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Power trip: 1,000+ miles in the £2.4m Lotus Evija

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Power trip: 1,000+ miles in the £2.4m Lotus Evija | Top Gear

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In the 1970s, Lotus test drivers used to 'pop' from the factory to the south of France for the weekend testing the latest car. We follow in their footsteps...

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Power trip: 1,000+ miles in the £2.4m Lotus Evija

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
In the 1970s, Lotus test drivers used to 'pop' from the factory to the south of France for the weekend testing the latest car. We follow in their footsteps...

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
In the 1970s, Lotus test drivers used to 'pop' from the factory to the south of France for the weekend testing the latest car. We follow in their footsteps...

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Power trip: 1,000+ miles in the £2.4m Lotus Evija

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Power trip: 1,000+ miles in the £2.4m Lotus Evija

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Power trip: 1,000+ miles in the £2.4m Lotus Evija

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
In the 1970s, Lotus test drivers used to 'pop' from the factory to the south of France for the weekend testing the latest car. We follow in their footsteps...

# data.attributes.body.value
Is everything that’s ever been filmed now available on YouTube? Apparently so. Including a very much of its time behind the scenes documentary charting the development of the 1970s Lotus Elite and Eclat. Everything is browny beige and you can practically smell the cigarettes and political incorrectness. Chief engineer Tony Rudd is a laconic presence throughout, and resembles a potential third Ronnie (ask your parents). On a specific packaging issue, he notes that “one solution was to breed a special race of passengers, but we rejected that as taking too long”. Woke was a way off.

Rudd and fellow Lotus alumnus Mike Kimberley often thought nothing of taking a prototype on a long haul roadtrip. They’d leave the Hethel HQ, near Norwich, on Friday and head to the French Riviera or Rome, returning to their desks no later than Monday lunchtime. A real world sign-off, and the sort of automotive buccaneering that worked back when the gendarmerie had a more laissez faire attitude.

Which got us thinking. Why not channel some of that spirit for Top Gear’s exclusive first road drive in the Lotus Evija? We’ve certainly waited long enough for the opportunity. The Evija broke cover in July 2019, so it rivals those other moonshot cars, the Aston Martin Valkyrie and Mercedes-AMG One, in terms of gestational challenge and hubris. It’s actually been in production for a while now, built to exacting standards in the same building in which the fabled Lotus Carlton came to life a generation ago.

Photography: Olgun Kordal

Yes, it’s our EV Hypercar of the Year and we admire the fact the Evija exists at all. But it’s also the only new electric hypercar of the past 12 months, and that surely tells its own story. With a power output of 2,011bhp (or 1.5 megawatts if you prefer), the Evija can claim to be the most powerful production car in history (well, until we get a go in the Koenigsegg Gemera, Rimac Nevera R or Hennessey F5 Venom Evolution) and it looks a million dollars. Trouble is, it costs roughly three times that, so the finished car arrives with some baggage. It also arrives with no space for any actual baggage, such are the extremes the design and engineering team have gone to. The perfect car for a 1,000 mile plus roadtrip, then, in true TG style.

And just look at it. Designed by a team led by the indefatigable Russell Carr, it has roughly the impact of a meteor that’s crash landed into Earth. Not bad for something the world’s had six years to get used to. We often invoke a car’s sculptural qualities when dissecting its design, but this one actually calls to mind Henry Moore or Barbara Hepworth. High minded reference points for a machine whose form is uncommonly intelligent, as well as dramatic. Check out the 93kWh battery pack in the assembly facility and then marvel at how Lotus has packaged it, in the middle of the car rather than underneath, including all the power modules. Then look at the tunnels either side of it, expanses of space that help the Evija’s aero efficiency but also cement its status as perhaps the most singular looking road car that is currently available.

Speaking of road, it’s time to hit it. And we do actually have a plan. Our destination is Nice, on the Côte d’Azur, but as well as paying homage to that 1970s Lotus test route, we’ll be dropping by a few places of note on the way – including Reims and the Circuit de Charade (locations of Lotus GP wins for Jim Clark and Jochen Rindt). It’s Wednesday lunchtime by the time we leave, and we’re booked on a plane home on Friday night. This is a distance and deadline to focus the mind.

With this much firepower at your command, it’s best to ease into things. A combustion engine may be conspicuously absent but the Evija still immediately floods your senses. Thanks to its configuration, you sit low like you do in a conventional sports car. It’s relatively easy to get in and out of, and user friendly once ensconced. The design team fought to include what they call ‘Becker points’, prominently rising front wings (named after legendary Lotus test driver Roger Becker). There’s a central spine in the windscreen where the huge wiper parks itself, but you don’t notice that after a while. And the F1-style steering wheel, which could have been a clumsy affectation, is actually effective. (Although not actively better. Turns out you can’t reinvent the wheel.)

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Out onto the A11, we head towards London. There are five drive modes on this thing, and escalating amounts of power and driver connection. Range is likely to become our default for reasons we’ll get into, but it’s also the one in which the car feels most inauthentic. It’s wrong to talk in terms of throttle feel – the right pedal is more accurately in charge of torque demand – but it feels a bit sludgy in Range. City is sharper, Tour better still, but it’s impossible to resist trying Sport on the arrow straight road through Thetford forest. Now we have 1,257lb ft of torque to experiment with, an unholy amount of energy, and enough to send the car warping forward in a way that makes the Millennium Falcon engaging hyperdrive look like Del Boy’s three wheeler. It’s an unusual sensation and an impressive single digit in the face of physics, but also risky assuming you don’t want to end up behind bars. Or get battered round the head by your passenger. In truth, this sort of velocity isn’t a wholly pleasant experience, but the rate of acceleration and the way it sustains it is phenomenal.

The Evija’s battery is supplied by Coventry firm Hyperbat, the cells from American supplier Molicell. The battery pack alone weighs 718kg, about the same as an entire Lotus Elise S1. The Evija doesn’t move like one of those, but nor does it feel like an Elise with a hippo strapped to its roof. It uses an 800V architecture, there are two motors within each electric drive unit on the front and rear axles, and two gearboxes. So all four wheels are driven independently, for an algorithmic dynamic bandwidth to boggle the mind. Marshalling this amount of power is a ferocious challenge. Remember, the parameters are set by the four bits of rubber on the corners of the car (bespoke Pirelli Trofeo Rs). Around 85 per cent of components are from UK suppliers.

Lotus has worked hard to imbue this awesome looking machine with the character, sensation and vibrations we take for granted in a combustion engined supercar. This much is apparent as we stop for our first charge, at Thurrock services in Essex. The Evija’s EDUs – electronic drive units – emit an organic whine, deliberately unfiltered. It’s a noise you don’t notice so much on the track because you’re focused on not crashing. But at motorway speeds it’s a different matter, not least because the noise is naggingly insistent at 75mph. More soundproofing might be the order of the day.

It’s made entirely of carbon fibre, chassis, body panels and all, including the front subframes for total integrity and structural rigidity

And more range. Lotus claims 195 miles (WLTP) on a full charge, which is some way short of the early claims that we heard for the Evija. It’s also some way short of reality, because you’re mindful of not straying too far from Zap-Mapped rapid chargers, and also of not running the battery too low. Depleted cells are unhappy cells. Which means we’re stopping with about 25 miles left, a pretty slender margin of comfort, and a scant two hours and 116 miles after we set off. A pattern may be set here...

At least we find a vacant and functioning 350kW charger at Gridserve’s facility that sits close to the Dartford crossing, and we’re on our way about 15 minutes later. Mind you, the price is seriously spicy: 85p per kWh means that getting the Evija back to its modest full charge costs £54.

The Channel tunnel next, where a busload of Czech schoolkids can’t believe their eyes. It’s a reminder that cars like this have a role to play as entertainment, something the Evija’s brilliant design fully enables. The dihedral doors are pure concept car theatre. You can open them from the outside using the key fob or close them using a button on their under side. If you’re inside, there’s a button for each door on the roof header. Trouble is, they have a mind of their own and can become rather irritating. What would Colin Chapman think? Simplify and add lightness, that was his thing. The key lives in a little pocket in the centre console and its transponder demands that it sits in a specific way. Another mild frustration. A rearview camera and pop out side cameras add a techy dimension and ease the drama of reverse parking. Judging distance is still stressful, though.

Especially given the Evija’s exotic construction. It’s made entirely of carbon fibre, chassis, body panels and all, including the front subframes for total integrity and structural rigidity. The cockpit sits well within its bodywork, a layout that evokes early 1970s endurance racers, a generation that holds every car designer spellbound. There’s a complex race bred inboard suspension, codeveloped by Multimatic. That includes a Formula One-style ‘heave’ damper to absorb the effect of the Evija’s considerable downforce – an unbelievable 1,680kg at the car’s 217mph vmax – while its overall aerodynamic properties are dictated by the air flowing not just over and under it, but also through it, as we’ve seen.

[node:field_inline_galleries-themed-delta:1]

Once we’re in France, the odyssey can really begin. The Evija’s interior echoes the exterior design, in the sense that it’s defined by what’s missing as much as by what’s actually there. A refreshingly simple instrument binnacle sits on top of a carbon fibre exoskeleton, while a slender central spine – known as the ‘ski jump’ – houses a series of hexagons, each one triggering a different function. It’s more concepty thinking made real, and it mostly works, the function graphics coolly backlit. Until it stops working, that is. The AC glow disappears just as the weather heats up outside, and the indicators literally go on the blink.

France is well served by rapid chargers, which is a good thing because we’re going to see a lot of them. Lotus reckons potential owners won’t do the crazy distance we’re attempting, but a real world range of about 150 miles is surely chocolate teapot stuff in terms of utility. We’re not exactly blasting between péages either, although when the self restraint goes out the window the car shrinks distance like few other things out there. Hyper powerful electric cars are like time machines or teleportation devices.

We skirt round Paris and pick up the A77 and then N7 through the Loire valley past Sancerre and Nevers. Charging stops five and six happen somewhere around here, the Evija’s 1.6 miles per kWh energy consumption and suboptimal range distinctly hampering progress. It’s also suffering repeated software glitches – we have a couple of engineers following us and they basically have to do the equivalent of a hard reset on a few occasions. I’m later told it’s because I’m leaving the car in Sport mode when I should be flicking back into City configuration. Surely it should be able to absorb this? There is also a slight pause before the Evija unleashes all its horsepower in Sport, the electric vehicle equivalent of turbo lag perhaps, a gathering of thoughts as a zillion lines of code zoom around the mainframe. The pause is swiftly forgotten once you’re at full tilt, but it should be seamless and instantaneous.

Our second overnight stop is in Millau, on the edge of the Cévennes national park, just the right side of midnight. Phew. There are two reasons for coming here. The first is to travel across (and beneath) the Millau viaduct, the world’s tallest bridge at 343m, an engineering wonder of the world that was designed by the UK’s very own superstar architect Norman Foster and opened in 2004. It spans the glorious Tarn gorge, used 290,000 tonnes of steel and concrete in its construction, and is held up by 1,500 tonnes of steel cable. This remains engineering at its most dazzling even 20 years on. It was constructed to relieve traffic congestion towards the Mediterranean, but ironically we dive off it and head east along the N107 instead.

It’s mesmerising to look at, fast as hell, and handles spectacularly. But the motors are noisy, the range barely adequate

What a road this is – that’s the second reason for coming here – and what a machine the Evija reveals itself to be in arguably its natural habitat. It’s bigger and heavier than anything Chapman and co ever envisaged but crucially still feels like a Lotus. It’s actually close to the McLaren 750S in terms of steering feel and linearity of response. The 750S was the best car I drove in 2024 and is TG’s reigning Speed Week champion, so this is high praise. Interestingly, the Evija’s steering is also electrohydraulic rather than fully electric, and there’s no regen on the braking, the big Lotus relying instead on carbon ceramics supplied by Brembo. It settles into a remarkable rhythm, the hydraulically operated, retractable rear wing and DRS finessing the aero and stabilising everything. Despite its vast complexity, there’s a delicious purity to its responses.

There’s magic here, no question. But charging for the umpteenth time and closing in on our destination, as many questions remain as there are answers. The world, we know, is refusing to fall in love with the vastly horsepowered hyper EV. This is an automotive genre that’s frankly pretty silly, at least until the battery tech serves up twice the energy density in a package that comes in at half the current weight.

Lotus also remains suspiciously coy about how many Evijas have found homes, but at £2.4m it’s unquestionably a tough sell. After 48 long hours at the wheel, the jury is still out. It’s mesmerising to look at, fast as hell, and handles spectacularly. But the motors are noisy, the range barely adequate, and the software issues 21st century incarnations of traditional Lotus, shall we say, foibles. The company reckons some Evijas will end up part of big collections, destined to be a static masterpiece and state of the art techno flagship. But the technology is moving fast and a Lotus, more than most other cars, exists to be driven. After 1,000 demanding miles, and for various disparate reasons, this one doesn’t go quite far enough.

# data.attributes.body.processed
Is everything that’s ever been filmed now available on YouTube? Apparently so. Including a very much of its time behind the scenes documentary charting the development of the 1970s Lotus Elite and Eclat. Everything is browny beige and you can practically smell the cigarettes and political incorrectness. Chief engineer Tony Rudd is a laconic presence throughout, and resembles a potential third Ronnie (ask your parents). On a specific packaging issue, he notes that “one solution was to breed a special race of passengers, but we rejected that as taking too long”. Woke was a way off.

Rudd and fellow Lotus alumnus Mike Kimberley often thought nothing of taking a prototype on a long haul roadtrip. They’d leave the Hethel HQ, near Norwich, on Friday and head to the French Riviera or Rome, returning to their desks no later than Monday lunchtime. A real world sign-off, and the sort of automotive buccaneering that worked back when the gendarmerie had a more laissez faire attitude.

Which got us thinking. Why not channel some of that spirit for Top Gear’s exclusive first road drive in the Lotus Evija? We’ve certainly waited long enough for the opportunity. The Evija broke cover in July 2019, so it rivals those other moonshot cars, the Aston Martin Valkyrie and Mercedes-AMG One, in terms of gestational challenge and hubris. It’s actually been in production for a while now, built to exacting standards in the same building in which the fabled Lotus Carlton came to life a generation ago.

Photography: Olgun Kordal

Yes, it’s our EV Hypercar of the Year and we admire the fact the Evija exists at all. But it’s also the only new electric hypercar of the past 12 months, and that surely tells its own story. With a power output of 2,011bhp (or 1.5 megawatts if you prefer), the Evija can claim to be the most powerful production car in history (well, until we get a go in the Koenigsegg Gemera, Rimac Nevera R or Hennessey F5 Venom Evolution) and it looks a million dollars. Trouble is, it costs roughly three times that, so the finished car arrives with some baggage. It also arrives with no space for any actual baggage, such are the extremes the design and engineering team have gone to. The perfect car for a 1,000 mile plus roadtrip, then, in true TG style.

And just look at it. Designed by a team led by the indefatigable Russell Carr, it has roughly the impact of a meteor that’s crash landed into Earth. Not bad for something the world’s had six years to get used to. We often invoke a car’s sculptural qualities when dissecting its design, but this one actually calls to mind Henry Moore or Barbara Hepworth. High minded reference points for a machine whose form is uncommonly intelligent, as well as dramatic. Check out the 93kWh battery pack in the assembly facility and then marvel at how Lotus has packaged it, in the middle of the car rather than underneath, including all the power modules. Then look at the tunnels either side of it, expanses of space that help the Evija’s aero efficiency but also cement its status as perhaps the most singular looking road car that is currently available.

Speaking of road, it’s time to hit it. And we do actually have a plan. Our destination is Nice, on the Côte d’Azur, but as well as paying homage to that 1970s Lotus test route, we’ll be dropping by a few places of note on the way – including Reims and the Circuit de Charade (locations of Lotus GP wins for Jim Clark and Jochen Rindt). It’s Wednesday lunchtime by the time we leave, and we’re booked on a plane home on Friday night. This is a distance and deadline to focus the mind.

With this much firepower at your command, it’s best to ease into things. A combustion engine may be conspicuously absent but the Evija still immediately floods your senses. Thanks to its configuration, you sit low like you do in a conventional sports car. It’s relatively easy to get in and out of, and user friendly once ensconced. The design team fought to include what they call ‘Becker points’, prominently rising front wings (named after legendary Lotus test driver Roger Becker). There’s a central spine in the windscreen where the huge wiper parks itself, but you don’t notice that after a while. And the F1-style steering wheel, which could have been a clumsy affectation, is actually effective. (Although not actively better. Turns out you can’t reinvent the wheel.)

Out onto the A11, we head towards London. There are five drive modes on this thing, and escalating amounts of power and driver connection. Range is likely to become our default for reasons we’ll get into, but it’s also the one in which the car feels most inauthentic. It’s wrong to talk in terms of throttle feel – the right pedal is more accurately in charge of torque demand – but it feels a bit sludgy in Range. City is sharper, Tour better still, but it’s impossible to resist trying Sport on the arrow straight road through Thetford forest. Now we have 1,257lb ft of torque to experiment with, an unholy amount of energy, and enough to send the car warping forward in a way that makes the Millennium Falcon engaging hyperdrive look like Del Boy’s three wheeler. It’s an unusual sensation and an impressive single digit in the face of physics, but also risky assuming you don’t want to end up behind bars. Or get battered round the head by your passenger. In truth, this sort of velocity isn’t a wholly pleasant experience, but the rate of acceleration and the way it sustains it is phenomenal.

The Evija’s battery is supplied by Coventry firm Hyperbat, the cells from American supplier Molicell. The battery pack alone weighs 718kg, about the same as an entire Lotus Elise S1. The Evija doesn’t move like one of those, but nor does it feel like an Elise with a hippo strapped to its roof. It uses an 800V architecture, there are two motors within each electric drive unit on the front and rear axles, and two gearboxes. So all four wheels are driven independently, for an algorithmic dynamic bandwidth to boggle the mind. Marshalling this amount of power is a ferocious challenge. Remember, the parameters are set by the four bits of rubber on the corners of the car (bespoke Pirelli Trofeo Rs). Around 85 per cent of components are from UK suppliers.

Lotus has worked hard to imbue this awesome looking machine with the character, sensation and vibrations we take for granted in a combustion engined supercar. This much is apparent as we stop for our first charge, at Thurrock services in Essex. The Evija’s EDUs – electronic drive units – emit an organic whine, deliberately unfiltered. It’s a noise you don’t notice so much on the track because you’re focused on not crashing. But at motorway speeds it’s a different matter, not least because the noise is naggingly insistent at 75mph. More soundproofing might be the order of the day.

It’s made entirely of carbon fibre, chassis, body panels and all, including the front subframes for total integrity and structural rigidity

And more range. Lotus claims 195 miles (WLTP) on a full charge, which is some way short of the early claims that we heard for the Evija. It’s also some way short of reality, because you’re mindful of not straying too far from Zap-Mapped rapid chargers, and also of not running the battery too low. Depleted cells are unhappy cells. Which means we’re stopping with about 25 miles left, a pretty slender margin of comfort, and a scant two hours and 116 miles after we set off. A pattern may be set here...

At least we find a vacant and functioning 350kW charger at Gridserve’s facility that sits close to the Dartford crossing, and we’re on our way about 15 minutes later. Mind you, the price is seriously spicy: 85p per kWh means that getting the Evija back to its modest full charge costs £54.

The Channel tunnel next, where a busload of Czech schoolkids can’t believe their eyes. It’s a reminder that cars like this have a role to play as entertainment, something the Evija’s brilliant design fully enables. The dihedral doors are pure concept car theatre. You can open them from the outside using the key fob or close them using a button on their under side. If you’re inside, there’s a button for each door on the roof header. Trouble is, they have a mind of their own and can become rather irritating. What would Colin Chapman think? Simplify and add lightness, that was his thing. The key lives in a little pocket in the centre console and its transponder demands that it sits in a specific way. Another mild frustration. A rearview camera and pop out side cameras add a techy dimension and ease the drama of reverse parking. Judging distance is still stressful, though.

Especially given the Evija’s exotic construction. It’s made entirely of carbon fibre, chassis, body panels and all, including the front subframes for total integrity and structural rigidity. The cockpit sits well within its bodywork, a layout that evokes early 1970s endurance racers, a generation that holds every car designer spellbound. There’s a complex race bred inboard suspension, codeveloped by Multimatic. That includes a Formula One-style ‘heave’ damper to absorb the effect of the Evija’s considerable downforce – an unbelievable 1,680kg at the car’s 217mph vmax – while its overall aerodynamic properties are dictated by the air flowing not just over and under it, but also through it, as we’ve seen.

Once we’re in France, the odyssey can really begin. The Evija’s interior echoes the exterior design, in the sense that it’s defined by what’s missing as much as by what’s actually there. A refreshingly simple instrument binnacle sits on top of a carbon fibre exoskeleton, while a slender central spine – known as the ‘ski jump’ – houses a series of hexagons, each one triggering a different function. It’s more concepty thinking made real, and it mostly works, the function graphics coolly backlit. Until it stops working, that is. The AC glow disappears just as the weather heats up outside, and the indicators literally go on the blink.

France is well served by rapid chargers, which is a good thing because we’re going to see a lot of them. Lotus reckons potential owners won’t do the crazy distance we’re attempting, but a real world range of about 150 miles is surely chocolate teapot stuff in terms of utility. We’re not exactly blasting between péages either, although when the self restraint goes out the window the car shrinks distance like few other things out there. Hyper powerful electric cars are like time machines or teleportation devices.

We skirt round Paris and pick up the A77 and then N7 through the Loire valley past Sancerre and Nevers. Charging stops five and six happen somewhere around here, the Evija’s 1.6 miles per kWh energy consumption and suboptimal range distinctly hampering progress. It’s also suffering repeated software glitches – we have a couple of engineers following us and they basically have to do the equivalent of a hard reset on a few occasions. I’m later told it’s because I’m leaving the car in Sport mode when I should be flicking back into City configuration. Surely it should be able to absorb this? There is also a slight pause before the Evija unleashes all its horsepower in Sport, the electric vehicle equivalent of turbo lag perhaps, a gathering of thoughts as a zillion lines of code zoom around the mainframe. The pause is swiftly forgotten once you’re at full tilt, but it should be seamless and instantaneous.

Our second overnight stop is in Millau, on the edge of the Cévennes national park, just the right side of midnight. Phew. There are two reasons for coming here. The first is to travel across (and beneath) the Millau viaduct, the world’s tallest bridge at 343m, an engineering wonder of the world that was designed by the UK’s very own superstar architect Norman Foster and opened in 2004. It spans the glorious Tarn gorge, used 290,000 tonnes of steel and concrete in its construction, and is held up by 1,500 tonnes of steel cable. This remains engineering at its most dazzling even 20 years on. It was constructed to relieve traffic congestion towards the Mediterranean, but ironically we dive off it and head east along the N107 instead.

It’s mesmerising to look at, fast as hell, and handles spectacularly. But the motors are noisy, the range barely adequate

What a road this is – that’s the second reason for coming here – and what a machine the Evija reveals itself to be in arguably its natural habitat. It’s bigger and heavier than anything Chapman and co ever envisaged but crucially still feels like a Lotus. It’s actually close to the McLaren 750S in terms of steering feel and linearity of response. The 750S was the best car I drove in 2024 and is TG’s reigning Speed Week champion, so this is high praise. Interestingly, the Evija’s steering is also electrohydraulic rather than fully electric, and there’s no regen on the braking, the big Lotus relying instead on carbon ceramics supplied by Brembo. It settles into a remarkable rhythm, the hydraulically operated, retractable rear wing and DRS finessing the aero and stabilising everything. Despite its vast complexity, there’s a delicious purity to its responses.

There’s magic here, no question. But charging for the umpteenth time and closing in on our destination, as many questions remain as there are answers. The world, we know, is refusing to fall in love with the vastly horsepowered hyper EV. This is an automotive genre that’s frankly pretty silly, at least until the battery tech serves up twice the energy density in a package that comes in at half the current weight.

Lotus also remains suspiciously coy about how many Evijas have found homes, but at £2.4m it’s unquestionably a tough sell. After 48 long hours at the wheel, the jury is still out. It’s mesmerising to look at, fast as hell, and handles spectacularly. But the motors are noisy, the range barely adequate, and the software issues 21st century incarnations of traditional Lotus, shall we say, foibles. The company reckons some Evijas will end up part of big collections, destined to be a static masterpiece and state of the art techno flagship. But the technology is moving fast and a Lotus, more than most other cars, exists to be driven. After 1,000 demanding miles, and for various disparate reasons, this one doesn’t go quite far enough.

# data.attributes.field_standfirst
In the 1970s, Lotus test drivers used to 'pop' from the factory to the south of France for the weekend testing the latest car. We follow in their footsteps...