Cupra Born VZ - long-term review

Please excuse the inexcusable cliche, but I’ve been on an emotional journey with the Born VZ. It all started when Paul Horrell drove one for the first time in Barcelona last year. He gave it a 9/10. How – I asked – could a power hike, stiffer suspension, some adaptive damping and grippier rubber possibly transform the Born into something worthy of mention alongside Ioniq 5 N? An argument was had. And I lost.

Fast forward three months, and the VZ was sat on my driveway. ‘At last,’ I thought. ‘Time to show Paul that it takes more than engineering platitudes and a pithy press release to make an exciting e-hot hatch.’ Well… as it turns out… I was wrong. Very wrong. And you know what? Never before has humble pie tasted so delicious.

The VZ was a laugh. A proper, proper hoot. Immediate throttle response, enthralling acceleration, balance through corners; chef’s kiss. On twisty back roads it’s in its element, and with no crackling exhaust your b-road thrills don’t spark a wave of noise complaints. It’s anti-social behaviour, but with a conscience. On the flipside, ask it to bomb 300 miles up the motorway and it’ll do that easily too. Charging permitting, of course. What a machine.

So as the newest member of Hypocrites Converted, you can imagine my reaction when Gregorious Potts (you didn’t know Greg was short for that, did you?) asked me to see what his VZ was like on track. No stragglers in the way, no T-junctions to be wary of, no potholes to dance around; just Track Môn, lots of run-off, and as much bravery as I dare deploy with my right toe. Yeah boi.

In the name of thoroughness, safety and pure visual gratuity, a costume change was needed. Can’t have the Real McCoys track experience without going Full Stig, can you? Enter a race suit rescued from the Top Gear production office just days before its untimely demolition. RIP.

Keen not to wipe out any of the other nine contenders on our hot hatch showdown, I tiptoe along the pit exit before nailing it towards the first hairpin. There’s that same jolt of thrust as before, but without hedgerows and telegraph poles ablur either side of the A-pillars. That’s the thing about wide open circuits: going twice as fast doesn’t mean double the adrenaline.

Next up is a fast right-hander that really sorts the McLarens from the Saubers. A good chassis will tuck in and let you play with your line on the throttle; a bad one will just wash out. I throw the VZ in and… ah. Straight away I’m a passenger, understeering towards the kerb as though I’ve passed its event horizon. Turns out weighing 1,924kg catches up with you eventually.

Not to be deterred, I bury the throttle again. 80mph, 90mph, 100mph… this can’t be good for the range. Suddenly I’m bearing down on the biggest braking zone on track, and I plant the pedal into the carpet. Off comes the speed, but not quickly enough, and the apex sails by as I barrel into the run-off. Probably should’ve seen that coming: the VZ’s brakes are no bigger than on the regular Born, and badly exposed when the speedo hits triple figures.

After a few laps I pull into the pit lane, mildly disappointed. But I quickly get over it: the VZ is at its exhilarating best at sensible speeds, and that’s to its immense credit not its detriment. Phew. Here endeth my emotional jou- [author physically restrained].