Having a ball in the curves
The Jag estate can turn a commute into a pleasure, not a chore. By
MY COMMUTE IS like watching Blade Runner 2049: engrossing but with only sporadic bursts of action. (Assuming you overlook the visual differences between a futuristic Los Angeles and the Bedfordshire A1.) Its highlight is that unlikely chicane on the Black Cat roundabout’s northbound approach, a window into the set-up of every car. First comes a sweeping left-hander where the body rolls gently outward as the tyres grip nonchalantly, telegraphing that this chassis could swoop through here far faster than the 60 limit permits. Then a nip of the brakes to trim the speed, a turn of the lovely linear steering, and the nose locks into the tighter right turn: not a trace of understeer, even if you’re quickly back on the power because the way ahead is clear.
Dynamically, the big Jag is in great shape but it’s not perfect. The Ingenium diesel, though smoother and with less turbo whistle than our 2015 XE suffered, makes a bothersome groan and transmits vibrations under measured throttle load, until a 20-minute warm-up passes. I know fourpot diesels can’t sound like NASCARs, but this one’s frequency is shrill on the ears.
There’s a two-tone quality to the ride too. The suspension’s primary gait is loping and lovely. But the onset of high-frequency undulations can cause choppy body movements. It’s not that the XF can’t do cruising: tyre and wind noise are pretty well suppressed. But it’s at its best in action hero mode.