HSV Clubsport R8 v Mitsubishi Lancer Evo IX v Subaru WRX STi 2007 Comparison

Rush Hour

What we're talking about, right down in the guts of it, is the rush. It's when a wallop of turbo boost, a corkscrewing chassis and the aural onslaught of redline buzzer are all, for ecstatic fractions of a second, too much to consciously process. It's when you're heeled hard over in a quick corner, tyres already straining at their limits, and your right calf muscle says to the brain: "It's okay. I've got this. And I'm going in there for more."

I've often wondered whether the rush is literally erotic; perhaps lateral g-force squeeze sex pheromones into the system. Or is the rush from endorphins, your body running a 100-metre sprint while you're strapped to a seat? Maybe it's simply fear – a dance along the rev-limiter of selfpreservation, the body at max boost on intercooled adrenaline.

I've actually thought of assembling a panel of experts to find out what's really behind the rush: physicists, psychologists, sports medicine specialists. Maybe one day I will. But for the meantime, we've assembled three other leading authorities on the subject. Two of them are well-known and impressively credentialed. The other is the most recent graduate from a traditional school of excitement.

Certain formulae produce a predictable outcome. Nitroglycerine. Turbo, all-wheel drive. The two cars that have, for several years, best and most affordably illustrated the outcome of the latter, are the Subaru Impreza WRX STi and the Mitsu' Lancer which-evo.

We're up to Evo IX now, though it was launched way back in August 2005 as basically a facelift of the two-year-old Evo VIII. The Lancer lookalike body is deceptively functional, concealing the tricknology of an aluminium roof (saving 4kg topside) behind more immediately noticeable features like shoddily mismatched paint colours between metal and plastic.

The biggest change, aside from a price tag of $56,789 ($5,000 less than the old Evo VIII), is the addition of MIVEC variable valve timing and lift. The venerable 2.0-litre, 16-valve inline four has wrung out a further 11kW to top out at a claimed 206kW at 6000rpm and 355Nm at 3000rpm.

That might actually approximate its real power output. Should you need reminding, Japanese manufacturers supposedly adhere to a voluntary power limit of 280PS horsepower, or 206kW. It may or may not be coincidence, then, that the new 2.5-litre, turbocharged Subaru WRX STi makes 206kW (also up by 11kW, over the previous 2.0-litre).

The Mitsubishi sells purely on lust, not luxury. As with pretty much every Evo, the interior is poverty-pack plastic, the redprinted instruments basic and illegible. There's climate-air and a basic, six-stack CD, but airbags are at a bare minimum, with one each for driver and passenger.

Only the fabulous leather and Alcantara Recaro seats, a tight little leather Momo wheel and some half-arsed, carbonfibre-esque trim bits stop the Evo's insides from looking like an Avis also-ran.

Mechanically, the Mitsu's familiar enough, with inverted struts up front and a multilink rear. The rear diff's Active Yaw Control, introduced more than 10 years ago on Evo IV, brilliantly shuffles torque between the rear wheels to tune turn-in and traction throughout a corner.

It works in concert with the Active Centre Differential, that does much the same thing between the front and rear axles. It's operated by a dashboard switch and offers Tarmac, Gravel and Snow settings.

According to Mitsubishi's own blurb, about the only chassis change for Evo IX was a slightly lower rear ride height.

Subaru's WRX STi ($56,990) has a bit more to boast about: more cubic inches out front. The Liberty-based engine out-torques the smaller Evo, with 392Nm at 4000rpm – this is offset only somewhat by the Subaru's 85kg weight disadvantage (1495kg, versus 1410).

The Subaru's 225/45R17 Bridgestone tyres might be a centimetre narrower than the Mitsubishi's Yokohamas, but one look at the Potenza RE-070s' race-spec tread tells you this Subie's in search of serious traction. It gets it through the inevitable all-wheeldrive system and DCCD, or Driver Control Centre Differential, which offers automatic and manual settings to vary torque distribution from the regular 35/65 front/rear split. Confusingly, the manual, rollback thumbwheel doesn't send 100 percent of the torque to the rear wheels, but indicates the lock-up factor of the centre differential, effectively ensuring more drive to the front wheels.

Curiously, a stab at the same, centreconsole switch location in the Mitsubishi will instead find a manual/auto water spray for the intercooler. (The two cars transpose their diff and spray switches almost exactly). Other similarities include 17-inch alloy wheels and big, Brembo brakes, with slightly larger rotors in the Subaru, but in both cases clamped up front by four-piston calipers.

Actually, these two cars have plenty in common. They're both Japanese. Both fourcylinder turbos, both all-wheel drive. Both claim 0-100km/h in mid to high fives, and standing 400s in 13.8 seconds. And on a personal note, both of them do the trouserbusiness for me.

The HSV Clubsport R8, the most expensive car here at $62,890, really doesn't. It was amusing, in the wake of the VE Commodore's deserved COTY victory, to read (in Wheels and elsewhere) of the Wheels writers' blatant bias toward Holden and local cars in general.

I voted for the VE, and I stand behind that. I was utterly amazed by HSV's achievements with it, too. At the same time, I dreamed aloud of the benefit to Australia's collective IQ if the Hoytchessvoy/Effpoyvoy/Baffust demographic were deleted from it.

But, y'know, I'm a cultural-cringing, Euro-biased wanker, like all those bloody Wheels journos.

No point dumping on the pushrod V8, because we all know how Holden's 6.0-litre LS2 manages inordinate fuel efficiency for its capacity and output. In HSV's now one-donkfits- all catalogue, the R8 gets the regulation 307kW at 6000rpm and 550Nm at 4400rpm. Bear in mind here that, while the atmo V8's peak torque occurs at higher revs than those of both turbo fours, the 6.0-litre makes more than 400Nm at just 1000rpm. A torque monster that loves to rev? Yep, somehow, this motor's both.

All of which suggests that the Clubsport's six-speed manual gearbox (the slusher's likewise a six-speed) has a few more cogs than it strictly needs. But it's lighter, a bit tighter, and no longer a chore to use. In fact, we'll hold onto our knob as symbolic of the improvements wrought by the VE update (or E-Series, in HSV's world).

The Clubsport's easily the most rounded, fully-equipped and family-friendly sports sedan of this trio, starting at the driver's station. There's steering column height and reach adjustment, and auxiliary controls on its fairly large wheel. The seat's large and accommodating compared with the others, but firmer and better-fitting than ever before, and offering manual lumbar and electric cushion adjustment.

Underneath, the Clubsport R8 doesn't get the MRC magnetic damping that so impressed us on the GTS. But HSV's tweaks have mimicked the donor VE's leap in sophistication, maintaining a surprisingly supple ride even on the 19-inch Potenza RE-050As. Peeking inside them reveals the biggest brake rotors here, clamped by fourpiston calipers at both ends.

On paper, the Clubsport R8 boasts the fastest 0-100km/h acceleration time, its claimed 5.0 seconds besting Subaru's claim by 0.4sec and Mitsubishi's by 0.7sec. But we didn't get to do our performance testing on paper.

Torrential rain over every part of Sydney lacking a dam made a joke of our performance runs, with even the AWDs more The R8 demands only 50 percent of the effort to deliver 85 percent of the outcome of the frenetic AWDs than a second off any representative numbers. We ran dry tests a week later (see sidebar p52), but that didn't stop us from giving it a burl on the day. The sticky-tyred Subaru was first up, and there it was. The rush.

Within half a second of its inching from the line, a tsunami of boost lit everything up, the tyres hopping and twisting, sending the revs bouncing off the limiter and the driver's left hand snatching for second for the ride to start again. I'd covered no more than 10 metres, and was grinning, flushed, like I'd hot-lapped the Nürburgring.

The exercise also suddenly put the Clubsport R8 literally on the back foot. Anything more than hearse-like progress from a standing start had it slipping and stuttering on the ESP. There was concern in then having to stomp the HSV's assertive brakes at 130km/h or so, tyres squirreling on the ABS to discard some speed before gingerly tipping its 1.8 tonnes into Turn One.

Gotta admit, it was a rush, of sorts...

It was a very different story on the road. The HSV's rush is normally delivered in big doses of admiration. It is to the Japanese turbo-terrors what a good, feature-length thriller is to internet porn.

‘Relaxed' doesn't sound like a formula for excitement, but don't be fooled. The R8's magic is in its ability to demand only 50 percent of the effort, to deliver 85 percent of the outcome of the frenetic all-wheel drives. It's fearsomely fast, all things relative, but far more settled and linear in its driving and responses.

The steering feel is superb, again in the context of a big and comfortable car. It made me think of a Jaguar, actually, but for the HSV's rack-rattle. At 2.8 turns lock-to-lock it's a tad slower than the light, tramline-crazy Subaru's, and quite different from the sublime swiftness and feel of the Mitsubishi.

Hard into it on a twisting road, the HSV feels comfortable and compliant, and while rolling more noticeably, its grip and control remain superb. It absorbs both small and large hits with some body movement and bumpthump noise from the rear end, but rarely with any directional unsettling. It never feels like it's going to hit a bump and spit you.

And just when you're deciding that the front end's bloody good, comes the awareness of the rear. Times without number, with the car already rolled hard into the corner, my right foot would get optimistic about kicking more coal at it. And the thing would open up like a giant maw and swallow my whole leg, finding grip and forward motion way beyond expectation.

Do this and look at the ESP; no light flashing. In fact, turn off the ESP, because what we're looking at here is sheer suspension competence, mated to a big-bore atmo engine that burrows
its grunt straight into the ground.

That sort of natural balance, ride compliance and ease of go-fastness is something that I've long admired in Subaru's standard Impreza WRX. Taking one of those and working it up to this new STi's level of performance and grip would, following the traditional path, probably require overly stiff suspension, temperamental track-day rubber, a big-boosty engine, a stronger and knobbier gearbox, toughened (and correspondingly more coarse) drivetrain, along with a loss of steering feel.

Which is basically what Subaru's STi division seems to have ended up with, too.

One of the first things you notice is the engine noise: it's no longer the warm, whoofly warble we know so well, but a hard-edged, machine-lathe sound. Adding to competitioncar ambience is a background chorus of gear noises and whirring from the tyres' big tread blocks. The tricky-diffed drivetrain winds up in tight manoeuvring and shunts subtly in light-throttle cruising.

The engine's extra cubes first make themselves felt off-boost, with better response than the Lancer's tiddly 2.0-litre in suburban dawdling. And, er, they make themselves felt on-boost, too, with a phenomenally strong mid-range that gathers up everything and absolutely launches itself out of corners.

On a twisty section of road, where the  Clubsport had flowed effortlessly and enjoyably, the Subaru was unquestionably the quickest between corners. Squeezing the throttle just a tad early to allow for the slight lag seemed to perfectly time the boost's arrival. The only bummer in accessing all this grunt is the baulky, knuckly feel of the gearshift.

Offsetting that, the STi had the best brakes of the three – big, chunky Brembos, very similar to the Lancer's, but with a stronger and more consistent pedal feel. Again, very much like a race car's.

The suspension's stiffness would have you expect that the STi is a bucking, darty, unsettled handful on a road like this. In fact, beyond light, nose-up feel of the steering and the turn-in understeer, the Sube has tons of grip and directional integrity. It simply gets better, the faster you dare to go.

The most marked imr is the rush from endorphins, yar end. With the DCCD left in Auto, red mist in the eyes and heat in the tyres, the Rexy's rear started rolling in nicely on turn-in, aiding the otherwise dull turn-in from the steering. Mid-corner, it sat down and was responsive, as never before, to throttle adjustments. Despite the stiff ride, it remained predictable and coped amazingly well (if not in comfort terms) with the bumps.

Have to admit, both Peter McKay and I tried various settings with the manual DCCD, and on our twisting tarmac test road, couldn't feel any real difference in the chassis' behaviour.

But it's hard to just get in and go fast. The Subaru is showing its age and you're compensating for go-fast compromises like the turn-in understeer, the strongly turbocharged power delivery, the sticky gearshift. It takes practice and concentration to turn that pointand- squirt speed into a polished performance. The only secret is that you have to go faster; when you do, the STi gets better and better.

But never, in my opinion, does it get quite as good as the Mitsubishi. From the moment your butt slips into those supportive Recaros, you fire up the willing little 2.0-litre and point the thing at the first corner, you'll find that both the visceral thrill of the Subaru and the all-of-a-piece performance of the HSV both come together in the Evo.

The steering, with just 2.1 turns lock-tolock, is utterly sublime in its turn-in rapidity and consistent feel and feedback (if not its dreadful turning circle). The front end lacks only the visual evidence of a three-metre nail sticking through the bonnet to describe its grip and confidence.

You wring out the Evo with revs, the sensation an even more involving blend of the Subaru's mid-range floodgates and the HSV's strong, linear delivery. The gearbox is notchy, but lighter and faster than either rival's. You stand on serious Brembo stoppers, the pedal's slightly softer feel (than the Subaru's) offset by the better feedback you're getting through the chassis and the sweet, progressive tyres.

There's an integration to the Evo's entire chassis that the Subaru lacks; yet with an urgency and responsiveness that you don't get in the similarly rounded, but relaxed Clubsport. The ride is almost identical to the Subaru's – skateboard-sharp – and yet, whatever the conditions, the Evo chassis just works the surface in a way the others can't.

Downsides? For the car with the smallest engine here, the Evo works the bowsers hardest – it averaged 13.0L/100km (12.6L/100km for the HSV and 12L/100km for the STi). It should be noted that all cars returned consumption numbers better than we've previously recorded, but our route did include a large number of freeway kays.

Oh, and for what one might presume to be a sports sedan, the Mitsubishi's short, plank-like rear seat is barely deserving of the name. The Subaru's is much better shaped, and adds a through-port as some compensation for its iffy headroom, but both are ridiculed in this company by a car with truly world-class rear cabin comfort and effortless, daily useability.

But this isn't about the rush-hour. Just the rush. And yet again, for us the answer is Evo.