Harnessed to a six-speed manual gearbox, the Volvo’s 182bhp five-cylinder diesel pulls with stout enthusiasm, even if it displays a bit of old-school grumble and clatter.
Apart from a little low-rev lethargy off the line it’s a torquey performer, and this, coupled with a light gearchange, makes the V70 a pleasantly effortless car to stroke along.
The D5 will sprint to 60mph in a brisk 8.9sec, while the 5.6sec it needs to shift from 30 to 50mph in fourth is a solid effort. Unladen, this car feels surprisingly zestful for one so big. But it also sounds unmistakably like an oil-burner; the growl, clatter and hum might be subdued but they’re there, leaving this engine a long way behind the refinement of a BMW diesel.
This mild crudeness is further betrayed by the pulsing clutch pedal that you’ll feel if you rest a foot on it at idle. But the good news is that at motorway speeds the engine issues no more than a distant hum.
It also stops very effectively, but the pedal could do with more bite. Distinctly less clever is the new electronic handbrake, whose location on the right-hand lower half of the dashboard is too distant, and whose button is too small. It should be on the centre console, and the absence of a hill holder on manual V70s turns hill starts into a real test.
Much of the time the V70’s ride is impressively pliant, and on the verge of displaying that loping absorbency that was once the speciality of French cars.
It doesn’t quite have that suppleness, though, and at times body control could be tighter, but overall this is a restful place to be. Until, that is, the wheels pass over a particularly scabby piece of tarmac and thump out a crude drumbeat that shatters the calm.
The V70 can be hustled along testing country lanes with some verve, but you’d hardly call it a precision instrument.
