So what is it about the Subaru Impreza WRX? What indeed?
It’s a cult car. It gathers rave reviews from motorhacks. In generic terms it has even topped the J D Power reliability surveys. It has a sexy image.
(Yeah. My partner in motoring writing is the one with the reputation for writing a ‘raunchy’ review of the car recently. Being a woman, she got away with it, I suppose. Ask me about the Fiat Tipo Sedicivalvole sometime.)
The WRX is trading on the marque’s highly successful World Rally Car built loosely on the basic Impreza concept.
And it is not false trading. Because the WRX, as the latest ‘want it’ version of the highly successful Impreza Turbo, has performance to match its sales pitch.
In a ‘go’ society, it has go in spades. Amongst those who know what real heavy motoring is all about, it has a cred which is deserved. But how many of those who buy it will ever get the chance to experience what it does best? Mostly they’ll be able to just talk about their car and reflect the WRC Championship aura.
They’ll probably HAVE to talk about it to half of their friends. The half who won’t otherwise know what they’re talking about. And who certainly won’t be impressed by the looks of the car.
The packaging is uninspiring. If you wanted an example of anodyne in car style, Impreza is it.
If you want example of tentative tarting, the WRX’s boot-lid spoiler provides. And when you close the same lid down, you get a really unmacho tinny sound (though I think it is aluminium).
From the front, there’s a big-eyed look that is attractive. But you can get this from a lot of other cars. Ones that probably also look a lot sexier overall. And are probably cheaper too.
So, as I asked, what is it all about this Impreza?
Hmm. Reputation? Only from the cognoscenti. Pulling power? Only if you’re young enough to be equally attractive. That macho feeling? Oh yes, if you get the chance to accelerate from nothing up to the limit, and keep the revs between 4000-6000rpm. There’s a boot in the back then that in certain circumstances can verge on the orgasmic.
The WRX is pussycat easy to drive in Naas Road commuting traffic. But there’s no fun in that beyond the occasional sprint out of the M50 WestLink toll. Or a 5am dart along the Leixlip Bypass. Perhaps the best place to get a real experience of what the WRX offers is a chase over the Wicklow mountains from Hollywood to Laragh, where there’s the very important facility of being able to see ahead for quite a distance along a nicely twisty and undulating road.
This is where I found the true WRX. Where the wide tyres could grip under pressure and the 4WD could show the sure Subaru stance on tightening bends. Where the 2-litre could be kept through the gears in that magic 2Ks of power-band. Where the precise shifter helped to a soul-stirring experience. All up to the legal limit.
It is the kind of road where the form-fitting seats that on commuting duty can be rather on the tight side come into their own as you’re pulling Gs out of the Kings River bridge and hurtling up to where they shot that Kit Kat TV ad with the dopey cop and the hairdryer.
It is where the suspension that can be a little thumpy in ordinary driving flexes its shocks on the humpbacks still remaining after they resurfaced the ‘Miriam Fox Highway’ for the Tour de France cycle race and keeps the car just that rather than letting it become an aeroplane (ask me about my uncle’s Opel Rekord A sometime).
It is where, as you sweep down from Turlough Hill and come head on to the amazing set they’ve recently built for the film ‘Reign of Fire’ at the top of the Glendalough gorge, that you can (and should, because it’s a bit of a drop) finally relax and become a commuter again.
And after that, all that’s left is posing. In front of those who’ve heard of the World Rally Car with the name Impreza. And for those who haven’t become familiar with the shape on TV, you really need to buy decals with the car.
Otherwise, most people will never know.
When you’ve lashed out thirty grand on a car that you only get to lash about once in a blue moon over Wicklow, that would be a shame.
Ask me about it sometime.
Please?
June 2001
by Brian Byrne