Yet, as I blatted my way through the Ioniq 5 N’s not-really-gears, the synthesised pop-pop-crackle of the not-really-overrun ringing through the cabin as I wound my way up to the car park to meet road tester Illya Verpraet with the Morgan, I got to thinking.
Surely, in its own way the Hyundai has to be more full of shock and awe than the Morgan. The Supersport, yes, we should celebrate: it’s a festival of lightweight materials, classic proportions and all things that make us enthusiasts go dewy-eyed about yesteryear.
But the Hyundai? The fanfare about this car isn’t because it exceeds the moderate expectations you might have of a battery-powered, high-roofed, 4.7m-long hatchback. Hit the right buttons in the Ioniq 5 N and it’s suddenly channelling the attitude and handling of a Nissan GT-R.
It doesn’t accelerate; rather it detonates, flinging itself through the arcadia of the Welsh hills with the sort of forceful delight that is impossible to resist. Oh, what’s that you want? A 90deg corner with a bit of a tweak from the rear axle, plenty of drama and playfulness but none of the fright? Yes please, and thank you very much.
But the Ioniq 5 N isn’t a blunt instrument. It feels alert and finger-tippy – and weirdly mechanical. It’s got the tactility to its controls, and the ebb and flow of responses from its powertrain and pedals that we know and love so well from combustion engine power.
The Ioniq 5 N isn’t a car that has simply been overhyped because of low expectations: it is, in every possible way, a true driver’s delight.
It really does have the same delicious, precision brutality that made Nissan’s ‘Godzilla’ a legend in its own lifetime, and the fact that it’s delivered in a plug-in family hatchback is, to my mind, only more reason to celebrate it. This is, without doubt, the extreme end of EV engineering capabilities. And it is flat-out remarkable.
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