Every drive in the RS was an experience, and its appeal never wore off

I found the RS irresistible. That’s the truth of it. It wasn’t true of everyone here, because much like the original Focus RS, this one managed to divide opinions. Having driven other examples of the new RS we also know that, rather like the old car, some are better than others – and ours wasn’t the best.

So once again we have a fast Ford that feels far too specialised to have come from a giant corporation. For me that’s a powerful part of the Focus RS’s appeal – it’s a more personal, bespoke car than a Golf GTI or a Mégane R26. But then I never saw it as a hot hatch. In its mannerisms and at heart it’s Impreza‑like, rally-ish. Partly this is down to the angry, whooshing, warbling engine note (all the soundtrack was missing was the tinkle of grit and gravel pebble-dashing the undertray), but also to the RS’s take-no-prisoners attitude to any given B-road.

It didn’t matter if you weren’t in the mood – the RS always was and its sheer force of personality meant that very soon afterwards you were too. This made every drive home, each lunchtime trundle to Tesco an experience. Its appeal never wore off, either, chiefly because this car’s dynamic behaviour was so complex and, well, unique. There was almost always more front-end grip than you thought, and perhaps as a consequence, occasionally less at the back.

Naturally, tyre wear was an issue. The inner edges of the fronts were shot when the car went back (the outer edges were largely unmarked), and that despite the car having been subjected to a bare minimum of track abuse. Even when the rubber was fresh it struggled to contain the rampant power and torque of the turbo’d 2.5-litre five-cylinder (we saw 294bhp and a scarcely credible 370lb ft on the dyno – see artwork). Ford’s claims to have banished torque steer are well wide of the mark. Go for a vigorous start and it’s not just wheelspin that’s an issue, but full-on axle tramp. Throw in some bumps and cambers and you’re in for an upper-body workout as the front end tussles with the tarmac, forcing an elbows-out driving style.

The RS’s cross-country attitude is undeniably more thuggish than the R26.R’s, and that did attract (perhaps deserved) criticism, but you could never accuse it of being dull. I found it hugely absorbing because you had to work hard at it, learn its peculiarities, build a relationship with it.

I wasn’t fond of all its foibles, though. The turning circle was rubbish, operating your iPod through the touchscreen was painfully slow, the pumping-iron physique baited everyone, the rear spoiler rattled as you closed the tailgate and we never did sort the heel and toe-ing issue (the throttle was mounted too low compared to the brake). We did discover the root cause, though. In the ST the brake is much softer at the top end, so you’re in the meat of the travel when trying to heel and toe, whereas in the RS there’s much more initial braking response.

But our biggest problem was the engine’s refusal to behave itself on light throttle openings. We’ve spoken to several owners about this and most are in agreement: the engine surges, making the RS hard to drive smoothly. People who know much more about this than I do believe it’s an issue with the throttle mapping, but although our car was investigated by Ford twice (and slightly improved), the problem persisted.

Lugging hard through the mid-range the engine was dynamite, and locked in place by those superb Recaros, with a commanding view of the road ahead (the seats were mounted too high), there was little that could touch the RS’s pace along a challenging road. Driving it you had a sense of its barely contained energy, its urgency and explosive delivery. It’s utterly, utterly different to the ST, and to answer all the forum debates we’ve seen, massively faster across the ground, too.

At the moment it’s also a ridiculously safe place for your money. Some dealers are still charging way over list for new cars, but the cheapest used one we’ve seen was a blue 4000-miler for £26,000. Naturally, prices will settle as demand is met (the waiting list currently stands at around four months), but if the last RS is anything to go by, the new one will always be a desirable thing. Other costs were low, too. Our short loan meant we never made it to the first service, but it’s proved every bit as economical as our ST long-termer, and consumed just half a litre of oil.

Rumours abound that Ford may launch its own uprated version to take on the tuned RSs that are now emerging, but Ford denies this and past history suggests it’s unlikely, too. So take the RS for what it is: a car that’s left a gaping hole on our fleet.