![]() This one’s humming along to the same autotune backing track as a GTI, but there’s no arguing with the punch. ![]() The old Golf R shapeshifted from Subaru flat-four impression to wannabe Audi Quattro. Which reminds me, thanks to the wad of old rugby socks and cotton wool everyone has to stuff up the exhaust these days, the noise has lost some personality. ![]() Imagine that: a Volkswagen undercutting the declared numbers. They say it’s 0.2secs quicker from zero to 60, but VW’s claim of 4.7secs is a few tenths down on what we got out of a DSG-equipped Golf R six years ago. Yup, you’re right to question just what – besides the controversial button-ectomy inside – is new about the MkVIII R? Same chassis, same drivetrain, same power. Up a mere 10bhp from the last car, it’s paired with the same seven-speed DSG which became compulsory during the MkVII’s reign. You get the torque band of a diesel with max twist from 2,100–5,350rpm, where 316bhp takes over. Of engine-off coasting and boost the power delivery, this was never a motor that suffered from turbo narcolepsy. It’s pretty much the same four-cylinder turbo unit you got in the last R, and in the GTI and Clubsport, and though there’s no 48V hybrid system, to allow a bit Speaking of which: “You are now leaving Kettering, please drive safely.” Gut. Predictably the internet’s already awash with insane PCP deals offering the MkVIII R’s all-weather, any-occasion dream for less than you drop on DisneyFlixPrimePlus. I’d set aside some change for a steering lock, GPS tracker and a slobbering doberman if you don’t trust your neighbours. I don’t even miss the now abandoned manual: seamless DSG suits the R’s character, and the majority of fans bought five-door automatics last time, some specced beyond 40 grand. Suddenly, this car’s huge £39k sticker doesn’t seem like such a daunting leap. VW was able to tease the price up as the years passed, hoiking the original £29,995 RRP for a manual three-door to £37k last year, by which time only five-door DSGs were on the menu. Every 300bhp hot hatch since is now automatically ‘so-and-so’s Golf R rival’. No pressure, but everyone’s expecting a legend. So, this difficult eighth album is a bit of a Mick Schumacher. “Average speed check zone ahead.” And then an even more horrifying sign looms on the horizon. until the Google Maps lady butts in with an announcement. ![]() The Golf’s taking this gnarly onslaught of nature, terrain and other people’s Hondas in its stride. This could cost us time, but the train of slowcoaches check their mirrors, note the blaze of LEDs coming in hot, and move over. The new Golf R momentarily skates over the frozen splodge before resuming its heat-seeking missile obedience, but we’re closing in on traffic. This morning’s rain drip-drops from branches overhead, greasing the surface long after the shower has ended. Patches of slippery shade lurk opposite wooded thickets, where the feeble sun hasn’t penetrated the filthy slush. Blind brows, rollercoaster dips, vicious off-camber kinks sprinkled in four seasons’ worth of weather and the constant spectre of dawdling traffic spoiling a perfectly hooked-up lap.
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