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BMW 128TI & VW GOLF GTI CLUBSPORT

BMW has launched an audacious challenge to the Golf GTI with its first front-drive hot hatch, the 128ti. Meanwhile VW has countered with the Golf GTI Clubsport. We assess them both

- by STUART GALLAGHER & ADAM TOWLER PHOTOGRAPH­Y by ASTON PARROTT

BMW has joined the front-wheel-drive hot hatch class with its new 128ti, but VW is ready for it, with the new Golf GTI Clubsport. We put both to the test

‘AT SPEED THE CHASSIS SETTLES AND BEGINS TO FLOW’

YOU HAVE TO HAND IT TO BMW, it’s never been afraid to rip up its own rulebook, stare controvers­y hard in the face and ask: ‘So what? What are you going to do about it?’ Electric and hybrid cars that resembled nothing else in the line-up a decade before any of its competitor­s had anything remotely interestin­g to offer with a plug; SUVS larger than the second homes their owners drive them to at the weekend; a willingnes­s to apply the sacred M name to anything that glides down its production line and to hell with the backlash (profit is profit); and a readiness to flip its design language on its head, seemingly on a whim. There are certainly some brave souls in Munich.

How brave? They’ve just built a front-wheel-drive hot hatch aimed directly at the Golf GTI, and not simply by taking the innards of the hottest Mini and securing them to a 1-series, either. The 128ti is the result of BMW’S engineers, led by Jos van As, VP for driving dynamics, pondering what a two-wheel-drive 135i xdrive would be like and whether it would make the dumpy hatch rather more exciting to drive. So they removed everything connected with driving the rear wheels and turned all the focus to the front end.

Out went the underbody bracing of the xdrive; spring rates were stiffened by eight per cent and toe-in at all four corners revised. The steering rate has been slowed compared to that of the 135i and the 128ti’s Torsen mechanical limited-slip diff has a seven per cent lower locking ratio, at 31 per cent, under accelerati­on.

Its 18-inch wheels are fitted with Michelin’s Pilot Sport 5 tyre rather than the ancient Bridgeston­e Potenza you’ll find on many of BMW’S products today, including the 135i. The M Sport brakes are the same size as those fitted to the more powerful four-wheeldrive car (360mm discs on the front axle with four-pot calipers, 300mm rotors on the rear with a single-piston caliper), but where the range-topper is available with adaptive dampers the 128ti has fixed-rate units, which have a higher compressio­n rate than the sportiest setting available on the 135i. Like the braking systems, the chassis upgrades come from the M Sport family, despite the 128ti categorica­lly not being an M Sport model.

At this point alarm bells might be ringing with the mention of higher spring and compressio­n rates, especially so if you’ve driven the Mini GP3 and your spine is still recovering. But there’s no need to worry because the 128ti’s chassis is a little marvel. Yes, there’s a harshness at very low speeds, say 30-40mph, where any surface imperfecti­ons are felt through the cabin with a harder thud than you were perhaps expecting, and it’s magnified during the first few miles of your journey if the ambient temperatur­e is in single figures. Reach above these speeds and the chassis settles and begins to flow and breathe much more calmly with the surface, with a pliancy that’s very, er, Golf GTI in how it works with the road rather than trying to beat it up.

And then you start to push harder and a high level of precision to the 128ti’s front end comes to the fore. It’s the precision that’s missing in the 135i and it’s what the Golf GTI lacks when you really could do with more clarity. It’s a busier front end than expected as a consequenc­e, the steering wheel writhing away in your hands more than anticipate­d, but as a result you do have a clearer picture of what’s going on at each corner and before

‘IT OFFERS FAR MORE THRILLS THAN ITS LOOKS SUGGEST’

long you’re hustling it with more enthusiasm and determinat­ion than you would the aforementi­oned hatches and even Mini’s own Cooper S model.

The Torsen diff doesn’t hook up as quickly as you expect and it isn’t as aggressive as some, but it does allow the front Michelins to pull through the corner cleanly and the driver to open the throttle wider much earlier. The 128ti enjoys being thrown at a corner too, and, as with all the best front-drivers, the tail goes light when your entry speed is on the high side. So you can either keep your foot in and let the diff hook up and pull you through, or lift out of the throttle and let the rear carve a wider arc before getting back on the power when you feel you’ve wound on enough opposite lock. Cross-country on the sort of roads hot hatches excel on, it’s an engaging car that offers far more thrills than its looks suggest.

Powering those thrills is a detuned version of the 135i xdrive’s 2-litre turbocharg­ed four, with power dropped by 45bhp to 261bhp and torque 37lb ft lower at 295lb ft. Despite carrying a hefty 1445kg (80kg less than the 135i), the playfulnes­s of the 128ti’s chassis makes up for the seconds lost against the clock compared with its four-wheel-drive big brother. Its enthusiasm for any given corner far outweighs any disadvanta­ge it had down the straight getting there. It also does a respectabl­e job of masking its mass, which is inexplicab­ly high for a front-wheel-drive car.

It’s not an especially strong engine in terms of soundtrack: it can come across as strained at the top end and there’s a harshness over the last 1000rpm that has you pulling for another gear earlier than anticipate­d. And, like all turbocharg­ed engines of its ilk, it feels one-dimensiona­l in terms of character, but it will deliver what’s required at the moment when you require it.

It’s not only the engine that the 128ti shares with the more powerful 135i; the eight-speed ZF auto is also carried over and is the only transmissi­on offered. Shift speeds are quicker for the 128ti and have been recalibrat­ed for the front-drive car, hitting home harder and with more conviction. The paddles are okay rather than great; they’re rather too small and their action suffers from feeling like a switch rather than a control function for an integral piece of the drivetrain, but they are better than most in similarly priced cars.

Low and mid-range ratios in the ZF unit suit the nature of the 128’s motor: not too short so that you’re constantly throwing gears at it, nor Porsche-like in length so that you can listen to a five-day Test match as you wait for the revs to build before the next gear is needed. And yes, a six-speed manual would be preferable: it would suit the nature of this type of car so much better and add another welcome layer of interactio­n. But it’s a familiar story, BMW predicting that less than a third of customers (and that’s being optimistic) would opt for a manual if one was offered. Sigh.

While we’re talking of downsides, it’s not the most exciting of hot hatches to look at, either. The token red highlights on the front intakes and those hidden within the rear bumper do little to raise the excitement levels. Then again a Golf GTI is more introvert than extrovert to look at. But the 1-series lends itself to being punchier in the visual department and you can’t but think this is an opportunit­y missed. It’s not as if BMW isn’t prepared to push its design, after all. Some grippier seats wouldn’t go amiss, either.

Despite these reservatio­ns, the curiosity of BMW’S engineers to find out what a front-wheel-drive 1-series hot hatch would be like has resulted in a car that is both more exciting and more rewarding to drive than the latest Golf GTI. It doesn’t have the effervesce­nce and infectious energy of Hyundai’s i30 N and the latest – and last – RS Mégane (see p112), but it does raise a broad smile when you find yourself on a good road. It might not be afraid to rip up its own rulebook, but in developing the 128ti, BMW appears to have spent a long time reading up on how to build a Gti-beater.

AND RELAX. AFTER THE RATHER unsettling propositio­n that is the front-wheel-drive, automatic BMW hot hatch on the preceding pages – who’d have once thought that possible? – here’s something much more within our respective comfort zones. A new Golf GTI. A go-faster one at that. And breathe… If the concept, and indeed the ingredient­s, are all very familiar, then that needn’t detract from what should hopefully be an important new arrival in the hot hatch market. In recent years, Karsten Schebsdat’s engineerin­g team have brought us a superb series of VW hot hatches, peaking with future classics such as the Mk7 Clubsport S. This new Mk8 Clubsport is unusual in that it’s available right from the start of this generation’s GTI production run, rather than late in the day, and there’s no ambiguity about the fact that it’s aimed squarely at those with an interest in driving. Expectatio­ns, then, are high.

That said, the fact it’s available only in a five-door body (as with all Mk8 Golfs), and this time only with the twin-clutch DSG gearbox, is not necessaril­y the promising start a lot of enthusiast­s will have hoped for. However, there are plenty of changes over the regular Mk8 GTI – a car, you will recall, that we’re rather fond of (albeit especially when it’s fitted with a manual ’box).

For the Clubsport, the EA888 Evo4 engine runs a completely new turbocharg­er made by Continenta­l, not Garrett, along with a larger intercoole­r, and is mapped to give its best on 98 RON fuel, all of which means its figures are now 296bhp and 295lb ft, as opposed to the 242bhp and 273lb ft of the standard GTI. A glance at the graphs shows that the real gains are above 5000rpm, which means the Clubsport should feel far more energetic on the road, just at the point where the GTI starts to feel rather asthmatic and encourages an early upshift.

You’ll be able to spot a Clubsport by its unique design of front bumper featuring a larger cooling opening and the small, painted ‘flics’, along with its flared sills and larger rear wing: lift is reduced front and rear over the standard GTI, although for a slight penalty in drag. Yet it’s under the skin that the most intriguing changes have been made. As standard, the Clubsport sits 15mm lower than a GTI, with an increase in negative camber on the front axle and new control arm mounts and different bearings on the rear.

‘Linearity and predictabi­lity of reactions’ is the phrase coined by Schebsdat, and further changes include a new calibratio­n for the power steering set-up ( just 2.1 turns lock-to-lock) and, unlike in the GTI, the electronic­ally controlled limited-slip differenti­al (VAQ in VW speak) is under the control of the Vehicle Dynamics Manager (VDM) and operated via the car’s giant central screen. There are also bigger front brake discs (357mm) and, if the car has the option fitted, a unique calibratio­n for the DCC adaptive dampers that includes a specific Nürburgrin­g setting.

So I think it’s fair to say that the Clubsport is a lot more than just a GTI with a remap, which, you may have been thinking, was a fair assumption. And yet… on initial acquaintan­ce it’s hard to shake off that suspicion. The Clubsport, at least this particular example, is not exactly a firecracke­r, regardless of whether it has been put in the Sport driving mode: the visual changes aren’t that easy to spot, the grey paint of its exterior matches the grey sky perfectly and looks like it’s come from Royal Navy surplus,

‘THE GOLF STRUGGLES TO DEPLOY ITS TORQUE IN THE LOWER GEARS’

and on standard 18in alloys it looks under-wheeled. Those wheels are shod with 225/40 R18 Bridgeston­e Potenzas (a Goodyear Eagle F1 is the other factory fitment; a Hankook makes a trio on the 19in wheel) and in cold, slippery conditions, even without any standing water on the road, they offer very limited traction and outright grip.

Running a Toyota GR Yaris on the Fast Fleet has reminded us what useable, all-weather turbocharg­ed performanc­e in a hatchback feels like and, by comparison, the Clubsport shows the limitation­s of the large, high-power, front-wheeldrive hot hatch, really struggling to deploy the majority of its torque in the lower gears, and slipping and tugging this way and that despite the best interventi­ons of the differenti­al. It also feels like it’s constantly at the outer reaches of its grip envelope, particular­ly in a faster corner, where once learnt, an early turn-in then allows a predictabl­e skate through the apex in a state of mild understeer. There’s a certain sadistic fun to that, but all the while there’s a nagging feeling that the Clubsport is being significan­tly hamstrung.

However, there’s no doubting the effectiven­ess of the powertrain, which is smooth, punchy and flexible, albeit not the most character-laden, though DSG does, as ever, remove you slightly from the business of driving. The hopelessly tiny paddles don’t help, with no sign of the bigger ones seen in press shots of the new Golf R being made available on the Clubsport. That really needs to be addressed PDQ.

Inside, there are unique fabrics for the fine sports seats, while you’ll either love or hate the Mk8’s haptic screens. This early press car doesn’t have DCC fitted, so the swipe configurab­ility of the car’s damping, so effective in the GTI we tested (Driven, evo 279) is absent. As it is, the ride on the passive suspension is a little busy at low speed but nothing that doesn’t feel in keeping with a proper hot hatch.

‘Underwhelm­ing’ sums up the initial impression­s of the Clubsport. There’s no doubting its speed, of course, because once the car is hooked up the four-pot turbo absolutely rips through its rev-range, but for £37,215 and all those detail changes, I’d been hoping for a car that really takes the fight to the Honda Civic Type R, and initially this seems by some margin out of range. There may be Clubsport-specific brake discs, for example, but the pedal offers nothing like the feel and grainy resistance found in the Honda.

And yet, the more I drive the Clubsport, the more I come to appreciate the completene­ss of its dynamics. There’s a clean, unfussed, super-effective way that it goes about its business that suggests there’s a car of real ability here. It’s not prone to exaggerate­d oversteer on corner entry like a Mégane, or even a Civic, but you can definitely sense the rear axle chipping in to assist the turn, and you can provoke it to a certain, albeit limited, degree. The steering is surprising­ly light, but it’s a definite improvemen­t on the regular GTI’S, feeling much more direct and providing real accuracy. Once you’ve accepted the grip levels aren’t high, you can be really accurate with where you place the car on the road, revelling in the economy of effort of both car and driver.

Would the larger contact patch of the optional 19in wheel (with 235/35 R19 tyres) make a difference? Interestin­gly, the Clubsport is said to be 13sec quicker around the Ring than the GTI, but when you look into the small print those times were set on Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2 rubber! Is that what it takes to make the car truly come alive? No word yet from VW as to whether it’ll become an option in the UK.

In short, I wonder whether the Clubsport has a lot more to give. The acid test will be when we try one in warmer weather, running on 19s, with the Clubsport-specific DCC dampers. It was the damping that was one of the really impressive aspects to the standard GTI, so will these options unlock the potential of the Clubsport and allow it to challenge the Type Rs, i30 Ns and Méganes of this world for genuine driver appeal? Frankly, I can’t wait to find out.

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 ??  ?? Left and below: playful chassis allows you to unsettle the rear on the way in to a corner before getting back on the power. No manual gearbox option: 128ti is auto-only. Red accents struggle to inject much visual excitement
Left and below: playful chassis allows you to unsettle the rear on the way in to a corner before getting back on the power. No manual gearbox option: 128ti is auto-only. Red accents struggle to inject much visual excitement
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 ??  ?? Below and left: new Clubsport looks a little underwhelm­ing in battleship grey with standard 18in wheels, and that’s how it feels initially, too, but it’s a car of hidden depths
Below and left: new Clubsport looks a little underwhelm­ing in battleship grey with standard 18in wheels, and that’s how it feels initially, too, but it’s a car of hidden depths

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