Ford Focus RS

Some of my fondest driving memories have involved hot hatches. Affordable to the masses and yet more focused as a driving machine than they had any right to be, they've always been a compelling proposition to me. Cars like the nonsense-free, steel-wheeled 106 Rallye with their signatory tricolour stickers lit up my early years on the road and taught the basics of driving by having minimal weight and no stability programmes, ABS or even power steering. All it had was beautiful feel and a ballsy engine which craved revs, revs and even more revs. It wasn't even particularly quick, but that's just not the point. It was about one thing and one thing only: fun.

They've come such a long way since then - even in the last ten years their development has been rather exceptional. Rewind back to 2005 and a somewhat primitive Clio with a now modest 182bhp, trick suspension and another rev-hungry engine was dominating the headlines, chasing cars worth five times as much in motoring's very own David versus multiple Goliaths tale on challenging roads. Fast forward back to the present day and 300bhp is seemingly the benchmark for the latest ultra breed of steroid-munching hatchbacks. It wasn't too long ago that travelling from 0-60mph in under five seconds was the reserve of six-figure Ferraris. Now it's a commonality and available for a fraction of the cost.

Cars like the Audi RS3, BMW M135i, Mercedes A45 AMG and Volkswagen Golf R have given the hot hatch moniker an all-new meaning. They're no longer anti-social boy-racer specials, infamous for tearing up and down city centre dual carriageways on a Sunday evening 'cruise' near a McDonald's. They've come of age and are a genuine, more practical alternative to full-on performance cars.

But they should still retain a modicum of innocence, be free from contrivance and offer the purest form of driver involvement. What ever happened to a harmless bit of lift-off oversteer like you got in Peugeots of old? If you had a change of heart and backed off the throttle mid-corner the rear would spring into action at the flick of a switch. You had to be ready to correct it too because there were no electronic aids hiding below to get you out of trouble. Intrinsic acts such as that have wistfully been lost.

While today's bunch are extraordinarily capable things, unquestionably better built and devastatingly fast, they simply aren't as fun as traditional hot hatches. There's just no arguing with that. That comes at the enthusiasts' chagrin as there are still people who crave feeling a car wriggle in protest, slide and eventually win its touch-and-go battle for traction instead of having to rely on a dispassionate differential to pull it round a bend. Driver and hot hatch should be an inveterate twosome; if the feeling of detachment is there it's simply failed its most simple of tasks.

However, there's one modern-day hot hatch that has all the full-blooded, turbocharged grunt of new and the charming, quaint and hilariously simple attributes of old - the second generation Ford Focus RS.

First released in all its green glory in 2009 (it was available in wallflower white and boring blue, too), never before has a hot hatch stood out quite like it. Even six years on you're left ever so slightly gobsmacked when one drives by, especially when it's painted in the dazzling, almost indecorous tint that's spookily similar to Lamborghini's vibrant Verde Ithaca hue. It's just as shocking now as it was back then: pumped-up, squat, imposing and hugely impressive to behold. Your eyes trip up over themselves as they struggle to take everything in. 

Get inside the green monster and its interior is rather subdued. Most things would be after the drama of the exterior, but it's actually a nice place to sit. You're clasped in by a great pair of RS-badged Recaros, the steering wheel is of a lovely size and the instruments, design and overall feel is typical Ford fare so it's easy to use and totally inoffensive to anyone this side of a Pagani owner. Start it up and there's an immediate burble - those large, twin pipes out back make the most of the 2.5-litre five-cylinder engine's vocals. It sounds proper, true and thunderous when you so much as brush against its throttle.

It doesn't take long for its key traits - engine, gearbox and steering - to come to light once you're moving. They vie for your attention, each hoping to be lauded as the key aspect of the Focus RS experience. The occasion in a way is dominated by that engine. For something that's actually quite an archaic plant, from a Volvo of all places, it manages to feel sensationally exotic. Its five-cylinder tone, which throbs when stationary and positively blares its resonance aloud once it's above 4,000rpm grows and grows into arguably one of the all-time great soundtracks.

The gearbox's action is next up. Fast Fords always seem to have good 'boxes but the RS's feels beautiful to use and has a short throw, ultra-precise way to it; it celebrates the simplistic and now rare joy of merely using a manual. It's made even more exceptional by the fact that the majority of its newer rivals are being sold with semi-auto alternatives - it's a real strike in the heart of the twin-clutch brigade.

There's also something which I didn't quite expect: body control. When I say that I don't just mean it's good for a performance car, it's good full stop. The trick 'RevoKnuckle' suspension plays a major role in this, ironing out hellish ruts once you're attacking bends, allowing none of those heart-in-mouth moments to creep in where a car's front wheels skip along and scrabble to conjure up enough purchase when they're needed the most. It's a hugely tractable, faithful package.

All paths return to its engine, though. The sheer mid-range of the thing is quite surreal. It's properly brisk throughout its rev range but that monumental middle part when it's flexing its muscles results in an astonishing lunge towards the upper reaches when its peak power of 297bhp is delivered in all its might. It feels more than just a shade under the 300 mark in truth and you'd be unsurprised if Ford's figure is indeed a conservative one.

It just doesn't feel big, either. You're aware it's a full-sized hatch but once it's moving it's alert, on its toes and supreme when the road starts to twist. That body control remains, the gearbox wants to be worked and there's constant power on tap, emanating in a deep wail whenever you ask for it. The brakes require warmth but soon become a trustworthy ally to have. Lean on them and try your best to diminish their power reserves but they're evidently free from any real signs of fade on the road.

Sure, it lacks the polish and point-to-point fluidity of its biggest rival - the Renaultsport Megane - but it more than makes up for it with its sheer character and the feel it exudes. The Megane is that composed it almost robs you of some form of involvement, but the RS is rough around the edges and its grip levels aren't as high so you feel like you're more a part of the experience. It's better, more loveable for being a little worse - does that make sense? I highly doubt it does but I think Ford got it right when they made this iteration of its magnificent Focus RS. It is what it is. It's a genuine mini exotic with massively admirable traits and what's more it doesn't take itself too seriously - it knows where it loses out to its rivals but makes no excuses for it. It's just there, in all its green glory, basking in its own brilliance. It's a laugh, it's fun and its character shines. Given that there's seemingly a severe deficiency of that trait in a lot of cars in 2015, I absolutely adore the RS for just how unpretentious it is. It's not the last word in dynamic supremacy, but there's just something absolutely extraordinary about its entire package.