Type S. That's not as good as a Type R, is it? (And what's happened to the hyphens? They've been deleted.) S means slightly sporty which, as far as the new Honda Accord range is concerned, is as far as it currently gets.

There may be an Accord Type R again sometime in the future, but don't bank on it. And, just to confuse things a little more, there's also an Accord Sport. It has a 2-litre engine and the same interior trim as the Type S, but lacks the damp-course-level bodykit. It also lacks 400cc, because the up-spec versions of the Accord now have a big-lunged four-cylinder of 2.4 litres and 190bhp. It's sounding better already.

This all-new engine has a balancer shaft and, as you would expect, the whole twin-cam VTEC thing with variable inlet valve timing (in both phasing and duration) and lift. Despite its hefty pistons and undersquare bore/stroke dimensions, the engine doesn't reach its 190bhp until 6800rpm. This is a very Honda-ish motor.

I have to tell you, though, that the Type S doesn't have any mechanical enhancements over the trouser-press and conference-centre 2.4 Executive, not even to its chassis settings and wheel/tyre spec. You can add 17in wheels (16in is standard) and a firmed-up spring and damper combination which lowers ride height by an inch, but we haven't tried this yet. Does it matter? Read on...

Honda is pitching the new Accord as a 'quality' car. That means neither mass-market nor premium, but somewhere in between in a microfine dissection of brand hierarchies. Trouble is, every carmaker is trying to head upmarket, but if everyone does it we'll be back where we started. Anyway, the part of the brandscape to which Honda is headed is that populated by Audi (deemed by Honda to be a touch lower down the perfection axis than BMW and Mercedes), Saab, Volvo, Alfa and Rover.

So you'd expect some upmarket signifiers, the things that set posh apart from proletarian. We're seeking, for example, soft-touch and padded surfaces inside, including lower facia and door panels, and a gas strut or two to hold the bonnet open. We seek, but do not find.

Yes, everything fits together beautifully and moves smoothly, and the glovebox is very nicely flock-lined, but the tactility is more Mondeo than Mercedes. And while the body shape is tidy enough, it looks somehow unresolved next to the new Mazda 6 with which it will surely be compared (and whose front grille it unintentionally mimics). Yes, the lights are slim, the profile is wedgy and the flanks bear an Alfa 156-aping lack of car-park protection, but are those wheels big enough? Not to most eyes.

Maybe, then, the value is in the underskin engineering and the driving qualities that flow therefrom. That would be a very Honda-ish approach, putting priority on the mechanicals where much of the buying public would fail to notice just so the engineers can sleep soundly. So we'll go for a fling along some sinuous roads and find out.

The instruments light up, in backlit bright red, as soon as you open the door. The decorative motif is 'technical metal', the ambience dark and sombre. Into the first of six gears, off we move with the engine quiet but metallically Honda-edged. Underfoot is a drive-by-wire throttle, crisp and smooth apart from an abruptness when throttling-off.

The graph shows a plump, nicely-flattened torque curve, and that's how the engine feels. It revs with zeal but you don't have to hit the heights; it's very driveable. But that is not what makes the Accord, against indications so far, special. You need some corners to discover where its salvation lies.
I'm going to be a bit daring here, and say that the Accord may just be the sweetest-handling front-wheel-drive saloon you can currently buy. It's not just that it has loads of grip, alert steering and a resilient ride; it's the mechanical precision of the controls, especially the steering, the progressive way they respond and the transparency of the messages they convey. Obviously there is rubber in the double-wishbone suspension, but it's very cleverly deployed to absorb just what it needs to without smothering the good signals that light a keen driver's fire.
The understeer-resisting agility is underscored by VSA (Vehicle Stability Assist), but its subtle intervention merely trims the dynamics rather than defining them. So, do we need the dealer-fit suspension-and wheels pack? Cosmetics apart, we do not.

Yes, the Type S is a good intro, with a promising seam of evoness beneath the understated visuals. Now, about that Type R...