Jeremy Clarkson once said there’s nothing worse than describing a car as fit for purpose. Far be it for me to disagree, but I disagree. Strongly, as it happens. Fit for purpose doesn’t mean boring. Nothing of the sort. Fit for purpose means that the car I’m driving – or that some punter’s paid good money for in good faith – does what it’s supposed to do. Is that bad? If it is, you can call me Susan.
Let me explain what I mean with a couple of examples. Let’s say you drop £400k on a shiny new Rolls-Royce Phantom. Fit for purpose in that scenario would include, say, it riding bloody beautifully and feeling as beautifully made as an Exocet missile. Or, if you blow £80k on a BMW M3, then fit for purpose would mean it’s as quick as an Exocet missile and, when you point it at a target, such as an apex, it hits said target with pinpoint accuracy. What’s wrong with having expectations such as those? And the truth is that many cars don’t do what they say they will on the tin.
Fit for purpose means, simply, achieving a brief – doing what’s expected – but the best cars go further. They exceed their briefs and your expectations. Not many cars achieve this mighty feat, mind, but I know of one: the humble Mk3 Skoda Superb estate. The first time I drove one – many moons ago, when I was a road tester for What Car? magazine – I thought this was a near-perfect car. Fit for purpose in the Superb’s case translates as: great practicality, a comfortable ride, nicely made, efficient…that sort of thing. It did all those things and more besides.
It wasn’t big inside, it was massive. It made St. Paul’s feel like a St. Bedsit. And while the ride wasn’t sophisticated, it was soft and squidgy and, most importantly, comfortable. Add in the plump, softly sprung seats, and driving it felt like you’d plonked your favourite armchair on a waterbed with wheels. All the engines – TDI or TSI – were smooth enough and supped fuel like it was still rationed, and it was also far better built than it needed to be. Sit in a Superb, then swap to a Mondeo, and you’ll see what I mean. Take note of the reassuring ‘thunk’ when you close a door. And I always thought the little touches, like the cloth-lined door bins front and rear, typified its brilliance.
Then there were all the Skoda ‘Simply Clever’ features. When you come out on a frosty morning and remember there’s an ice scraper clipped to the petrol cap, or get caught in a sudden downpour only to find the umbrella stashed in the door card, you really do get a warm sense of smug satisfaction. It reminds you that, in life, it’s the little things that truly matter. All these great qualities were wrapped up in a car that was good-looking, too. Not shouty. Not flashy. Not over the top. Just quietly handsome, like Colin Firth in his heyday. And speaking of ‘not over the top’ what about the price? Despite being well equipped, the Superb made those who bought one feel like they’d done a deal and, for once, come off the winner.
It was such an incredible package that when people asked me the question I am asked most often, what car should I buy?, I’d often point them in the direction of the Superb. Not all took my advice, of course. Some, believe it or not, looked at me like I’d just called their mother a you-know-what, having retained the notion that Skoda was still a crappy brand. Then I’d point out that Skodas weren’t Eastern Bloc relics anymore, but built on solid VW foundations, but I knew I was wasting my breath. But it’s a Skoda, they’d say. If you want to know how good Skodas are, just look at what motoring journalists buy. Sure, when it’s not our own money we’re spending, we’ll tell you that the latest prancing horse or raging bull is the best thing since sliced bread, and you’re a pathetic loser if you haven’t got three. But when it comes to forking out real-life wonga for a set of wheels, suddenly it’s a different story. As if by magic – you might call it blatant two-facedness – we’re knocking on the door of our local Skoda dealership while prising open our dusty, rigor-mortis-infused wallets. Mike Duff, formally of this parish, is a good example. Sure, he has his Cayman for the weekend - but his current daily is a Superb Estate.
I have one, too. When I went freelance there was no question in my mind that I’d buy a Superb Estate. I needed something comfy, practical and reasonably efficient, so it was a no-brainer. You might be wondering, then, why on earth I’ve chosen a Superb Estate for my PH COTY when I drive one every day? Well, mine isn’t that quick. I’m not a planner, you see. I leave everything until the last minute, so I wound up needing a set of wheels by a week Tuesday. I had to rush out and buy the best one I could, which, at the time, just happened to be the one with the weediest engine: the 1.4 TSI 150. Now, in reality, its performance is perfectly fine most of the time, but what I really wanted was a 280 – you know, for those occasions when ‘fine’ leaves you wanting. Sadly, I was left wanting, because there weren’t any 280s around back then.
Fast forward to this year, and I saw the news story about the Skoda Superb Sleeper. Well, I just loved the idea of it. Not only the car itself but the concept. I loved that Skoda UK loved the Mk3 so much that it wanted to give the model a proper send-off. And what better way than to make something that’s already fit for purpose, fitter still? As PHers, we love our cars. We appreciate them in all shapes, sizes and guises, but for many of us, there’s something special about a ‘sleeper’. The wolf in sheep’s clothing really resonates, right?
I’ll often criticise a car company for losing sight of what matters (BMW, I am looking at you), but the Sleeper demonstrates that the PR department that commissioned it knows what’s important. That’s why they did everything possible to keep this car looking as boggo as possible. You’d have to be pretty astute to spot the 50mm drop in ride height and huge brakes hiding behind the standard wheels. It’s in a fabulous but completely missable shade of Royal Green, too – a colour introduced in 2023 to celebrate the coronation of King Charles III – and inside, it’s all about the Cognac leather. And, oh Lordy, I do love a tan interior. I also like the fact that Skoda swerved the obvious choice of a Sportline trim. Opting instead for the lap-of-luxury Lauren & Klement spec was a stroke of genius. All that pipe-and-slippers chrome is like sticking on some more wool to hide the wolf’s teeth beneath.
Make no mistake, this is a wolfy beast. I am not going to go into all the upgrades because Matt Bird’s already reviewed the Sleeper and addressed the nitty gritty, but let me say this: courtesy of RE Performance, the Sleeper’s EA888 is now boosted by a bad-boy, Garrett PowerMax Turbo. It pumps out 477hp and 488lb ft. For some reason, the Lotus Carlton sprang to mind when I needed a yardstick to measure that against. Big Carlt had circa 377hp and 415lb ft, and weighed about the same as Big Sleep – around 1,500kg. So Big Sleep is, err, how can I put this? Surprisingly quick, which, of course, is the point.
You don’t feel that in the lower gears, mind, because they’re torque-limited. I spoke to the chaps at RE Performance and they were worried about the standard seven-speed DSG’s ability to handle the onslaught. You really only feel the extra guts after the initial getaway, which means it surprises you as much as the fella in his Boxster, who you’ve just left for dead, scratching his head. I didn’t have any timing gear with me but, had I, I reckon the 50-70mph time would make us all chuckle. I don’t know whether the gearbox software has been changed (I’m a rubbish journalist because I forgot to ask RE Performance) but the transmission seems more responsive on the down changes than I remember the standard car’s being. It makes the Sleeper seem that bit racier alongside the more in-ya-face increase in speed.
What surprised me most was the handling. This is no longer a bit of a boat. Yes, even I’ll admit that my Superb’s nickname is Boaty McBoatface. The KW coilovers are transformative. They make the Sleeper tauter, lither and less leanier, which means the front end has this immediacy that kept me smiling every time I pitched the Sleeper into a corner. And the steering is good. There’s a general misconception that VW steering is bland. The reality is, some of its more recent EPAS offerings steer really well. Even my Superb has some feel through the column and enjoyably progressive weighting. So despite its boatiness, you always know what’s happening at the front contact patches. The Sleeper magnifies that sensory experience.
On a cold, miserable day in the mountains of Wales, while hammering it into corners, I had absolute faith that the front was going to stick. My faith was repaid, too. The all-wheel traction is also just as dependable on the exit of corners. Okay, there’s no showboating oversteer, but the Sleeper’s still a thrilling, willing cross-country weapon, nonetheless. The brakes play their part, and big buggers they are, too: AP Racing six-pot calipers, clamping down on mighty discs (390mm floating ones at the front) with plumbing by Goodridge. This combo delivers a solid-feeling middle pedal with a hugely effective bite.
I won’t spoil the surprise and tell you what Nic chose for his FCOTY car, but, suffice it to say ahead of Boxing Day, it’s way more powerful than the Sleeper. It was also way more expensive, even with the Sleeper’s mods. Sure, in a straight line, he’d have had the legs to pull away. But on a twisting country road, I reckon the Sleeper would be shadowing him all the way from point A to point B. It’s the ultimate, unshakable, automotive stalker. Before I thought of the Sleeper for this piece, Stephen Dobie and I were locked in a battle for another car. You’ll find out what that was in due course, too. Some of you will think I’m not the full ticket for relinquishing such a mighty machine so willingly and choosing a suped-up Skoda instead. For the record, I’m not even into modified cars, but I’m still jolly pleased with this year’s pick. This is a great car, be in no doubt about that.
As great as it is, though, you might have spotted an almighty flaw that should’ve excluded it. However, before you start shouting, ‘It’s a one-off; you can’t buy one,’ you can. RE Performance is planning to build another one to sell. And, if the demand is there, they’ll probably build a few more, too. I’ll cover off another potential point of contention as well. It still feels like a Superb. Little that was good about the standard Superb is diminished markedly with the Sleeper. It’s still quiet; maybe too quiet, in fact. It has a custom-made downpipe and centre section but, at full chat, what you hear is still the largely familiar, muted rasp of an EA888.
The only trait that’s taken a definite knock is the slow-speed ride. It’s a bit lumpier on broken town roads, but, in other respects, it still rides nicely. And do you remember I mentioned a lack of suspension sophistication with the standard car? That’s been banished. Yes, the Sleeper feels tauter overall, but it’s never harsh and certainly not crashy. Indeed, it has that exquisite wheel control you get by picking a really high-end set of adjustable springs and dampers and applying some good-old knowledge on how to set them up.
The Superb was already a super car in my eyes, and I am thoroughly unapologetic in relishing and broadcasting my love of its fit-for-purpose qualities. By making it go even further beyond my expectations, the Sleeper has become one of my favourite cars – not just from this year, but ever. And it’s one I’d like to own, rather than one I’m telling you to buy. From concept to execution it’s fabulous. Thank you Skoda, for building Mk3 Superb, and thank you Skoda UK. Not just for building the Sleeper, but for showing us, simple car fans, that there are still car people lurking within the corporate vessel. And that every now and again, they rise to the surface and get to steer the ship for a wee while.
SPECIFICATION | SKODA SUPERB SLEEPER
Engine: 1,984cc four-cyl turbo
Transmission: 7-speed automatic, all-wheel drive
Power (hp): 477
Torque (lb ft): 486
0-62mph: circ 4.5 secs
Top speed: 155mph
Weight (kg): 1,575 (standard)
MPG: 39.8 (standard)
CO2: 159 (standard)
Price: N/A
Honourable mention | Renault 5 E-Tech
If any of you read my review of the new Renault 5 last week, you won’t be surprised to see it here as my honourable mention. In fact, it’s here for much the same reason that the Sleeper is. The R5 is a car that, when you relay the stats, looks like the definition of ordinary. Range, efficiency, power, acceleration – they’re all so-so. But what I adored about the R5 was how it made me feel. This was even more profound because, of course, the R5 isn’t a car for traditional PHers. It doesn’t have any pistons, after all, bar the ones in its brakes. And yet, despite this obvious and seemingly catastrophic failing, the little R5 made me smile. It was fun, and, as I said in the review, I didn’t want to give it back. It’s an obvious quick win to relaunch an icon, but much harder to further a legacy. I think, against all the odds, Renault has managed to do it, though. To build the R5, as an EV, and enthuse it with a sense of genuine love and passion, shows that it’s no cynical pastiche. It gave me a real feeling of hope for the future of motoring.
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