Peugeot 607

“Don't go back out on the moors this evening, young zur. There's fog rolling in from the sea and many a soul has perished on a night such as this.” This was the chilling warning from the wizened old Somerset innkeeper when I enquired about lodgings for the night. “Bessie will prepare a room for you here. Now, you might hear some folk say that this place is haunted, but don't you pay no never mind to that. I'd rather say that the ol' place has character.”

That's it. I'm now well and truly spooked. Ever since I drove down from London in this Peugeot 607 2.2 SE, I've had the feeling that I wasn't alone. For a start, the car was eerily quiet as I made my way down a wet and windy M4 and M5. There was a cold chill about the cabin, but I'd tried to put that down to efficient air-conditioning.

When the rain got heavier, the wipers altered their speed. By themselves. And if I drove down a road where dense trees on either side formed a dark tunnel, the lights came on. By themselves. And then stayed on once night had fallen. What intelligence was at work here? Was someone from beyond the veil trying to send me a message?

Or are automatic rain-sensitive wipers and automatic photo-sensitive lights standard equipment on the 607? I sincerely hoped the latter, as I made my way along the tiny Exmoor roads.

I am forced to confess to no small degree of disappointment with the 607's ride quality, which allows you to feel every imperfection, no matter how trivial. And there is far too much body roll in the corners. For a company whose chassis expertise is recognised and respected throughout the world, this is somewhat galling.

The 2.2-litre, four-cylinder petrol engine is excellent, though. Strong and punchy enough not to be overwhelmed by a car of this size. And refined too. Counter-rotating balancer shafts smooth out any coarseness. The manual gearchange works well, as do the brakes, though I would prefer more feel. It's the same story with the steering - more feel needed, and some shock absorption too, as so many bumps ricochet up to your wrists.

Finally, I stop at the inn, get out and press the button on the key fob that locks the car. That's OK, I understand about central locking, but what's this? The door mirrors fold in of their own accord and swing out unbidden when the car is unlocked again. A nice idea, if spooky.

Bessie the barmaid  sees me to a small room at the back of the inn that looks less spacious and comfortable than my mode of transport. I watch the swish of her tousled hair and the movement of her slender arms as she turns down the sheets and plumps up the pillow. Another time, another place... "Hope you don't mind me saying, zur," says Bessie, "but I'm a bit psychic, y'see". I'm about to think 'here goes' but stop myself immediately - just in case she is psychic enough to read my mind. "I can sense that you've brought someone, or some thing, with you," she continues.

"You must be mistaken," I reply, "for I drove down here completely alone and all I have is my overnight bag." But I couldn't help thinking about that 607...