Price: £72,495
Top speed: 168mph
0-60mph: 4.5 seconds
MPG: 25.2
CO2: 260g/km
I’ve a bad back at the moment so the friendly man in Majestic said he’d load the, frankly, terrifying amount of wine I’d just bought (it was 25% off prosecco all weekend) into the boot. “Really like the car, sir,” he said, as he humped in case after case. He must have been wondering why a man would spend 70 grand on a car then buy cheap fizz. “I’m a Lexus driver, too,” he added and pointed to a giant, gold-coloured LS400 that looked at least 20 years old – which was about how old he looked. “What sort of mileage do you get?” I asked, doing a great impression of being a very boring old fart. “Don’t know,” he shrugged. “What about you?” I laughed – I didn’t know either…
The answer is not much – a shade over 25 miles to the gallon. The car he was admiring was Lexus’s new GS F. In the elite world of extreme performance saloons there are only a handful of serious players – and almost all are German: Audi, BMW, Mercedes. The offerings from that triumvirate are also all quite similar. They are all highly technical, sharply focused, 500hp-plus racers with rigid suspension and a willingness to sacrifice comfort for the sake of white-knuckle, eye-popping acceleration.
The Lexus is more than a match to any of them in performance (it has a top speed of 168mph and scorches through 62mph in 4.6 seconds). But in all other respects it is a very different beast. It is velvety and biddable, where they are unforgiving and skittish; graceful rather than brutish. It’s a revelation that such excoriating power can feel so smooth. The response from the hair-trigger throttle is so instant you’d almost think you were driving an electric car. But the engine is as far from electric as you can imagine – proper old school, and not even turbocharged. It’s a 5-litre 32-valve double-overhead-camshaft V8. That might sound meaningless to you, but to people who live for the smell of gasoline that’s a line of found poetry. And the noise it makes is astounding. Hit the start button and it comes to life with a long reverberating rumble. After about 20 seconds it seems to realise that more of this would be vulgar and it settles down to a more civilised thrum. Reassuringly it stops as well as it starts thanks to giant Brembo brakes.
The superior interior has been built to ensure your ultimate comfort. Soft touches abound – at one point I found myself actually caressing the suede-topped central console. The bucket seats keep you wedged firmly in place and, for a man with a bad back, provided instant lumbar relief.
It’s also a five-seater, although those in the slightly cramped back might not enjoy the ride as much as you. The boot is large enough to swallow three months’ wine easily… And this is the great conundrum of the expensive performance saloon: it’s a sports car that old people buy to drive slowly to wine shops.
Email Martin at martin.love@observer.co.uk or follow him on Twitter @MartinLove166
