The endless struggle
It’s a war as old as war itself: BMW versus Mercedes versus Audi. Oh, and an Alfa that thinks it’s a BMW
You won’t get confused, like you might with a new 911, because there’s no doubting this new 3-series is all-new. It looks, and is, a much bigger car.
Now based on BMW’s CLAR architecture as per 5- and 7-series, it’s 85mm longer (at 4709mm) and 16mm wider (1827mm). When I climb behind the driver’s seat, set for my 6ft 1in, my knees don’t rub the seatback like they do in everything else here bar the Lexus. Even the Peugeot – longer at 4750mm – has a shorter wheelbase and a little less rear space. The Alfa, Mercedes and Audi are all tighter in the back.
But because there’s now more aluminium in among the steel, the new 3-series is up to 55kg lighter than before. There are wider tracks, the new iDrive system, more ecient engines, generous equipment…
Our test car is in 320d trim with xDrive all-wheel drive. xDrive also brings the eight-speed automatic as standard, and a £3190 premium over rear-drive. All tallied, that’s £39,495 in range-topping, top-selling M Sport trim, £47,855 optioned up.
Other than incongruously cheap-looking Sensatec trim (actually far from cheap at £500), this is an impressive cabin crafted around driving. The
lean, taut architecture looks like a geometry teacher snuck into the BMW design department, and I love the reference to old-school BMW in the tilt of the centre console towards the driver, and that the climate-control functions are easily found on buttons set far up the dash.
But the stand-out is the infotainment – a 10.3-inch display that can be controlled with the iDrive rotary controller, but also via the touchscreen, steering-wheel controls, gesture control and voice control.
The low-set leather driver’s seat is perfection, with meaty bolstering around your middle, and although there’s very little give in the squab, backrest and headrest, they’re long-distance comfortable.
There’s no doubting you’re in a four-cylinder turbodiesel at idle, but the clatter quickly evaporates once you’re running. Versus the old 3, mpg and CO2 improve at 49.6-52.3mpg and 118g/km, but performance is unchanged at 187bhp and 295lb ft. Throttle response is good, with generous muscle from middling speeds after fractional turbo lag, and the eight-speed auto flicks quickly between ratios. Of course the performance of a 320d won’t make you whoop, but there’s plenty for normal driving.
On 19-inch alloys with adaptive M Sport suspension, there’s some road noise, and the ride is definitely firm, more in the way it fusses over secondary bumps than in larger movements being abruptly curtailed. But combined with our car’s uprated four-piston brakes, which form part of the £2200 M Sport Plus pack, Michelin Pilot Sports and xDrive transmission, the payback is a chassis that’s a joy to drive. It pulls up quickly, has front grip so heroic that only a little chirrup says you’re at the limit, and reassures with precise and chunkily weighted steering, body movements always kept in check. It also feels so rear-biased it’s easy to forget all-wheel drive is working in the background. Even the steering seems mostly to avoid the stickiness that comes with front wheels having to both turn and drive. It’s definitely got point-to-point pace to upset more powerful machinery. But with xDrive and 320d power, this 3-series doesn’t feel as alive as the new 330i I drove recently. It’s very good, but if I was driving one cross-country to Wales it would be because I was heading there for a business meeting, not driving for the heck of it.
But if I owned the Alfa I’d be tempted to up sticks and move to a Welsh
B-road. Alfa does diesel Giulias if you’re after precise powertrain and financial parity with a 320d, but the bad press currently depressing diesel sales might prompt you to consider the petrol-powered Veloce. At £38,260 it’s comparable to 320d pricing, but swaps the derv for a 2.0-litre blown petrol four like you’d find in a hot hatch. You get 295lb ft like the diesels, but a much stronger 276bhp, plus standard eight-speed auto and rear-wheel drive. There’s even a claim of 46.3mpg with your 5.7-second 0-62mph.
It’s a cut-price alternative to the 500bhp Alfa Quadrifoglio we rate so highly, and you can spec Veloce Ti trim and other visual treats to further the illusion. Nice, but unnecessary, as our car proves with its wolf-whistle body and still attractive 18s. If you can stretch to it, the £1950 Performance Pack is nigh-on essential. Adaptive dampers, limited-slip diff, paddles… it all contributes to our Giulia being so phenomenally good to drive.
Alfa gets it right from the off with gorgeous ribbed leather seats positioned down on the deck, bolsters hugging you like a Vespa pillion, and Ferrari references impossible to overlook: starter button on the wheel, a dash that drops low to wrap around circular air vents, and our car’s (optional) blade-like shift paddles fixed to the column, not the steering wheel.
After the 3’s locked-down suspension, the Alfa’s tuning philosophy is very different, with generous compliance and travel. The steering, too, has an almost shocking speed and lightness but also accuracy; it’s quite different from the BMW. It’s that echo of Ferrari again. At first I mistake the suspension travel for sloppiness and think the steering feels almost too rapid and pointy for the leisurely body movements, but within a few miles the Alfa feels deliciously light, nimble and unfazed by rough surfaces.
Its limits are high, but the Giulia trades the kind of brute-force feel of the 3-series for a more delicate nuance, so you’re reading and working with the surface more, feeling the body move, the tyres smearing a little over the surface and the rear arcing slightly under power. It’s driving as surfing, and when it all gels and you key into that rhythm it’s sublime. More’s the pity that the traction control cannot be disengaged, because there’s enough power to exploit that delicious balance. The four-cylinder turbo runs into its soft cut-out at surprisingly low revs, but it punches hard in the low- and mid-range, shifts gears in a finger-click and – considering the hardware – does a decent job of aural encouragement. Always quick, there are moments when the Veloce feels astonishingly rapid, particularly when firing from first to third coincides with corners you can almost take flat.
It’s an Alfa, so we’d be suspicious if there wasn’t ‘character’ here, and there is, particularly the calibration of Dynamic mode – tighter body control and weightier steering can be welcome on a mission, but an unnecessary pulse accompanies gearshifts, and backing off quickly at higher revs elicits a rude shunt. The brake pedal is also strangely long, although the four-piston set-up is excellent. Occasionally it just feels like the last 10 per cent of calibration magic is lacking.
There are other compromises, too: I struggled to actually sit behind myself, interior quality is patchy, the infotainment only average, there’s a whistle from the wing mirrors, hazard warning lights flash embarrassingly under hard braking and there are rogue ‘you’re-about-to-crash’ beeps in town. Character. But if dynamics are your priority, the Alfa Giulia Veloce is the ultimate driving machine in this test.
Our Mercedes is a more direct 320d rival. Now five years old, the C-Class was recently updated with more e£cient engines and capacitive switches on the steering wheel. Ours arrives dressed as a C220d AMG Line, which means AMG bumpers and skirts, and a 1950cc turbodiesel that promises 191bhp with 61.4mpg. A base £39,160 is tickled to £45,515, mostly thanks to Premium and Driving Assistance packs.
The C-Class looks a bit meek on 18-inch alloys, and less flashy inside with its sports seats upholstered in a mix of artico (convincing fake leather) bolsters and suede-like dinamica inserts, but they’re set suitably low and hold you well. There’s good room in the back too, but it’s strange that the rear bench is so much firmer than the front seats. It’s like being in church.
Other de-merits include a bulky, less focused look to the dash than the lean 3-series, and a far less neatly integrated infotainment screen. But ⊲
After the 3’s locked-down suspension, the Alfa’s tuning philosophy is very di erent
Getting in the Audi is like twisting a camera’s focus ring to make everything pin-sharp
there’s a smart metal finish to the control interfaces, and the infotainment is extremely good, though our car’s 12.3-inch instrument cluster and Comand Online are bundled with the £2795 Premium pack.
The C-Class gets 15mm-lower sports suspension, so even on modest 18-inch Bridgestone Potenzas it rides like it’s got the hiccups, with vertical movements prematurely stifled. This ‘sportiness’ doesn’t lead to any great payback on a twisty road. At least you can delete the stiffer chassis. Performance is perfectly adequate, if a little unwilling – I wouldn’t have guessed at 6.9sec to 62mph and 149mph – and shifts are delivered with a lazy fuzz.
Everything the C220d does – bar its ride quality – it does to an acceptable level. But when you’re talking a £40k premium saloon up against this competition, it just can’t cut it.
The Audi is better. It’s a 40 TDI S-line S-tronic, which Google Translate says is a 2.0 TDI in the sportiest trim with a dual-clutch gearbox. It costs a reasonable-in-this-company £36,445, topped to £42,105 mainly with the £1395 Technology pack, electric memory and nappa leather for the S-line sports seats, topping off an interior that’s minimal but not austere. Tight shutlines, richly textured leather, alcantara and brushed metal, crisp graphics – it’s like twisting a camera’s focus ring to make everything pinsharp. It scores highly for usability too, with mostly intuitive infotainment and comfortable seats, plus ample space for rear-seat passengers and a useful 480-litre boot.
With only its front wheels driven, the A4 is the second lightest car here at 1480kg (behind the 1429kg Alfa), and fields an on-point 187bhp/295lb ft, 50-ish mpg and 120g/km. It pulls strongly from 1800rpm, and always feels flexible, partly thanks to a seven-speed dual-clutch auto with quick shifts and ratios that keep up your momentum.
The A4 also drives very well. Corners are strung together with more finesse than the Mercedes, thanks to crisp turn-in, responsive handling and steering that has a natural feel and accuracy, with a more leisurely ratio than rivals. Shame, then, that road noise from its 19-inch Contis and a choppy ride on fixed dampers knock its score; Audi offers adaptive dampers for £600, or no-cost Comfort suspension on S-lines.
With a cushier ride, the Audi’s interior build, infotainment and spacious rear quarters might displace the Alfa for those who put such things high on the list (and many will), but the 320d is still the most complete car of these traditional premium saloons. Over the page, we’ll see how the BMW fares against a new generation of rivals. ⊲