Fast and Furious

These cars whisper rather than scream at their speed potential. As the ol' saying goes, "it ain't the size of the wave, but the motion of the ocean that matters." Enough said. Put your foot down and try it on for size, by Leow Ju-Len & Valerie Wee

Subaru Forester: Boxer Rebellion

If you're thinking of Subarus on steroids, one car's sure to come to mind: the giant-killing Impreza WRX. Bred by Special Stages, fed by a turbo with a giant intercooler, and tenacious as a leech around bends, the WRX is Subaru's poster boy, the one car able to provoke instant nail-biting among supercar owners. Years ago, clueless Porsche owners might have laughed one off, only to be shown what the Impreza's exhaust pipes look like. But such is the icon status of the WRX today, that whenever one draws up alongside a would-be challenger, you'd much rather be cowed into pretending to be on the phone, or fiddling with the radio, than comtemplate a friendly sprint with the Impreza driver.

It's fast, furious and all the rest of it. And altogether too obvious, for our purposes anyway. The Impreza is not only fast, it looks it with its bonnet scoop, 16-inch alloys and of course, picnic table-sized rear wing. It's hardly the best tool with which to spring Jekyll/Hyde personality switches on an unsuspecting victim.

Which is where the Forester comes in. On first impression, all it confronts you with is a soft-roader in the vein of Honda's CR-V, or perhaps a Land Rover Freelander. All those cars lack the proper off-roading ability of true 4x4s, and would be run rings around by any hot hatch. Except, perhaps, for the Forester.

In the Forester S/Turbo's case, there's a mechanical link to the WRX in the form of a turbocharged 2-litre flat four. Tuned for a healthy 170bhp and 240N m of peak torque along the way, the Forester isn't brutally quick, but it's just an ankle flex away from making your initial impressions of the ungainly-looking brute do a quick about-face. Stretch that right leg, and the Forester takes off like a coyote that had just sat on a cactus. It's every bit the dark horse of the small-SUV world.

It's a tall car, of course, which lends itself to exaggerated pitch and roll. The surprise, however, is that it sails through fast corners with ease, hanging on with a neutrality that turns into mild understeer at worst. It's at slow corners that it sometimes struggles, its wide, off-roading tyres protesting loudly at the strain of having to deflect the car's mass. Thanks to four wheel-drive though, the tyres seldom have to struggle with containing the torque from the engine. Sure, you'll chirp in inside wheel if you leave a u-turn with sufficient aggression, but other than that, the Forester never lacks traction.

It was once faster than this, with 250bhp in its arsenal, before the rules decided that having clean air to breathe was more important than having something to live and breathe for. Still, even with a decrease of a good 80 horsepower worth of muscle, the Forester retains the ability to surprise - pleasantly, in the owner's case, and less so for anyone else who mistakes the Subaru for a tottering dawdler.

Volvo S60 T-5: Swift Swede

You might find this hard to believe, but Volvo actually has a rich chapter of fast, insane cars in its history. Think 244 Turbo, T-5R, 850 R, S70 T-5, and S70 R. The S60 T5 may be demonically quick, but compared to some of its loony, square-edged ancestors, it's as sensible as an accountant.

As far as Jekyll-and-Hyde cars go, the Volvo exhibits both personality extremes. As per the requirements of a mild-mannered doctor, it's a proper luxury car. The S60's cabin may not ooze quality in the same manner that a BMW's does, but it's still spacious and well-appointed, and the front seats welcome your behind like plush, wide lounge chairs. It's also one size up from the 3 Series and C-class, giving it the most spacious interior among its other illustrious rivals.

What counts here is the dollar-for-dollar, where the S60 packs the mightiest wallop of any junior executive sedan. The base S60 has more power than the two starting rungs on the ladders of either C-class or 3 Series ownership, and that alone should commend it to performance car hunters. But to uncover the Mr Hyde lurking within all of us, the full-blown T5 is the ideal potion.

From 2.3-litres divided over five cylinders comes 250bhp, courtesy of - what else - a Garrett T3 turbocharger. It's almost insane when you think about it. Why? Because I can think of Ferraris, Porsches and Maseratis within my lifetime that were far less powerful.

Is there a supercar hiding underneath the tense lines of the Volvo's broad body, then? Not quite, but there is one that you really shouldn't bother to race against. It's a really fast car. Apart from the lethargy of a few moments of turbo lag, the T5 is fiendishly quick. At 3,000rpm the turbo begins to blow, but it isn't until 500rpm later that push comes to shove. When that happens, you'd better have a good grip on the steering wheel, not merely because you'll have to steer the Volvo around cars that seem to have come to a halt around you, but also because all the T5's power is channelled through its front wheels, turning the quest for straight-line progress into a battle with epic torque steer.

On the street, it's terrific fun. There are few cars that would squirt themselves from one point to another with such dramatic urgency. The handling is decent too, at least up to a point. The Volvo turns in sharply, like an Audi A6, and its tail stays put no matter what you do with the throttle. Rather, it's the front end of the car that scrubs its way into an ever widening line if you choose to boot the throttle too much, too soon. Around low speed corners, the Volvo is just hilarious if you try to exit hard, reducing the rubber of the inside tyre to expensive plumes of blue smoke. Against 330N m of torque, even the sticky Michelin Pilots of our test car didn't stand a chance, revealing yet another insanity: the T5 has no traction control system. It's optional, rather than standard equipment. In some cars, you hardly ever notice that traction control exists. Assuming a lack of self control in certain drivers, traction control would be working overtime in the T5.

On the track, the T5 would be lousy, understeering if you went in too hard, and if you tried to come out too hard. In that respect, it shares a lot with its immediate predecessor, the S70 T-5. That car, too, combined raw power with an inability to cope. It had 225bhp under the bonnet, but felt faster than today's T5, mostly because the turbo lag was greater, and the chassis even less able to cope with the power. That car also had a fearsome appetite for front tyres. But in the right circumstances - with a cocksure BMW driver beside you at the lights, for example - it was a scream.

Nice to know that some things never change.

Bentley Arnage Red Label: Bent On Speed

The Bentley marque, with its illustrious heritage behind it, has always been known for cars that exude prestige and class. But like the past English era of heaving bodices, frilled cuffs and crushed velvet shirt tails, all of which belies a stirring deep dark passion within, the Arnage Red Label is one genteel looking steed with plenty of "grrrr" suppressed behind its hooded eyelids.

The Red Label is a stately looking road craft that suits plutocrats with posh accents. Looks are certainly deceiving though. Remember, "Arnage" is just one letter short of "carnage". With an almost obscene pull of 835N m at a mere 2100rpm and 400bhp turbocharged thoroughbreds raring at the gates, The Red Label will accelerate brutally to 100km/h in under six seconds, leaving most lighter, pipsqueak GTis and would-be- sportscars idling in shame, with their drivers in awe of that 5.64m long cruise mobile taking flight. Indeed, even though the Arnage Red Label is all top grade Bird's Eye maple veneer, soft leather and Connelly carpets, it is thoroughly intended to rear its hot rod head when the mood sets in.

Jekyll and Hyde, we say? Yes perhaps, but with Jeeves mostly at the wheel. However, should "Sir" require a little fix of performance adrenaline, the Red Label is not one to demur from a spot of wheelspin.

The ride in this carriage is almost sublime. But the roar of it's primal V8 engine and substantial wind noise may put you off from getting too heavy-footed with the right pedal. Besides, due to its luxurious lifestyle, the Arnage sports a beer belly that makes it just 330kg shy of being a 3-tonner. Imagine the momentum it picks up. Now, the Arnage may be a sportier option to a Rolls but trying to stop it in the middle of its high speed rampages occasionally sprouts a few more silvery tuffs on that pate of yours. Especially when you find out that this million-dollar Bentley isn't exactly comprehensive on its safety equipment count - stability control and side airbags simply have no place in an old school car like this.

However, if you have the appropriate body bits to dare ricochet round corners, the Arnage will oblige with nary a sweaty brow. With so much power on tap, a deviating Arnage can be sweetly corrected with a twiddle of the toes and a wrist flick of its feathery light steering rim.

To be continued....>>>