Skoda Kodiaq vRS - long-term review

So, we now know that the Kodiaq vRS is a mighty fine family car. It’s extremely practical, extremely clever and shows surprising efficiency considering it has a turbocharged 2.0-litre engine hauling around seven-seats and an awful lot of metal. But what about that ‘vRS’ badge? Is it really justified?

Well, the answer isn’t a slam-dunk in either direction. This thing is very much not a cut-price version of a super-aggressive SUV in the style of, say, an X5 M or its distant cousin, the Lamborghini Urus. It hints at sportiness rather than embraces it with full-blooded glee. In fact, in the default Normal drive mode the suspension heaves and wallows way more than I’d like. Hence why, as discussed in the last report, my Individual programme is several steps stiffer on the suspension side of things.

Turn everything up to attack mode and the Kodiaq sharpens-up j-u-s-t enough - with a following wind - to feel like a vRS should. Let’s remember that the vRS badge has always signified sweet handling and a good dose of precision but isn’t a byword for scintillating dynamics in the way of an old Renaultsport product or something from the M Division.

So, whilst the Kodiaq doesn’t snap into turns or ever truly disguise its weight, it hangs on pretty well, carries good speed and makes an interesting, almost 5-cylinder-style noise. Would I get up early on a Sunday morning to thrash it around empty B-roads? Erm, no. Is it fun to fling it into the odd roundabout? Yeah, I’d say so.

So the vRS is not the one car solution. Then again, I don’t think any high-riding SUV really is – even a Urus or Cayenne Turbo GT. Nor does it quite shake-off its utilitarian roots and feel like an undercover missile in the style of my previous Cupra Leon VZ. Then again, at the press of a button a tow bar whirs out from behind the rear bumper. Which means your second car is freed-up to be really, really extreme. I’ll take that.