Focus ST V Golf GTI
Having left Gloucestershire in the dark, my bleary-eyed cross-country blat concludes at the gates of the Millbrook Test Centre. Roger Green, sat in a Red Golf GTI, is a welcome site. We're soon joined by John Barker and Henry Catchpole plus a very orange Focus ST. Signing-in at Millbrook is like a shot of Red Bull to the temples, the anticipation of what's to follow knocking out any morning grogginess. As our 3-car convoy (Barker's Monaro long termer is also present) taxis towards the Mile Straight, I reckon today is shaping up rather well.
Wired up to the V-box, the ST is first out onto the straight. The in-gear speeds are recorded from a rolling start, highlighting the 5-cylinder unit's love of revs, plus its tractability in the higher ratios, pulling cleanly from just 20mph in either fifth or sixth without protest. From the passenger seat, it's blindingly obvious that the 236lb ft of torque (delivered from just 1600 rpm) makes the ST as forgiving as it is potent. Top speed is beaten by the road, as maximum velocity is trumped by the fast-approaching curved Armco at the end of the straight. Barker chooses now to point out the newer sections of barrier where certain previous testers have left braking expensively (and embarrassingly) too late. It's a thought I try to banish from my mind as we repeatedly approach said sections at 120mph plus. Absolute maximum speed is where Millbrook's banked High Speed Circuit comes in... we're heading there next...
After a "settling in" lap of the Bowl, Barker explains how the facility has a "hands-off" speed of 100mph; and proves it! Then he winds up the pace, slower traffic moving over as we scythe past like a Tangoed greyhound. There's a bus dawdling round the inside of the circuit; this is surreal. The ST eventually finds a maximum cruise hovering around 143mph; on the flat this would translate (as near as dammit) into Ford's quoted 150mph max. Flat out the ST feels relaxed and planted, admittedly today's ideal weather conditions help, but it bodes well for the Ford's real-world motorway ability. We return to the Mile Straight to record each car's 0-60 dash, heat audibly pinging from beneath grimy panels.
Respective sprint times bagged, both cars are given a breather. Seeing the two together confirms how diverse a view the two marques take regarding hot hatch aesthetics, and talk quickly turns to exterior styling. Naturally the Golf is a masterclass in Germanic reserve. "Tornado" red suits it perfectly, just as it has all previous generation GTIs (perhaps with the exception of the Mk 4, that looked like it was trying not to burst). There's an effortless cohesion, no superfluous bling, just the tried and tested fast hatch cues we expect; snorty twin pipes, subtle rear roof spoiler, fuss-free 17" wheels, honeycomb grill. Job done. The ST adopts a more unashamedly "shell-suit" approach. It's certainly visually engaging; the standard 18" rims are a triumph with more than a whiff of Lambo' about them, especially when framed by "Electric-Orange" paintwork. Some of the detailing is less successful however; the front wing-mounted ST badges look like they were stolen from a Wurlitzer jukebox, while the raised mouldings on the rear of the back arches appear contrived. I can't help thinking it's trying too hard, but will no doubt curry favour from those who want their fast Ford's intent tattooed on its forehead. |
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Interval over, and I stay with the Focus, but there's a shift change for the pilots. As Barker straps himself into the Golf and goes to work on the straight, Green offers me a spin around the Alpine Hill Route. He doesn't have to ask twice. The greasy road inclines, declines, bucks and weaves through a wooded backdrop straight from the French Alps. There are multiple tortuous downhill bends, each trying to out "odd-camber" the other. A blind jump gives way to a sudden drop-off culminating in a tricky corner; according to Green the technique is "land, brake and turn"; were I sat where he is, I'd add "panic" to his list for good measure.
As we break for lunch, I look forward to some time in the Golf; we're heading over to the Bedford Autodrome for some timed laps shortly, allowing me some road miles behind the wheel of both cars. In the meantime, I bully my internal organs back into place with some cantine-carbs.
The sobering reality of the public road dawns with a jolt after the Millbrook theme park experience. It's these types of A and B roads that these hatches were built to rule. Will it end in a 1-0 win to Germany, or will the Ford snatch victory? If there's no clear winner, it'll go to penalties at the 'Drome.
Immediately apparent is VW's determination to give this GTI decent steering, it's not the last word in feedback, but at last it's ditched the dull, rubberiness that's blighted so many "sporty" VAG offerings of the last decade. The wheel itself is a joy to hold; modest diameter, flat-bottomed, fabulous. This quality transcends throughout the cabin, some of the plastics just pipping those found in the ST. That said, the gaping void between Ford and VW build quality is buried deep in the past. The driving position is hard to fault, as is the quick, precise 'box. Joining the steering in the "most improved category" is the 2 litre engine. It's everything the old 1.8T should have been; primarily it's found a voice. Above 4000 revs it sings a welcome rorty note, whereas the old 1.8 unit sounded like it was reading the phonebook through a hanky. It's happy to rev right through its range, or lug lag-free from very few revs. A ride-height drop of 15mm over lesser Golfs gives tidy handling, there's a slight roll on turn-in, but the car remains committed to your chosen line through the corner. The brakes, (despite their morning's workload) feel progressive and strong. So the GTI does its bloodline proud, handing the baton to the ST.
Inside, the ST feels bigger than the Golf. The standard Recaros are excellent, good to see them carried through to the back too. That big 2.5 litre 5-pot is a gem. It's a cliché, but this unit delivers real punch, in any gear, from any revs. Throttle response is keener than the Golf, though both cars feel similarly accelerative in the first 3 gears, after which the ST's extra torque edges it. Despite the extra cylinder, the Focus rarely feels nose-heavy. If anything, turn-in is sharper than its rival. The steering is lighter, but relays more detail. But despite the "ST" logo, the wheel can'’t compete with the Golf's designer item. The cabin mirrors some of the exterior’s flair. Three extra dials (reading boost, oil pressure and temperature) atop the dash thump home this car's mission. In a straight line, the Golf is marginally more polished, resisting camber changes better than the Ford, but show either car a string of bends, and it'll tack through them with disdain. Looks like a shoot-out at the track is on. |
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The Autodrome is a real eye-opener; seeing the West Circuit "in the tarmac" as opposed to on the page unleashes a surge of adrenalin. The track is rushing under the VW's Bridgestones. Near the redline, the Golf's engine takes on a classic 4-pot buzz, tyres shrieking their protest on deaf ears. Road-car underpinnings are exposed in a slightly soft set-up as we dive for apexes; getting the car sideways for Kenny P's lens demands turning-in on the brakes in order to loosen the instinctively planted rear. Barker then puts in a neat, quick lap for the timing gear's benefit. Then it's straight into the Focus for more of the same. Or is it? The ST's steering seems better suited to track-work, and the rear is more willing to slide without the heavy coaxing of the middle pedal. The bigger engine feels deep-chested, whether gunning down the short straights, or dragging the car out of a drift. I'd bet on it taking the honours for track-day fun; the more playful nature raising more smiles than the Golf's more composed, poised temperament. Despite their on-track differences, the Golf posts a lap-time just 0.15 seconds quicker than the Ford.
Back in the pit area, Kenny P turns the camera in my direction. Smiling on cue in sub-freezing temperatures does not come naturally, and I manage the sort of gritted-teeth-grimace that most people would cross the road to avoid. Sorry Kenny. Light fading, photography over, "fancy a lap in the Monaro?" asks Barker. Yes I would. With the V8 drumming on the inside of the nostrilled bonnet, we rumble out onto the circuit. Jimmy Saville must have finally got my letter, 'cause this is brilliant. The big Vauxhall monsters the straights, through the tighter corners the nose pivots around the apex, as the rear spends a week at "Drift-Camp". Coming off a tight second-gear corner, I glance in the wing mirror to see smoke pouring from the inside-rear Dunlop, and hang in the air like dry-ice. It's laugh-out-loud action as it thumps round the track, inventing new angles as it goes along... All too soon we're back in the pits, Aussie bruiser back on its lead.
Heading home, it's decision time. The Golf's qualities run deep. It exudes a chunky, classless appeal; reminding me of my first drive in a Mk2. For the first time in a decade it lives up to that GTI badge. But the ST also has an awful lot going for it. The engine is all things to all men, it's superbly comfortable, fast, agile and amazing value. And drips with just a bit more character. Where the Golf has polish, the Focus has soul, making it my choice.
© Paul Sanders 2006
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