Alpina B5 Touring

The possession of ‘character’ is about rather more than lurid noises, swooping curves and only a loose notion of what the term reliability entails. Those sorts of things can certainly induce our affection and awe, but there’s a reason why neither the Audi R8 V10 Plus (noises) nor Ferrari’s new Portofino (curves) float my boat. These coveted machines simply don’t feel particularly comfortable in their skin and, just like people, that makes them harder to like because there’s a basic honesty missing, intentionally or otherwise. The R8 is a sports car contrived by way of its magnificent engine to pose awkwardly as a supercar that it simply is not. The dramatic-looking Portofino attempts to marry the virtues of riviera cruiser and hyper-alert sports car with little success. What exactly are you?

It’s a similar story with the new Volkswagen Polo GTI: it is competent and damnably quick but never really buys into the stoked-up supermini thing. Audi A7? Surprisingly loveable were it not for its crap secondary ride. Porsche 718 Cayman? Raison d’être unforgivably impaled by a more ‘efficient’ engine. These cars lack conviction.

Cars that are intrinsically fit for purpose are characterful not only because proficiency is attractive but also because they are more up front about their weaknesses. An Alpine A110 feels a bit ropey inside but the car itself is as light as a feather. The driver is an afterthought in a Huracán Performante but it hardly matters because everything about that particular Lamborghini screams ‘mentale!’, just as it should. It’s why we were all very fond of the Skoda Yeti, why we like a VW Golf, and it’s why the realisation you’re experiencing a touch more suspension float in an Alpina B5 Touring than you might in a BMW M5 is actually quite a nice thing.