 599 – and 350g/km isn’t quite so bad. Just bear in mind that you'll need the optional HELE stop/start system to achieve those economy figures, though. Do Ferrari drivers care? Probably not in the UK, put they might in places with particularly punitive CO2 legislation, such as Denmark and the Netherlands.

Elsewhere there’s an evolution of Ferrari’s carbon ceramic brakes and the magnetorheological adaptive suspension system.

No, just the basic concept. The F12’s wheelbase is 30mm shorter, plus, at 1525kg without fluids, it’s 70kg lighter than the car it replaces – and both, remember, are aluminium. However, the dimensions themselves are only part of the story: the new car has 20% more structural rigidity, while clever honing of aerodynamics – born out of computational fluid dynamics and tested in the wind tunnel – has boosted downforce by 76% and cut drag.

The clever aero has a real impact on the car’s look: the ‘aero bridge’ channels air through a scoop in the bonnet, which then exits behind the front wheel, helping to push the front end of the car into the ground at speed while also reducing drag behind the wheels. Meanwhile, active aero – as seen on the Ferrari 458 Italia with its flexing front splitter – is at work too, only opening the brake cooling ducts when the brakes require cooling, thus minimizing the drag that the cooling ducts create.

It’s amazing, and a big leap over the previous 599 – GTO special edition included. Part of the key to this is the hyper-quick steering, which uses the same funny-fast ratio as the 458 – you very rarely feel the need to move your hands from the quarter-to-three position, even in hairpins. This combined with tyres that are wider and have stiffer sidewalls than the 458, and suspension that’s both very supple and incredibly controlled gives the nose an extremely responsive and darty feel.

The shortened wheelbase adds noticeably to the sense of agility too: power out of a bend and there’s an almost four-wheel steering kind of feeling as the electronic differential sends power to the outside rear wheel, pushing you through the corner and compressing the felt-size of the F12.

It can do at first, but you quickly get used to it. I found myself using a gear higher than was necessary, bringing the rear tyres closer to their adhesion limit and making this feeling worse, simply because I initially tried to drive the F12 as I had the 599 GTO, the ultimate road-going evolution of the 599.

However, the responsiveness of the F12’s engine, the fact that its seven gears are more closely stacked than the 599’s six and the extra low-down torque means it’s possible to be in, say, fourth when you initially thought third was appropriate. Hook the higher gear and the car calms down, and you start to work the front end harder, using the car’s impressive stability and reserves of grip to carry big speed through turns.

The seven-speed dual-clutch gearbox is fantastic. It manages to combine perfect manners during low-speed manouevring with instant shifts when you’re banging through the gears at the redline. It doesn’t have the engaging thump of, say, a Lamborghini, but I don’t miss that, and the instant shifts and explosive downshifts mean you never tire of pulling those paddles.

The engine is a masterpiece. Climb into the cabin and right before you sits a central speedo that reads to 10,000rpm and is redlined at 8500rpm. Peak power comes at 8250rpm, but there’s some breathing space before the cut-out, so you never find yourself clattering the rev limiter unless you’re fooling around and spinning the tyres up out of a bend. The result is an engine that feels endless, that climaxes in an F1-like yelp and has the kind of electric throttle response that turbo motors can only dream of. Yes, it’s around 70bhp more powerful than the GTO, but it’s the lowdown responsiveness and extra torque – 52lb ft of it – that strikes you more. Thank you, Ferrari, for sticking with natural aspiration.

Comfortable, fantastic to drive, dripping with raw emotion and combining a decent helping of practicality, the F12 is a giant leap over the 599 GTB. It’ll be interesting to see how it compares with Aston’s new Vanquish, but it’s clear that the Brits will have their work cut out on this evidence.

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Infiniti M35h hybrid (2011) long-term test review

By the CAR road test team

Long Term Tests

18 July 2012 11:01

Even after 14,575 miles, many of them gliding silently on a waft of electric torque, enough Toys to guarantee an R Us appendage and one Guinness World Record, I'm afraid most of the CAR team fail to warm to Infiniti's M35h.

Sorry to disappoint you if you were expecting me to build up to the conclusion, but there it is, in all its stark brevity. The M is a fine vehicle in many regards but after nine months at CAR HQ, Infiniti's first hybrid failed to worm its way into our affections the way that best-in-class cars should.

We've had a busy life together, piling on an average of 1800 miles a month, driving from the west coast of Wales to the wilds of Lotus territory in Norfolk; from the south coast of England to the Scottish border. We never ventured abroad but we did enjoy a stint on track at the Santa Pod Raceway in Northamptonshire, where we set an official world record for the fastest-accelerating hybrid car over the quarter mile. The certificate still hangs in my bog.

A silly promotional stunt perhaps, but in its first week on fleet it demonstrated that this is a seriously quick saloon. It's Boxster-fast, hitting 62mph in 5.5sec as we passed the quarter mile in 13.8 seconds at 103mph. That's as rapid as a 1982 Lamborghini Countach S.

But this duality of purpose is one of the confusions at the heart of the M's character. In fairness, Infiniti positions it as a performance hybrid rather than a gallon god, and its brisk acceleration impressed us far more than its economy. Over nearly a year we averaged 29.3mpg and during our recent office outing to Snowdonia for last month's long-termer punishment, its appetite for unleaded soared to 24mpg.

Economical it's not. Brits would be better off plumping for a diesel - the M30d we borrowed for a week averaged a marginally less guzzly 32mpg. But then my last car, a BMW 530d Touring, managed 34mpg...

Still, if all this sounds negative, let's dwell on the M35h's strengths. And it has many. Road test editor Ben Pulman and I often raved about this car's long-distance cruising ability: the comfy, ventilated seats, its classy, alternative dashboard milieu, brilliant Bose stereo and a hushed, double-glazed refinement were a godsend on motorway schleps.

Best bit is how the car 'sails' if you back off the throttle even at high motorway speeds. The engine falls silent and the transmission switches to electric mode, giving that saintly buzz you get in a Prius around town - but at 80mph. If you buy a hybrid, you want to feel good about it every day and the M ticks that box. It runs on EV mode more than most petrol-electric cars.

We suffered no faults. I thought the driver's heated seat was broken but it came back from the very plush Infiniti Birmingham (our nearest dealer - 83 miles away!) with the seat still only registering a mild frisson of buttock toastiness. They checked it during the car's 9000-mile service, which cost £300 and was made miles easier by the fact they picked the car up and dropped it off again the following morning, leaving us an EX30d as a courtesy car.

Our car came with no options except the inky Malbec Black metallic paint at £679. Niceties such as keyless entry, rear parking camera, radar cruise control and a clever multimedia system (syncing seamlessly with most phones) were all standard.

All of which made it easy to take a deep breath, relax and waft around in this car. But truth be told, it wasn't enough to counter the numb steering, unsophisticated chassis and minuscule boot. Seemingly you agree: Infiniti sold fewer than 30 M35h hybrids last year.

By Tim Pollard

Word of warning to high-mileage executive types: Infiniti is stuck with decades-old servicing intervals. Our M requires maintenance every 9000 miles, comparing badly with the German rivals it's aimed at whose variable servicing typically doubles that for M-way-pounding types.

This took me so much by surprise that we were actually a little late getting the M35h booked in for its first service, 11,856 miles showing up on the odo. Woops.

Bearing in mind how well built the M is, the quality of modern lubricants and Nissan's reputation for reliability, I can only imagine the shortened service intervals are a business decision to increase turnover at dealerships. And with a small pool of Infinitis in the UK at present, that must be imperative for the fledgling network.

So we booked in at Infiniti Centre Birmingham. Thankfully they still come and collect your car for you - a godsend, as I work 83 miles away. Will they still do this when they have a 40-strong dealer network in the future? I doubt it. But then I'll have less far to travel.

There's no doubting the experience at Infiniti Centres though. A friendly chap arrived at my office, picked up the keys to our M35h and left us with an EX30d. Not your average courtesy car - I was half expecting a Micra. And that was it. No hassle. No waiting around. They simply turned up the following morning with our pristine hybrid, collected the courtesy crossover and it was job done. All this was normal customer experience - we weren't booked in as journalists (although our car's number plate is a bit of a telltale).

When I ran CAR's BMW 530d Touring last year, I paid £247 for the first oil change service at 17,000 miles. Which makes the Infiniti roughly double the cost to maintain, bearing in mind its shorter intervals. But our M35h came back with a clean bill of health and I'm left feeling it's bulletproof. The hybrid's battery is in near 100% state of health (encouraging bearing in mind our fears over battery degeneration in the long run) and a very clear service report found 'no faults on any vehicle systems'. The winter tyres still have a chunky 8mm of tread at the front and 7mm at the rear. (We're about to change those back to summer rubber though).

And there you have it. Probably my easiest, least painful dealer service experience ever. All I had to do was dial a number and everything else was done for me. But you do pay for the privilege...

By Tim Pollard

So our M35h hybrid is now slightly out-of-date. Infiniti this week announced a revised version which nudges CO2 emissions below the all-important 160g/km barrier. It's all a bit nerdy, but crucially it's enough to lower its company car tax band by one grading to 22% for the 2012-13 tax year.

For a typical 40% taxpayer, that means you'll save around £180 annually on your company car tax. And that new magic 159g/km CO2 reading (down from 162g/km) means your business can claim the higher rate of Write Down Allowance, which means they'll claim 20%, or double the amount of money back, as a legitimate capital expenditure (they can claim only 10% back if the fleet car in question pumps out over 160g/km).

How has Infiniti saved the extra grammes? By tweaking the electric motor and battery charging system, apparently. No tall gearing or skinny eco tyres here. So the M35h'll now creep around silently on electric power even more frequently. That's impressive - it already drives in EV mode more than most hybrids I've driven. The new 2012 M hybrid goes half a mile extra per gallon - now averaging 40.9mpg.

Obviously, we say that figure must have been produced in Cloud Cuckoo Land. Our M35h hybrid isn't averaging anything like that (we're struggling to break through 30mpg in everyday driving), so I'm not sure the M will be in demand if there is a fuel crisis in the UK if the petrol delivery tanker drivers go on strike.

Still, with careful feathering of the throttle and maximum e-miles, we might just beat the car's claimed 416-mile range after I brimmed it this morning...

By Tim Pollard

See that reading on the instrument cluster? It hit a brisk -6deg C last night as I drove home. It's at times like that when niceties like a heated steering wheel make sense. The Infiniti's helm gets nice and toasty which takes the edge off clammy cold leather in a jiffy.

The heating elements in the wheel are much better than in the seats in fact; the driver's side pew seems to have given up the ghost, so I plan to get this checked out when I have the car serviced soon. (Infiniti service intervals fall at a very unGermanic 9000 miles - about half what my last 5-series did).

While we're on the instrument cluster, check out the range reading. I've just brimmed the M hybrid and it's saying we've got 400 miles onboard. Compare that with the Jag XF 2.2 diesel poster I saw today at the station; it boasts a Geneva-friendly 800-mile range.

Makes you think twice about efficiency, no? We're still averaging around 29mpg in our Infiniti. I promise a fuller analysis of our economy figures in my next online report.

By Tim Pollard

You might have seen in the new February 2012 issue of CAR Magazine that we succumbed to the winter tyre craze for our M. There's still only a handful of Infiniti dealerships in the UK (another five open up this year) so we were directed to the Infiniti Centre in Birmingham.

Okay, okay - we could have just shopped at Kwik Fit. But like many manufacturers, Infiniti offers a branded winter tyre programme and we wanted to try out one of the brand's dealers. Heavens knows I've heard enough promotion over the years from Carlos Ghosn downwards about how boutiquey and different they are. Time to find out.

Brum's not exactly that close to Peterborough - a good hour and a half away by car. A new Infiniti Centre will open in Cambridge later this year, but it doesn't really matter; they come and pick up your car for servicing anyway.

So we trundled over to Birmingham and found the dealership slap bang in the middle of one of the city's busiest arteries, the A45. Many UK cities have a Garage Row - and this was no exception, with Audi, Mercedes and other premium garages within kicking-tyre distance. It's an old Nissan showroom, but you'd be hard pressed to know.

I found ample parking, friendly staff and, begrudgingly, even accept that there is something of the boutique hotel about the Infiniti experience. There's lovely paint schemes, Walter Knoll furniture and flat screen TVs. I've been to two Infiniti dealers now, and both have felt very premium.

Let's not comment too much on the service itself - this particular tour was not incognito - but while I chatted to centre manager David Topham the M35h was hoisted up on to the ramp and four new Continental ContiWinterContacts were fitted in 90 minutes.

Infiniti charges £1200 for this plus VAT. Call it £1440 all in. Although you can halve that at Kwik Fit, the hassle factor is in Infiniti's favour as they'll store your boots for you.

Have we noticed a difference? You can read my separate blog on winter tyres here, but the Infiniti is now possessed of a devilish grip on tarmac even in icy conditions. I've tried to brake hard on slippy roads and it's impressive how much deceleration they generate before locking up. We've yet to have proper snow around these parts, but having seen the forecast for this weekend, I suspect I'll have an update for you soon.

By Tim Pollard

Another report on the Infiniti M35h from a different member of the CAR team, and another glowing account of its epic cruising abilities. Comfortable seats, decent high-speed ride, a good sat-nav and magnificent refinement, plus the heated steering wheel is a boon on cold mornings. The only downside is that 70mph suddenly feels very, very slow. 

The M35h impresses less away from the motorway: the steering is too light and lacks any feedback whatsoever, and there’s too much body roll. According to its official keeper, Tim Pollard, it’s averaging around 30mpg too. Which is nothing more than okay. A diesel would do much better.

Of course you could argue that a petrol engine (especially when hybridised) spews out fewer particulate nasties than a diesel. But you’ll never convince me that carrying around kilos upon kilos of batteries is environmentally friendly, even if the official NEDC test says otherwise.

And if you’ve got an M, it’s only available with V6 power so I doubt it’s a company car. Emissions over 160g/km compare with sub 130g/km from the best German diesels. That means the M35h has to be a personal rather than economic choice over the M30d, but I’d stick with the latter and go twice as far on a tank. Then its mile-munching ability would be even better.

By Ben Pulman

My Audi A1 wasn't the appropriate car to ferry two adults, a teenager and a boot load of pressies north to my sister's at the weekend, so I borrowed our Infiniti hybrid for the schlep north. And in the cold winter weather, I found the M's standard heated steering wheel an absolute joy. It's probably an extravagant luxury, but it certainly takes the edge of cold leather early in the mornings.

I was less impressed by the boot, however. The M35h is not exactly a small car, but those lithium batteries mean that the boot is disappointingly small. In fact the whole interior is comfy and luxurious, but not that spacious. Perhaps we should blame the bulky centre console and thick seats; the M's not as roomy as I'd expected for a long family drive.

Don't get the wrong idea. The car still charmed me and my passengers. It has, as may be expected of a record-breaker, great acceleration although I had to adapt my driving style a little to overcome a little lag as the hybrid system shuffles between petrol and electric power.

The Infiniti M35h is very smooth to drive on a long run, offers a great turn of speed and that hybrid tech means it does a good stint on not much fuel. I like the look of it, too - it's like an executive but the nice sleek curves give it wider appeal than the German establishment. The only problem I now have with Christmas around the corner is finding £47k to buy one for the other half. He adores it.

One final gripe: the M's sun visor. Winter sun is horrendous if you forget your sunglasses before setting off for a long drive and the Infiniti's visor is too narrow for my stature. I found the curved cut-out at the corner of the windscreen allowed too much blinding sun to peek through.

By Sarah-Jayne Harrison

In the current December 2011 issue of CAR magazine I've extolled the virtues of our M35h hybrid as an airport commuter vehicle par excellence. And having just racked up nearly 10 hours driving in just 36 hours - ending up at Heathrow again - I can confirm the M's status as motorway king.

It's a wonderfully relaxing environment in here. The seats don't adjust quite as much as my old 530d's, but they leave me remarkably fresh after long stints at the wheel. The hybrid comes only in top spec, so the hide-bound pews are ventilated and warmed as standard. No massage function, mind.

The centre console helps create that relaxing vibe. Where all current German executives are a bit straight, a teensy bit joyless inside, the Infiniti feels warm and friendly. That silver-flecked wood trim from grand piano maker Yamaha helps no end and the buttons are simply labelled and large. There aren't too many of them either (Panamera, take note).

I reckon they've judged the - terrible mumbo-jumbo alert - human machine interface really well. You can use the central scroll button or the touchscreen to input most commands. Or the voice control, which I've not yet dared use. Sceptics will call this a posh Nissan, but three months in and I'm converted to the interior. Materials are plush, build first-rate and it's quite a refreshing change from the establishment.

The Nissan Connect multimedia system makes an appearance and I'm a big fan. Synching with iPods is seamless, the sat-nav takes full six- and seven-digit postcodes and the hierarchy of menus is logical. The only bit of kit I miss is a DAB digital radio, owing to the dire local stations like Peterboghorror FM around these parts.

I've previously mentioned the joyful 'sailing' function at a cruise. Even if you back off at 70mph, the petrol engine shuts down and you glide silently down the road, a smug halo rising overhead. It helps you chill out and I find myself triggering it on purpose if I'm cruising downhill.

I've also been experimenting with the radar cruise control. Like most of these systems, it works well enough but I find the juddering deceleration annoying when it picks up a car in a different lane on M-way corners. These systems are still no match for a human mind.

Our next update? We plan a deep look at the M35h's economy figures. Stay tuned.

By Tim Pollard

This is probably the acid question on this long-term test. Namely, should you spend £46,840 on the M35h hybrid, when the M30d diesel is available from £40,190? Or – if you're feeling brave - £38,580 on the petrol M37?

The hybrid is only sold in the UK in top-dog GT Premium spec, which explains some of that swollen price – but any prospective buyers should also look at the vital stats on the car configurator before pressing the big green order button. Consider these all-important digits:

          M30d          M35h         M37
Price  £40,190   £46,840    £38,580
Econ  37.7mpg   40.4mpg   27.7mpg
CO2  199g/km   162g/km   235g/km
0-62  6.9sec      5.5sec      6.2sec

So the hybrid should save company car drivers – and private buyers – money in lower running costs. On paper, at least. And Infiniti is said to be working on a sub 160g/km target for the M35h's fleet credentials.

Our fuel consumption in the M35h is still settling down after our Guinness world record shenanigans in its first month with us, so we'll drill into our economy in fuller detail soon. Suffice to say of late we've been averaging around 31mpg in the hybrid Infiniti.

For the sake of comparison we booked a week in the petrol and diesel Ms and recorded our fuel consumption in each. Unsurprisingly, the petrol was thirstiest at a pricey sounding 24mpg over a mixed week's driving.

Which was cleaner out of the diesel and petrol-electric hybrid? The M30d averaged 32mpg, the M35h 31mpg. So the hybrid has a suffered a bigger disparity between the claim and reality. Which might make you think twice before ordering – especially when the derv was refined, smooth and torquey enough to be a credible alternative to the German hegemony (although its emissions are some way off).

By Tim Pollard 

Our new Infiniti long-term test car has been around for a few weeks now - you might have seen it set a Guinness World Record in its first week with us.

We won't regale you with stories of our new hybrid car land speed record here (click here for our blog at the time), but you can watch the video from Santa Pod in our video player below for those who missed out.

So why did we choose to run an M35h on our long-term test fleet? Simple. Infiniti is still a tadpole in Europe's executive ocean - a tiddler which sold just 232 cars to Brits in 2010. But the marque is hellbent on expanding over here and across the EU, to make it a credible premium player like it is in the US.

The chief executive officer of Nissan, Carlos Ghosn, told me the plan for his upmarket wing was to quadruple sales to 700,000 a year, taking 10% of global luxury sales. Tellingly, there was no deadline put on this ambition - he's too canny for that - but make no mistake. With the muscle of Renault-Nissan behind this plan, it's not one we'll take lightly.

And that's where CAR's long-term test comes in. We know that plenty of you will scoff at Infiniti as a credible rival to Audi, BMW, Merc or Jag. And so do some at CAR. But remember 1989? When Toyota launched Lexus? Although still selling a tenth the cars Merc does in the UK, Lexus has now become a real player in the executive sector. And that's exactly what Ghosn wants to achieve in Europe with Infiniti, albeit with a more sporting, BMW bent.

So the M's joining us for a longer test to see how it fares. Can it win us over with its style, its luxury, its plain technological cleverness? We're about to find out. I have run BMW 5-series and Jag XFs in my time at CAR, so was deemed the appropriate tester for the job. I'm open minded enough to consider Infiniti a rival, yet know how high standards have to be in this sector.

Ours is Infiniti's first hybrid, a clever system mating the older 302bhp 3.5-litre V6 with a 67bhp electric motor in something they rather grandly call the Infiniti Direct Response Hybrid system. One of the key points of differentiation in Infiniti's hybrid set-up is the use of two clutches to juggle power supply.

It works like this. The first (dry) clutch sits between the V6 and e-motor, allowing the car to V6 to decouple when in EV or regenerative braking mode.  The second (wet) clutch sits in the automatic transmission, sandwiched between the electric motor and the cogset. It essentially replaces a torque converter, making the seven-speeder act a bit like an autoated manual. Infiniti claims it's 10% more efficient as a result.

Speccing our Infiniti M35h was simple. It only comes in one spec - top-dog Premium Luxury - and has absolutely everything. Leather, heated and ventilated seats, electric blinds, the mother of all sat-navs, heated steering wheels... all are standard. As they should be for £46,840. Stay tuned over the next few months for regular updates on our Infiniti hybrid.

By Tim Pollard

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Seat Alhambra 2.0 TDI SE DSG (2012) long-term test review

By the CAR road test team

Long Term Tests

26 July 2012 12:02

Just back from holiday in France and, funnily enough, my new Suzuki Swift Sport wasn't man enough for the job of taking a family of four with a week's luggage. Cue a begging email to Stephen Worthy asking to borrow his cavernous Seat Alhambra.

If you're expecting this to be a glowing praise of a people carrier in its element, think again. It's more than that - I've come back thinking the Alhambra is surely the best MPV on sale today. Starting at £23,535, it's a solid £700 cheaper than its VW brethren and £1500 less than a Ford Galaxy. Only the Ford S-Max tempts me as an alternative - it's priced from a punchy £22,600 and has equally strong talents.

But the Alhambra has a few aces up its sleeves. Neither Ford can match its sliding rear doors which make getting in and out of the back much easier. I'd ditch their electric operation, though - just plain annoying for parents as children whizz them back and forth with a reversing dustbin lorry beep. And the motorised tailgate is a folly. It's so long, you end up worrying it's going to scrape car park/wall/child as it winds up slowly and jerkily and noisily and....  what's wrong with an old-fashioned manual mechanism?

The Seat MPV is cleverly vast without being squared off like a Galaxy or Espace (RIP). As holiday transport, it's perfect. Familial conversations about packing were the most pain-free I've yet encountered - everything fitted in and nothing had to be left behind. And yet the Alhambra doesn't feel too daunting to drive; the package is well worked and it's easy to thread around city streets. A reversing camera helps too.

This is sooo much better than the last Alhambra, an ageing cross-breed related to the Ford Galaxy/VW Sharan etc. In comes the sort of VW quality that Wolfsburg specialises in: tactile materials, solid build, easy-to-use touchscreen/sat-nav/Bluetooth functionality. Frankly it's the electronic architectures like this which a small company like Seat would struggle to deliver on its own. Just look at Lotus.

Having travelled on Eurostar the last time we drove to the Continent, we chose to sail to Normandy this time with Brittany Ferries. I used to live in Portsmouth and I was surprised by how much smarter the ferry port is nowadays - much spruced up from the ramshackle shed I've seen previously.

We sailed on the Normandie Express to Cherbourg and I was relieved that the Alhambra - 4.8m long and 1.7m tall - still qualifies as a car, not a minibus. It fitted on with no problems and those sliding doors came in handy. The crossing out was quite choppy but Brittany Ferries' catamaran sped across the Channel in three hours, chopping a load of miles off our journey. A summer crossing costs £320 and you'd save a bundle of that on péages and petrol.

Speaking of fuel, we topped up in Portsmouth and saw a pleasingly high 600-mile range. Despite being loaded up to the gunwhales, our Alhambra averaged 37mpg exactly over 501 miles. It's not a quick car, our Seat, but the ride and handling are damn close to the S-Max, my personal class benchmark, and the twin-clutch transmission is as rifle-bolt fast as usual. It's slightly incongruous, if anything, slamming gearchanges home with the speed of a Scirocco in something that seats seven, but we're not complaining.

You might have gathered, I'm rather keen on the Alhambra. If you're in the market for a seven-seater, look no further.

By Tim Pollard 

We were pretty much given a blank canvas by Seat when speccing up the Alhambra. We went fairly conservative too, with road test editor Ben Pulman reining in my demands for the pretty olive green-cum-gold ‘boal’ paint in favour of bold salsa red, but our Spanish friends did stipulate one thing.

Knowing that I had one child and another on the way at the time of ordering (second boy finally born November 2011) they asked that we try out the integrated child seat. It’s certainly a neat device, but it’s only now that I’ve plucked up courage to use it – okay, for my son to use it – in earnest.

To look at, the seat looks like a common or garden one at rest, but pull the handle under it and it lifts upwards, as if on a little dais, creating a mini footrest for your mini adults in the process. It becomes, in effect, a super sturdy booster seat. You also swap the standard headrest for one with side supports – although that support looks pretty minimal. By which we mean very open. Which is where my problems with the childseat begins.

Anyone who has got two children will own after-market childseats and will know that if you have more than one car the constant unbuckling, un-Isofixing and swapping of them between vehicles is a damnable chore. Which is why the Seat integrated seat appeared so attractive to me. The wife? That’s another matter altogether.

She simply doesn’t think it looks safe enough, pointing to the cushioned comfort afforded by the big Britax childseat she has fitted in her C-Max. But as our eldest, Raffi, is three, the law says the Seat seat (that’s not word repetition) is legal. I love how easy it is to set it up, but I’ve been barred from using it, apart from on very small trips. As my wife is editor of Pregnancy & Birth magazine, she is something of an expert on all things baby and child related, so I’ve decided this is one battle not worth pursuing.

Which has left one young man rather unhappy. Raffi loves his ‘big boy’s chair’, especially its footrest. Sadly, by the time he will be old enough to fit in it without raising my wife’s ire, the Alhambra will be long gone. It will be yet another reason to bemoan the departure of a rather brilliant vehicle.

By Stephen Worthy

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m just about the only member of the CAR team who thought it was a good idea to mate the Alhambra’s 138bhp 2.0-litre diesel block with flappy VW Group paddles. In fact, I may have been the only one in the world with that opinion. My reasoning was that a lad’s gotta get his kicks somewhere – even if it’s in a family-sized MPV the size of hippo (although, as Tim Pollard mooted, it handles far more nimbly than that – like a baby warthog, perhaps)

Truth is I do use the paddle shifts, especially when powering out into roundabouts along the Bedfordshire stretch of the A1, trying to ensure I don’t get stuck behind Norbert Dentressangle or any of his articulated kin. But I’m also man enough to admit that I may have been wrong in opting for them – but not because I think they aren’t much cop. No, it’s because those kicks I was seeking have manifested themselves all over this deliriously practical car (so, I’m getting old already!)

The little things that currently put a smile on my face:

• As I’ve only had the car since the clocks went back, it’s taken until now to fully appreciate the full-length sunroof in the evening. It will be coming into its own now that the sap is rising and the days are getting longer
• Leg room in front of the second row of seats – not for the benefit of my passengers, but because I can sling briefcases, the shopping and 144-pack boxes of Pampers into the gap rather than having them roll around the boot
• Steering wheel intuitiveness – I’m an obsessive twiddler of the switches and dials, toggling between DAB radio, iPod, trip meter, fuel remaining and recipe suggestions*. The Alhambra has the best of any car I’ve driven. Better than BMW, better than Mercedes.

While I’m here, I’ve got my own solution to Greg Fountain’s mild irritation with the pace of the electric sliding passenger doors. I use the keyfob to close them, thus resisting the temptation to start yanking on an expensive bit of technology. That I can do it while standing on the doorstep, waving my keys at the Alhambra like Mr H Potter with his wand, is still some kinda alchemy to me.

*Alright, it’s not that intuitive. Yet.

Stephen Worthy

Borrowing Stephen Worthy’s Seat Alhambra for a weekend was mainly a pragmatic decision, driven by the need to help my mum move house rather than by some long-suppressed fetish for Spanish people carriers. I wonder what you’d call such a fetish? Seatism? Vanchondria? Multiple Doorosis? Anyway…

There’s an awful lot to like about the Alhambra. Unlike its usual keeper I don’t have a rapidly burgeoning headcount to ferry about, so I’m more concerned with its substantial freight-forwarding potential than with its seating capacity. And with the seats down it’s a light commercial, capable of containing virtually all of the spurious coffee tables from my mum’s lounge (why DO old people have so many coffee tables?).

In the matter of coffee-table stowage the sliding doors are naturally pre-eminent. They work beautifully and offer up orifices into which you simply cannot resist loading items, human or otherwise. Also, when one returns to the car park to discover that some skill-averse Fiesta owner has left you such a narrow gap that, should you attempt access, Danny Boyle will make a film about your plight, well… you can still get in.

The flipside, however, is the fact that the doors are ‘automatic’ – a £995 option that also includes a powered tailgate. In my experience, anything that is automatic works at its own pace, in its own sweet way and couldn’t care a tinker’s cuss for the pace or method you (its mere owner) would prefer. Such is the way with the doors. You pull the handle and try to open them, but they won’t let you. Oh no. You must allow them to do their prima donna ‘long, slow glide’ act while you stand there with an armful of coffee tables, tapping and tutting.

Once loaded, you try to slam the door with a satisfying Transit-style whoosh-clump-click, but no. We must wait. It’s like a recurring dream I have, where I’m playing in a big football match and surely about to score, but I’m inexplicably running in slow motion, unable to reach the ball in time.

So, I say to Seat the following: the car is great, the idea of sliding apertures equally so, but please can we take a leaf out of the arrival procedure for cabin crew: doors to manual.

By Greg Fountain

Borrowed Stephen's Alhambra 2.0 TDI SE DSG for the past week, on a mix of work and holiday duties. I came back nothing but impressed. This is a great people carrier.

Why so? Well, it's very practical family transport. The sliding doors make getting in and out a cinch, and I reckon they've incorporated the sliding rail mechanism very neatly into the design. The boot's massive (we've spent the first part of this week filming video out of the back) and it scrubs down easily after 48 hours of practically living in the cabin. (We got it rather dirty, sorry Stephen.)

But what makes the Alhambra appeal to the likes of me and, I guess, perhaps you, is how it manages to drive like an anti-bus. My personal benchmark in the MPV sector remains the Ford S-Max and Galaxy, but the Alhambra/Sharan set must now run it very close indeed.

The 2.0-litre TDI engine has enough punch for spirited performance, the DSG twin-clutch 'box shuffles gears smoothly in the background and the chassis is surprisingly rewarding when being shuttled around Welsh back roads.

Don't get the wrong idea. I wouldn't for a second take the Alhambra out for a blast, and I never once touched those misplaced paddle-shifts. But it's nice to know you can choose an MPV and not have to sacrifice your enthusiast desires totally.

Then there's the rock-solid build quality, the comfortable seats, the equipment, the fact that this particular Alhambra costs almost precisely £1000 less than its VW equivalent... I wouldn't change much on our Alhambra - except delete the ludicrous electrically operated tailgate, which chunters away so slowly you'd be quicker to load the boot through the side doors. It doesn't open tall enough, either. A rare black mark against this otherwise very practical MPV.

By Tim Pollard

While I was standing in the road trying not to knocked over by a bus the other morning – I was trying to juxtapose the 221 to Edgware with my Salsa Red Alhambra, see – I watched my next-door-neighbour-but-one waste 20 minutes of his time.

It had snowed overnight in London NW7. Five centimetres or so, maybe. I watched the neighbour come out and inspect VW van and then head back inside for 10 minutes. Out come TWO saucepans of boiling water which he poured over the windscreen. 'Aaaaargh! Waddya doing man?' I said. Not very loudly. I guess he can afford a new front ’screen when this one cracks. Then, he went back inside and came out with a broom and wiped all the snow off.

Me? I simply started up the Alhambra, reached across to the windscreen wiper stalk, pressed it and watched the night’s deluge clear. It took, perhaps, 1.5 seconds. Despite being Iberian (via Wolfsburg), the Alhambra is finding February’s inclement weather easy-peasy to deal with. The heated front ’screens are a winner, the bum warmers heat up quicker than a halogen ring and the interior is toasty before I’ve left my road. Unlike our Infiniti M long-termer, which eventually became hospitable somewhere near Stevenage on a drive last week. You can hardly drive like a twerp – or indeed want to – in an Alhambra, but even so the fitted winter tyres means there’s been no ice dramas either.

Maybe it’s the weather that’s the cause of the one glitch we’ve encountered on the Alhambra so far. The rear electric passenger door has decided it doesn’t want to close from the inside. Thankfully you can close it three other ways – using the keyfob, central console switch or by manually closing it from the outside.

Yeah, I know. Manually closing it! Tsk. Whatever next? Manual parking rather than the assisted kind? Because yes, the Alhambra does that too.

I’ve gone slushier than the outside lane of the A1(M) over this car.

By Stephen Worthy

At the last count, the Seat Alhambra has won more glittering prizes than the movie Titanic (seven in the UK alone, but also garnering best MPV nods throughout Europe – including Germany). But thankfully, this is no sinking ship. Far from it. Out there among the Continent’s car-buying public, the new Alhambra is proving to be a fine synthesis of family-sized function, form, real-world practicality and optional electric sliding doors. And that’s why we’re here, speccing up an Alhambra as my wife and I welcome our second child to the world. Is it just a Sharan with a few hundred quid knocked off merely because of the badge?
Sales of the seven-seater Alhambra have trebled in 2011 against the previous 12 months, says Seat, so plenty of motorists have become smitten. Although we want to find out if you can really fall in love with a car as big-boned as this. First, we will have to choose wisely when it comes to marrying standard spec to Seat’s jam-packed option list.

Eschewing the lure of option overkill, where a car groans and puffs under the weight of its own technology, I’ve started with a base of middling SE trim. There are over 50 ‘highlights’ of the standard equipment that SE affords you, including such unmissable delights as rear window wiper and washer and electronic handbrake. Grab you yet? No? How about we dig deeper, as you also get – ‘gratis’ – cruise, Bluetooth, steering wheel phone and audio controls and stop/start.

We’ve grafted all this onto the most popular engine choice, the 138bhp 2.0 TDi Ecomotive (which we’ve opted to take with the DSG gearbox with flappy paddles). How much? £27,875. And then, by jove, we start to get into the really exciting stuff. Okay, so ‘exciting’ and Winter Pack (£295) is pushing it but for that you get heated front seats and heated front washer nozzles. An extra of £450 gives me the standard-ish Seat Sound System but with Park Assist to wow the neighbours with.

With our eldest boy now touching one metre tall we’ve taken the plunge on an integrated child seat (£195) and the Cargo Pack (£325) looks a good choice as we think the Alhambra will spend most of its time with us operating on five seats only, with the rear row disengaged to give us a Wembley-sized boot. The Cargo Pack comes with a number of fancy nets and partitions so you can make the very most out of your aft stowage.

We’ve got the car over the depths of the British winter (not that it really has arrived yet in the London area), so £445 seems an appropriate, if a little expensive, use of our budget in order to secure a heated front windscreen. Experience with Volvo XC60 and Vauxhall Meriva long-termers has sold me on the benefits of a full-length panoramic glass roof, both for vision and ad hoc planespotting for kids, big and small. On the Alhambra that means ticking the Panorama Pack which, for its £795, also gives us 17in Kosta alloys… oh, and door and dashboard decorative inserts. Hussar!

Finally the coup de grâce – if my experience with a 168bhp Alhambra this summer is anything to go by – is to have plumped for powered tailgate and sliding rear side doors. They are fancy, they are ‘trick’ (as they say in the modified world) but they are unfailingly useful. They make pouring two little boys into a car less of a work of art but something resembling fun instead. And that, for £31,375, is your lot for now.

If this isn’t the start of a beautiful relationship, then I’ll eat my standard spec sun visor (with illuminated vanity mirror).

By Stephen Worthy

View the original article here

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BMW M5 (2012) long-term test review

By the CAR road test team

Long Term Tests

13 July 2012 10:10

Back in the not-so-distant old days, you’d check your M car’s oil with a dipstick. These days, you check the oil not by dipping a dipstick, but by dipping into a submenu on the iDrive computer.

There you’ll see a virtual dipstick that works just like the old real ones did: the gap between the line at the top and the line at the bottom of the dipstick equates to a litre of oil. If it’s on the lower marking, you need to add another litre, pronto.

Anyway, I was off in Chernobyl with Land Rover during the team’s trip to Wales with all our longtermers, and the rogues I’d left back home with my keys had apparently treated the M so disrespectfully that an ‘add oil at the soonest possible opportunity’ bonged up during the trip at around 9000 miles, 4000 miles after the M5 joined our longterm fleet with a full fluid top-up.

The CAR team dutifully topped it up in my absence, but I got the message again – yes, I know, I should use the computer to check it more often… – just recently, with just under 13,000 miles on the clock, and so another litre went in.

The M5’s oil was also topped up when it went back to BMW to get its winter rubber swapped at the end of Feb (approx. 8000 miles), so we’re looking at a litre of oil every 3000-4000 miles or so. That’s a reasonably healthy appetite, if nothing particularly out of the ordinary.

By Ben Barry

A quick read through this longterm logbook reveals that I have, like so many politicans, been a little remiss at declaring all my expenses. So I started to make a list of all the options fitted to the BMW M5, but then I got carried away. Which is why I’ve also added an explanation of what the options are where needed, plus whether or not I’d specify this option again (the Yes or No bit). Further below, I take a look at the options we haven’t got, the stuff that comes as standard, and how I’d spec my own M5. So, first up, the options we’ve got…

1. Silverstone full Merino leather, £5445. It’s a beautifully trimmed interior, but can it really be £3.5k more beautiful than the BMW Individual leather at £1885? No.
2. Reversing assist camera, £330. It’s a big car, and using this dash-mounted screen quickly becomes second nature. Yes.
3. Climate comfort windscreen, £215. An infrared reflective laminate keeps the interior cabin cooler in direct sunlight. Yes.
4. M multi-function seats, front, £875. I’ve not tried the standard seats, but these optional extras are fantastic. Yes.
5. Through-loading ski-bag, £75. I don’t ski, I don’t need it. No.
6. Split-folding rear seats, £375. Should be standard. Yes.
7. High-beam assistant, £130. Turns off full beam as traffic approaches. Never used it. No.
8. Lane-departure warning system, £400. Activated via a button to the right of the steering wheel. Once travelling at speeds in excess of 40 mph, a camera mounted beneath the rear-view mirror detects lane markings. If the car deviates from the lane without the use of indicators, the steering wheel vibrates as an alert. Never used it. No.
9. Lane-change warning system. Again activated via a button to the right of the steering wheel. Once travelling at speeds in excess of 30 mph, a radar-based system monitors blind spots to the rear and side of the car. Warnings are displayed on the side-view mirrors and the steering wheel vibrates if you’re still determined to have an accident. £470. Never used it, so it’s a no from me.
10. Surround view, £530. Cameras in the side of the front bumper relay images back to the dash-mounted screen, the left-hand half of the screen showing the left-hand side of the car and vice versa. I find it a bit confusing to look at and have only ever used it out of curiosity. No.
11. Mobile application preparation, £130. I just pair my phone up with the standard Bluetooth. No.
12. Internet, £95. My car has the internet. Really? I suppose I should try to use it. A reserved yes.
13. Loudspeaker system, BMW Professional, £330. Great stereo. Yes.
14. Sun protection glass, £295. I’ve got kids who sleep with their faces pressed up against the glass and those stick-on sunblinds are a pain. Yes.
15. Speed-limit display, £250. Never relied on it, but spotted a couple of times when it’s been wrong. No.
16. Headlining, anthracite Alcantara, £795. It does add a lot of class. Yes.

TOTAL COST OF OPTIONS: £10,740
TOTAL COST OF CAR: £73,040 + £10,740 = £83,780

The options NOT fitted to our M5 are listed below. Again, I’ve explained them where necessary, and stated whether or not I’d like them.

1. Rear-seat entertainment, BMW Professional, £2130. TV screens in the rear headrests. It’s pricey and you can get aftermarket stuff far cheaper, but it keeps the kids happy. Let’s be indulgent. Yes.
2. Powered bootlid, £430. No.
3. Electric tow-bar, £805. No.
4. Rear-seat reading lights, £305. No
5. Oscillating seat-base function, £595. Indulgent, but the massage seats worked brilliantly in my E63 AMG Merc. Yes.
6. Heated rear seats, £305. The kids are still in child seats, and £305 goes a long way to my massage seats. Sorry kids. No.
7. Ventillated front seats, £510. No.
8. Soft-close doors, £435. Funny how many times I fail to close the M5’s doors fully, where soft-close doors finish the job for you. I’d like them, but probably not enough to invest that much. No.
9. Steering wheel heating, £185. Lovely on those winter mornings. Yes.
10. Electric rear sunblind, £300. I’ve already got the tints. No.
11. Alcantara headlining, BMW Individual, £1060. No.
12. Night-vision, with pedestrian recognition, £1510. I’ve only tried Merc’s system before, but it seemed an absolute waste of time. No.
13. Comfort access, £665. Unlocks doors when you approach with key in your pocket (ie you don’t have to press a button), and enables touch-free opening of bootlid. Yes.
14. BMW Individual Merino leather, £1885 (replaced by our car’s £5445 leather). Yes.
15. Optional paint finishes (Amazonite Silver, Azurite Black, Champagne Quartz, Citrine Black, Moonstone), £1045. No.
16. 20-inch double-spoke alloys wheels, £2080. They do look better, but I’m not ashamed of my 19s, and they’ll probably be the best compromise. No.
17. Model designation deletion, NO COST. You have to be pretty cool to take the badge of your M5. I’ll pretend I’m cool. Yes.
18. Rear-spoiler deletion NO COST. It’s hardly an in-your-face wing, and surely it’s useful at high speed. No.
19. Exterior trim, matt aluminium, NO COST. I think the gloss-black trim on my car is a bit tacky. A cautious yes, but I’d like to see another car with this option first.
20. 12v power sockets, £45. No.
21. TV function, £870. No.
22. Interior trims (Auburn Sycamore wood trim,  Honey Brown Satin walnut wood trim, Piano Black), £460. No.

TOTAL COST OF REMAINING OPTIONS: £16,550
MAXIMUM AMOUNT POSSIBLE TO SPEND ON M5 OPTIONS: £27,290

The stuff that comes as standard with our M5:
1. Monte Carlo Blue metallic paint
2. Aluminium trace interior trim
3. Lumbar support for driver and front passenger
4. Telephone USB audio interface
5. Headling, anthracite (replaced by our car’s £795 anthracite Alcantara)
6. Extended Merino leather (replaced by our car’s £5445 leather)
7. 19-inch double-spoke alloys
8. Loudspeaker system, BMW Business (replaced by our car’s Professional system, £330)
9. Voice control
10. DAB radio
11. Sat-nav, BMW Professional multi-media
12. Bluetooth phone prep
13. Folding, auto-dimming side mirrors
14. Electric glass sunroof
15. Exterior trim, high-gloss shadowline
16. Ambient lighting, Includes lighting elements to all door openings, front footwell lights in underside of instrument panel, door handle recess and door pocket lighting front and rear. Includes chrome strips on exterior door handles.
17. Velour floor mats
18. Auto dimming rear-view mirror
19. Heated front seats
20. Four-zone air-con
21. Adaptive headlights
22. First aid kit and triangle
23. Tyre pressure monitor
24. Thatcham 1-approved alarm
25. Xenon headlights
26. Parking sensors, front and rear
27. Headlight wash
28. USB audio interface
29. Electronic damper control
30. Seven-speed dual-clutch gearbox

And that leaves us with how I would spec my perfect M5…
1. Reversing assist camera, £330.
2. Climate comfort windscreen, £215.
3. M multi-function seats, front, £875.
4. Split-folding rear seats, £375.
5. Internet, £95.
6. Loudspeaker system, BMW Professional, £330.
7. Sun protection glass, £295.
8. Rear-seat entertainment, BMW Professional, £2130.
9. Oscillating seat-base function, £595.
10. Steering wheel heating, £185.
11. Headlining, anthracite Alcantara, £795.
12. Comfort access, £665.
13. BMW Individual Merino leather, £1885
14. Model designation deletion, NO COST.
15. Exterior trim, matt aluminium, NO COST.

TOTAL COST OF MY IDEAL OPTIONS LIST: £8770
TOTAL COST INCLUDING CAR: £73,040 + £8770 = £81,810

By Ben Barry

Had a quick peek at the M5’s cross-drilled brake discs the other day and noticed they were clogged with carbon deposits. Every hole on the front discs is full, while the rear discs are slowly filling up. I actually ended up inspecting them after feeling that the brakes weren’t performing as well as they had: the pedal feel is too soft for my liking, and I’m not convinced that they’re totally up to stopping a car of this power and weight in give-or-take situations. 

I’ve found myself triggering the ABS on a few occasions now, and I know that would have culminated in a lock-up and, perhaps, a crash if the ABS safety net wasn’t there.

That’s a shame, because M has a reputation for equipping its cars with marginal brakes, and I’d hoped that the new F10 with its six-pot stoppers would put an end to that. Anyway, I’ll give them a clean and see what happens.

By Ben Barry

I suppose that, if one were lucky enough to run a 552bhp super saloon every day, familiarity would gradually erode the shock-and-awe of the BMW’s performance and all-round ability. Handily, my passenger ride during a visit to CAR Magazine this month should have more than rekindled regular custodian Ben Barry’s first impressions of this family-friendly supercar. Provoking a snort of laughter from your passenger simply through the performance of the vehicle you’re driving will tend to do that.

'I’m downstairs in the car park – do you want to come and jump into the M5?' came the message. That’s an offer that doesn’t come along with much regularity, and certainly isn’t one to be refused. One minute I’m in CAR's offices, the next I’m belted in to an interior swathed in £5445 worth of (rather family-unfriendly) Silverstone Merino leather and Alcantara, about to be driven around the best roads on offer within 10 miles of CAR Towers by a man familiar with the F10 M5 like few others and known for having a severe distain for cold, unworn rear rubber.

My bank of comparative experiences is fairly lean – I suppose a passenger ride in a current-gen Cayenne Turbo comes closest. A beautifully appointed cabin and twin-turbo V8 are commonalities which straddle the two, but otherwise, as you might not be too surprised to learn, the abiding impressions of riding shotgun is quite different.

For a start, the BMW is quite remarkably muted at low revs. With the gearbox automatically shuffling through to its longest ratio, a distant rumble not remotely fruity in tone, and a hint of turbo whoosh do a pretty good impression of a 535d. And no, try as I might, I couldn’t isolate the synthetic V8 burble pumped through the car’s hi-fi either.

Of course, such good behaviour is only a temporary stay of execution while the powerplant is coaxed up to temperature. If actions do indeed speak louder than words, then kissing a sonorous 7000rpm moments after the oik in the passenger seat asks if turbos have robbed the M5 of a decent top-end is surely a fine example. While the V8 does indeed bellow an impressive voice as the tachometer points to the exciting side of the dial, by this point the noise becomes a sideshow to the pace of scenery blurring past the window like a demented fast-forward button.

Readers of more mature vintage than my 20-something years will have seen cars getting larger and heftier for a lot longer than I have, but even to a veritable spring chicken, the sensation of linking up corners in Mr Barry’s exuberant driving style felt faintly ridiculous in something the size of the 1945kg M5. You hear the tyres complaining in the distance, but the Pilot Super Sports sound like they’re tucked away a good 30 feet behind your headrest somewhere.

There’s some truth in that – we left a good deal of the black stuff many miles behind us as it turned out.

That’s not to say the M5 is ungainly or feels out-of-control when it’s pushed. The body control was exemplary given the typically lumpy road surface, substantial mass and 19-inch alloys, only becoming unsettled as the weight transferred under braking on some particularly pockmarked asphalt.

As I said, the M5 is one of those cars whose dynamic abilities are so ludicrous it can produce spontaneous, involuntary laughter, but it also requires quiet reflection to absorb the first encounter. Ben broke the palpable silence as we nosed back into CAR HQ with this assessment: 'The thing is, you have to be absolutely driving the nuts off this thing to really appreciate the very best of it.' I’ve taken the liberty of paraphrasing a certain word in that sentence review.

In that case, when you next catch a glimpse of an M5 barrelling along at a considerable rate of knots, simply remind yourself that the driver is seeking only to unlock the hidden depths of dynamic talent from his considerable investment. 

By Ollie Kew

A month or so after I first got the M5, a powertrain warning light bonged up on the dash. Performance wasn’t affected, but I took it easy, then pulled over when I could and – in the classic IT department style – turned the car off and switched it on again. The light stayed on, so I decided to complete the final few miles to work at a gentle pace. When I re-started the M5 later that day, the light had vanished, but I gave BMW a call anyway. Keep an eye on it, they said.

Everything was fine for a couple of weeks, then I got another warning bong, while power was restricted this time. Mmm, bit more worrying. Soon after I got a call from BMW saying the car needed to go back for a day. It wasn’t a recall, they said, just a ‘campaign’, but the fact remained that there was clearly a problem and one that needed sorting out.

And the problem was? Well, it turns out that the M5 can temporarily exceed the maximum recommended boost pressure if the car is driven in anger. It affects all of the 500 or so M5s sold in the UK to date, so all owners should have been notified.

The M5 was with BMW for a day and I’ve since covered a few thousand miles without that warning bong popping up again. Fingers crossed it'll stay that way.

By Ben Barry

I first got my hands on the M5 back in late December, but this weekend was the first time its stop/start system has ever worked. You know what stop/start is, right? It automatically cuts the engine when you’re stationary, then re-starts it as soon as you step off the brake pedal. So why hasn’t mine been working?

Now, to be fair I do live in a fairly rural area and my commute usually involves starting the car, driving 12 miles down the A1, then stopping the car. Of course, there are exceptions to that, where I’ll be stopped at traffic lights or stuck in traffic, and it was during these occasions that I realised that the stop/start wasn’t working. I started to wonder if it was my driving style, or perhaps because I like to have the throttle response in its most aggressive setting. I even parked the car, put all the settings into their most conservative defaults – auto gearbox with the least aggressive shift speeds, traction control on, soggy throttle response, soft suspension, comfort steering – and left it running, and still the V8 kept rumbling.

Then, yesterday, it suddenly started working all the time. The M5’s stop/start cuts in and out pretty smoothly, but I did end up getting away from a busy roundabout slightly more slowly than I would have otherwise done had the engine have already been running. If that kind of thing annoys you, you can turn the M5’s system off, but you always have to remember to turn it off every time you start the car. Overall, I like it, and I like the idea of not wasting fuel while you’re idling in traffic, so I’ll continue to leave mine on.

But why has my system not been working? I reckon it’s a temperature thing: yesterday was the hottest day of the year so far, and the M5’s temperature reading nudged up to 17degC at one point.

With generally warmer weather on the way, hopefully the stop/start will help to reduce the fuel consumption a little: mine is down to 18.3mpg according to the fuel computer.

By Ben Barry

Not long after the snow melted, I took a gamble and switched the M5’s Pirelli Sottozero winter tyres back to the standard Michelin Pilot Super Sport 19s. The comments below generally urged me not to, but I wanted the car back to its best. The winter tyres were absolutely phenomenal in the snow, but it now looks highly likely that the little snow that we did have in Peterborough this winter has gone for good, and none of it would have seen me stranded had I had summer tyres anyway.

For the rest of the time, the temperatures have been unseasonably high, and so the Sottozeroes haven’t been able to shine. Instead they’ve reduced traction – I’ve been driving about with the traction control in the mid-way setting to give the rubber some leeway and save the power being constantly cut – and they’ve also introduced an element of sogginess to the M5’s handling. The tyres genuinely spoil the car’s dynamics, and I don’t think that’s right when you’re dealing with something as sporting as an M5.

The Michelins are now back on, the temperatures are getting even higher – my phone’s predicting a balmy 14degC on Thursday – and the handling is sharper and the traction is on a different planet. Clearly, the joke’s on me if it does snow but, come on, how bad can it be…

On another note, I’ve had a couple of drivetrain warning lights bong up on the dash recently, and the man from BMW now says it needs to come in for a ‘campaign’. I think that’s German for recall. All very intriguing. I’ll report back soon.

And, finally, don't miss the BMW M5 group test in the new March 2012 issue of CAR Magazine out now. Our M5 long-termer takes on the Jaguar XF-R, Porsche Panamera S and Mercedes CLS 63 AMG. Lots of sideways slidery ensues...

By Ben Barry

Watch just about any news update on the travel chaos caused by snow in the UK and the chances are you’ll see a BMW sitting there spinning its rear tyres and slithering across the carriageway. But my M5 long-termer has been fitted with 19-inch Pirelli Sottozero winter tyres, so I took it out last night and purposely went looking for trouble.

There was still a few inches of snow where I’d parked on a very slight hill, and that’s been enough to completely strand a Jag XF on summer tyres in the past. However, the M5’s rear boots simply dug into the slippery stuff, and out we crunched. From there the roads were pretty clear, so I decided to head off down some country lanes, lanes that were still covered in heavy slush. Combined with heavy fog, this was actually pretty treacherous, and even though I’m familiar with these B-routes, the lack of reference points in the conditions meant the corners and junctions kept taking me by surprise.

I was initially extremely cautious, worrying that I’d understeer into the undergrowth, but every time I turned the wheel, the front tyres bit as if the road was just wet. Traction was assured too, the rear tyres finding purchase despite the slush. Even under heavy acceleration or braking, the rubber still bit into the surface, with an absolute minimum of intervention from the traction control or ABS system.

This was all too easy, so I returned home and headed into a nearby housing estate that was on a hill and hadn’t been touched by an ounce of grit. I drove all the way to the bottom of the hill, and selected reverse. Now, there’s nothing worse than being stuck in reverse in a powerful rear-drive car – in an auto too, with no clutch control – at the bottom of a snowy hill. You can probably guess what happened: I simply reversed out, turned myself around, and drove back up the hill.

I’d previously seen a post on Twitter asking for people with 4x4s to help pull other motorists out of the snow and, to be honest, I felt like going along and lending a hand; surely I had better traction than an SUV on summer tyres.

All of which gives me a dilemma: I have the chance to switch the winter tyres back to summer Michelins later this week. And I’m tempted, because the winters spoil the M5’s normally sharp handling, and because winters won’t help me when everyone else has already blocked the motorway I’m trying to use. But it’s also fair to say that the winters gave me a lot of confidence to go places over the weekend, especially with a young family aboard. What would you do, switch back to summers, or stick with the winters for another month?

By Ben Barry

How fast can our long-term BMW M5 go? It’s got to be pretty fast, hasn’t it, what with 4.4 litres of twin-turbo V8 goodness and 552bhp and 501lb ft. Fast enough to get yourself a severe telling off, I’d wager. Too fast to talk your way out of it with a ‘Was I really officer? I’m so sorry, it just slips past 150mph so easily, you know? Bloody thing!’

Well, just before midnight last night I decided to find out once and for all on a quiet stretch of (ahem) autobahn. The temperature gauge read -2degC and I was sitting there at about 100mph in fourth with the traction control in its middle setting. Full throttle saw the rev needle spin round the dial, accompanied by some traction control intervention and a strobing yellow light on the dash. Not a particularly nice feeling, that.

There was no let up when I pulled for fifth and the gear snapped home instantly with a nice, direct little thump. There was more flickering from the traction control light, but I didn’t feel any intervention and the speed kept piling on: 130mph, 140mph, 150mph, that amazing engine doing the thick, tight gurgly thing it does as you do as you get towards the top of the rev range.

At some point – and I’m not sure exactly when – I tapped the right-hand paddleshift and moved up into sixth gear. No traction control intervention this time, but we were still accelerating pretty quickly – wind noise intensifying, lampposts blurring, the road warping hypnotically towards me – so much so that the soft rev limiter felt a little premature when it held out its invisible hand at what the clock said was a smidge under 170mph, and probably much less if we’d have had some finely calibrated timing gear strapped on.

There were plenty of revs in reserve, the car felt stable… I’d have happily gone a good bit faster, which made the experience slightly underwhelming. I wanted to chicken out first, wanted the car to dare me to go beyond what was comfortable. We didn't photograph the V-max run, thought my passenger did reach over and shoot a more mundane 130kph cruise on the Continent.

I remember maxing a Z4M in Germany, and that didn’t stop until the clock said 175mph, and it felt absolutely insane, especially because the passenger window wouldn’t close properly. My E36 M3, being a very early one, allegedly has no limiter at all, but I’ve never taken it much beyond 140mph because it just feels so ragged up there. The M5, though? I reckon that’d be fine way up past 180mph.

So, if you’re lucky enough to own a new F10 BMW M5, regularly visit the land of the autobahn and don’t particularly like the idea of a 535d nipping at your quad tailpipes, what can be done? My previous Mercedes E63 AMG longtermer had a de-limit as part of a factory option pack and BMW has a Driver’s Package which raises the – still limited – top speed to 190mph. That’d do the job, wouldn’t it? Well, BMW UK doesn’t offer the Driver’s Package, on the grounds that you can’t go that fast in the UK and they’ve got a social responsibility. But 155mph or so is okay? Hmm, I’m sure it’s a tricky issue for them.

All of this simply leaves the door wide open for aftermarket tuners to crack open the ECU and unleash the extra potential. I expect they’ll be seeing a good number of F10 M5s over the coming years.

By Ben Barry

In what will perhaps turn out to be an unusual spec once we start seeing more F10 M5s on the road, my M5 rides on the standard 19-inch alloys, rather than the optional 20s. I don’t think the rims look too small but, conversely given the thinner sidewalls, I don’t remember the ride being any worse on a car I drove last summer with 20s fitted, nor the car feeling any less agile. But if I were speccing a car, I’d probably stick with the 19s too, because they’re standard, and replacement tyres will cost less. And with all that extra torque on tap, you have to imagine the new rear rubber is getting much more of a workout than the old E60 M5’s rear boots ever did. 

As standard, the new M5 comes on 265/40 ZR19 front and 295/35 ZR19 rear Michelin Pilot Super Sports. Shod like this, the M5 has surprisingly high front-end grip and masses of rear-end traction, despite the mid-range wallop afforded by the new twin-turbo V8. The way it retains a consistent and trustworthy grip level once you’re sliding the car is impressive too, meaning you feel confident breaching the car’s high limits and blurring the boundary between grip and slip.

However, after a couple of snowy winters, some press offices have started to fit their test cars with winter tyres, and my M5 is no exception: it’s now on Pirelli Sottozeros. These tyres are supposed to come into their own below 7deg C and in snowy conditions, but the temperature gauge was nailed at an unseasonably warm 10deg C when I took delivery of the car in December, meaning the tyres would actually offer inferior performance.

So, before I’d stuck the kids aboard to head home to Cumbria for Christmas, I gave the M5 a couple of squirts around a roundabout to feel the grip level, and it still felt like I had adhesion to lean against when the car started to slide, unlike the SLS AMG Roadster we’d had in on winters the week before, which seemed to flail a bit. But accelerating up sliproads relatively keenly in third gear, I started to get a hell of a lot of traction control intervention and, to be honest, I wasn’t totally sure how much I could lean on the rubber in these warmer conditions.

The second it snows I wouldn’t want anything but the Sottozeroes, but winter tyres are something of a gamble: are you going to fit them for five months of the year and compromise your performance car in order to safeguard you in the snow, something that typically lasts just a few days, if it happens at all? I’m lucky enough to live somewhere that’s pretty well connected by some fairly major roads, so I wouldn’t fit them, and I’m looking forward to getting back on the Michelins to feel the M5 at its best.

By Ben Barry

Almost exactly 10 years since I bought my first BMW M car – an E36 M3 – I’ve been lucky enough to take delivery of a new long-termer, the latest F10M-spec M5. With 552bhp and 501lb ft, the M5 has roughly double the power and torque of the old M3 that’s still tucked up in my garage. That’s pretty incredible, considering the E36 still feels like a fairly rapid car. Funnily enough, the M5’s colour combo reminds me of the old Estoril Blue/silver leather pairing that was such a staple of the old E36 Evo too.

I’ve done only a few hundred miles in this car so far, but I haven’t really got to stretch the M5’s legs: instead my first mission was to load it with two kids’ seats, and fill the boot with bags and Christmas presents. Both of which was easy, thanks to easily accessible Isofix points in the back (sometimes they’re fiddly and tucked away, which makes me shout), and a large, deep boot with a wide opening.

Kids and wife aboard, I snuggled into the plump driver’s seat and dropped it down to the floor, then fired the 4395cc twin-turbo V8 and pointed us up the A1 from Lincolnshire to Cumbria. The new M5 lets you tailor its throttle response, steering weight, suspension settings and gearshift modes, but I didn’t mess with any of that: I just left it all in Comfort, and the seven-speed dual-clutch gearbox in its default mode, the first of its three settings.

I noticed one anorak detail as I pulled away: the auto handbrake automatically disengages, where every other new 5-series insists that you do it manually. I always find this infuriating – why would I want the handbrake to stay on if I’m accelerating away in first gear? – so it’s interesting that the M bucks the trend. Is this a philosophy thing on the part of M Division – where the driver is firmly in control and doesn’t like being nannied by the car – or is it that the unique-to-the-M5 dual-clutch gearbox wouldn’t enjoy straining against the handbrake? I’ll have to ask Munich and risk being labelled a nerd before I can answer that.

If you’ve ever driven the old E60 M5, there are a couple of things you’ll instantly notice when you drive its successor: first is the easy flexibility afforded by that twin-turbo V8, which brings a new-found effortlessness to motorway cruising, the V8 giving a distant, tympanic rumbling that’s very, very different to the old car’s V10. It’s not as engaging as the naturally aspirated V10 when you wind it out, but it’s definitely quicker, and there’s the promise of big economy gains over the old car too. More on that later.

The other big difference is the gearchange: the E60 M5 used a seven-speed clutchless manual transmission with six different shift speeds. Despite – or perhaps because of – these multitudinous options, I never quite found the perfect setting in the old car. And the delay between gear changes was at times agonisingly ponderous, at others ferociously vicious. The new ’box is faster and much smoother, but it also has a pleasingly direct engagement, rather than a slur, and I know what I want in terms of settings: the third, most aggressive one for manual mode, and either mode one or two in auto. The gearbox is one of the new car’s biggest leaps.

As ever with dual-clutch auto M cars, one tap on the paddleshifter is all it takes to switch from auto to manual mode, and that’s definitely a philosophy thing on the part of M Division: the driver is in charge, and he doesn’t want the gearbox to overrule him and default back to auto like so many rivals do. By and large I agree with this, but every now and again on the journey home for Christmas, I found myself leaving the car in auto and pulling the paddles to make an overtake on the motorway, then forgetting I’d now completely transitioned to manual mode. It might be nice to be able to configure that through iDrive, so you can choose an auto mode that defaults back to auto even after you’ve pulled the paddles. After all, pulling the gearstick to the right locks you into manual mode anyway. Or perhaps I’m going soft here.

One thing that hasn’t changed much is the ride quality: this M5 still rides magnificently, and it’s such a quiet, comfortable, smooth thing to cruise about in that it’s incredibly easy to sneak up past 90mph without even realising it.

However, on our first trip the weather was largely foul and the M62 seemed covered almost entirely in 50mph zones, so while I did hit 90mph or more on a few occasions, my typical cruising speed was a more plod-friendly 70mph or so. I was intrigued to see how much fuel the M5’s new turbocharged engine would use – after all, the smaller turbo motor goes against M’s previous DNA, and has been introduced to make M cars cleaner and more frugal – and I’d zeroed the trip computer before we set off. After a few hours on the motorway with the engine nicely warmed through and the ’box mostly in seventh gear, the dash confirmed we’d averaged 24.6mpg. In similar circumstances, my old Mercedes E63 AMG would have averaged 21-22mpg, so the M5 offers a worthwhile improvement – although it’s worth noting that the new E63 engine is also smaller and turbocharged, and therefore more frugal than my old 6.2 V8 was.

If anything’s going to challenge the M5’s so-far-impressive mpg figures, it’s the next week or so: while I’m back home in Cumbria, I’ll be sneaking the M5 out onto some of my favourite back roads and having a bit more fun.

By Ben Barry

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