Back in the gloomy days of Covid lockdowns, when most of our exposure to car company executives came courtesy of Skype or Zoom, we would occasionally be invited to fire up our laptops and join then Seat CEO Wayne Griffiths on a digitally imagined Spanish island to hear what he and his Cupra ‘rock stars’ had been working on lately.

There would be announcements about festival partnerships, tie-ups with fashion designers I’d never heard of and lots of chat about the metaverse.

The messaging could sometimes be a little hard to follow – not least because it seemed quite at odds with Cupra’s billing as, you know, a car manufacturer.

Here was a brand that started life as Seat’s sporting subdivision, then was hived off and quickly fleshed out with a line-up of generally decent warmed-up family cars – and which then started to present itself as a millennial-flavoured lifestyle brand-cum-fashion house.

It all felt like something of a distraction from its core products, which was frustrating because, by and large, they’re pretty good – and some of them don’t get the roaring public acclaim that they merit.

Take the top-rung Leon estate we have here, for example. Essentially a Volkswagen Golf R with a healthy injection of Catalonian charisma, it’s a four-wheel-drive, 328bhp fast family wagon with off-the-mark pace to rival the fastest BMW Z4, more boot space than a 5 Series Touring and a start price that undercuts even the most basic version of the Audi A5.

A compelling spread of attributes, you will no doubt agree. So why aren’t we all dancing in the streets in celebration of its very existence? Why is it not hailed in the same reverential tones as the Mazda MX-5 or Ford Fiesta ST?

More to the point: why doesn’t everyone have one? After all, we gave this car four and a half stars when we drove it a few months back, so we know it’s good. Check back in a few months and either I’ll have answers for those questions or I’ll still be trying to convince everyone I know to put down a deposit.

Let’s get down to it, then. Fresh from a chunky mid-life facelift, our Leon wears a sharp new front end with triangular light signatures that mark it out more obviously from the standard Seat on which it is based, together with a wraparound light bar at the rear (this is 2025, after all) and a smattering of new colour options and wheel designs.

More important are the upgrades to the EA888 turbocharged fourpot behind that beaky grille. The engine has been treated to a 22bhp uplift to give a spicy 328bhp, which in turn enables a 0-62mph time of just 4.8sec.

The interior, meanwhile, has been overhauled, with a focus on boosting material appeal and functionality: the touchscreen is up from 10in to 12.9in, there are more environmentally and vegan-friendly upholstery options and you can have a swish new 10-speaker Sennheiser sound system – although this mid-spec VZ2 car sadly manages without.

More important is that the Leon has followed VW Group stablemates the Golf R and Audi S3 in swapping its Haldex differential for a trick new torque splitter that can channel up to 100% of the rear axle drive to either the left wheel or the right, which tightens turn-in response and should mean more accessible dynamic engagement. Oh, and the touch slider for the climate control is now backlit, so you can use it safely at night – which is handy.

On paper, this is about as close as it gets to peak car from my personal standpoint: handsome, usefully capacious, generously appointed and stupidly quick when called upon – yet still just about subtle enough in its specification to fly under most radars.

Would that its 2.0-litre turbo lump had been treated to a spot of mild hybridisation to ease the pain at the petrol pumps, and I’d happily trade the meaty 19in alloys for a smaller, smoother-riding and less vulnerable alternative, but I suppose I can mitigate those concerns by swerving pub trips and potholes for the next few months.

Sure, there are far more potent wagons on offer, with more cylinders, quicker acceleration times and louder exhaust notes, but on a power-per-pound basis I think the Leon makes a fairly good case for itself. I also like that it’s still relatively understated in its design (leaving aside our car’s sinister satin paintwork), and that gives it a bit more Q-car appeal: more fool the smug Focus ST driver who lines up next to me at the lights.

If there’s one concern I’m trying not to let blight my experience at the wheel of this Barcelonian ’bahnstormer, it’s that the sizzling performance attributes do come somewhat at the expense of frugality. So far I’ve driven just over 400 miles.

Around 50% of those were on the motorway, 25% were taken up with suburban commuting and the last 25% was flat-out Sunday blast – and the trip computer is currently showing a paltry efficiency reading of 28.3mpg.

That’s about what I’d expect from a Porsche 718 Boxster or Toyota Supra under the same circumstances. A stark comparison, but then I don’t suppose I could get my parents’ lanky goldendoodle in the boot of either of those two, nor serve as bus driver for an upcoming lads’ weekend to the coast, or help my grandad clear out his old shed.

Hang on, do I want to do any of those things…? Ah well, at least the drive home afterwards will be a good laugh. ¡Vamos!

Update 2 

manufacturers spend millions on making sure their cars ride right: computer simulations, rough-road testing, Belgian pavé… Volvo’s even built an extremely realistic replica of a knackered British country lane at its Swedish test track, which tells you all you need to know about how our roads are perceived.

But I can’t work out why they need to bother at all. I’ve stumbled on an utterly foolproof test of rolling refinement that costs about £9.50, takes 34 minutes and exposed shortcomings in the Leon’s chassis.

You can thank my parents, who had invited too many people for lunch on Easter Sunday and texted me in a panic that morning asking me to bring some plates so nobody had to eat their macaroni cheese out of a hastily scrubbed dog’s bowl.

Thinking nothing of this mundane request, I gathered up a pile of my finest china (Waitrose, 2014 – stolen from my nan when I went to university) and plonked it on the Cupra’s back seat in a bag for life. Bad move.

Just a few hundred metres after setting off, the clinking, jangling racket from behind my left ear had become so irritating that I was frantically scanning the road ahead for somewhere to pull up and rearrange my load.

But when I eventually managed to stop, I wasn’t really sure what to do about it. Short of stuffing a cleaning cloth in the middle of the stack, I had nothing to hand to alleviate the clattering, and so it was that I endured an arduous half an hour of dodging potholes and speed bumps with the radio turned all the way up in an attempt to drown out the noise.

To make matters worse, I had two colossal containers of Lego in the boot – a forgotten hangover from the nail-biting build-off challenge we ran in the Christmas edition of Autocar – which were rattling away irritatingly out back like Bez at a Happy Mondays gig.

Call me dramatic if you will. Or call me an idiot, maybe, for not appropriately securing my cargo. But I do think it raised an interesting point about the compromises that are inherent to a more dynamically focused chassis set-up.

I’ve filled dozens of cars to bursting with untold amounts of otsam and jetsam in the past, and I find that if you’re smart with your packing, you can usually avoid any untoward aural accompaniment as you drive along.

I once moved my partner from Leeds to Basingstoke in a Peugeot 405 and didn’t hear a peep from the rear quarters for 200 miles – save for the painful twang at Watford Gap services when the handbrake cable snapped. But it seems the Cupra is simply too stiff of spring and slim of tyre sidewall to let you forget what you’re ferrying.

To be entirely fair, three metric tonnes of Lego and a leaning tower of crockery would make a din in any car, but the whole saga has shone a light on just how firmly the Leon rides around town.

Even with an empty boot and back seat, I’m now acutely aware of the juddering on poorly surfaced road and I’ve clocked a pretty severe thud from the front end if I approach the single-lane speed bumps that blight my commute too quickly.

The same is true of potholes, which at their most severe can feel like they’re going to bounce me out of my seat – though more disconcerting is the noise as those meaty, thinly wrapped alloys crash against the edge of the broken Tarmac.

No punctures or cracked rims yet, thank goodness, and I’m driving as cautiously as I possibly can to ensure it stays that way. It’s frustrating because the Leon is decently re ned at a high-speed cruise and impressively capable on a smooth, flowing B-road.

It’s just that you have to wince your way through the suburbs to get it out into its comfort zone. I’ll head there for the next update.

Update 3

I awoke early on Saturday in a cold sweat to the shuddering realisation that my last 1000 miles in our Cupra Leon had been all but entirely covered on the motorway.

No hardship – this is a comfortable and refined tourer – but hardly the point of a thrill-seeking four-wheel drive hot hatch.

So I leapt out of bed and headed for the hills. The Surrey Hills, to be precise. I’ve found a pretty engaging network of switchbacks around Dorking that tend to be nice and quiet if you get up before the Ranmore ramblers and all the cyclists, and not so atrociously surfaced as to dampen their appeal as a dawn-blast destination.

All right, it’s not the Transfăgărășan, but it’s more than sufficient to give the Leon a good run and probe its dynamic limits – with the added benefit that it’s twisty and narrow enough for you to give it the beans between bends and still stay on the right side of the law.

Best to remain cautious, though: this is a seriously quick car, needing just 4.8sec to haul itself from rest to 62mph, which is not far off a BMW M2.

It’s easy to forget that outrageous pace while trundling up the M40 or negotiating suburban rush-hour traffic, but flick it into full-bore Cupra mode (manual shifts, louder exhaust note, angry red screen graphics) and floor it off the mark and you will be rewarded with a surprisingly visceral and exciting accelerative experience that’s usually the preserve of much more exotic metal.

Don’t forget this thing has five doors and a boot big enough for a few Labradors, so there’s an element of incongruity to enjoy in its performance potential.

It’s pretty unapplicable dynamically too. Four-wheel drive means it rigidly holds traction off the line even on damp surfaces, and you can feel the trick torque-splitting rear differential working to tighten your line in fast, tight bends, which ultimately gives you the confidence to throw it in faster.

A common criticism of hot hatches based on the VW Group’s MQB platform over the years (Golfs GTI and R, Skoda Octavia vRS, Audi S3 etc) is that they tend to come up short on feel and driver reward, but I think the Cupra goes some way to redressing the balance, with steering that’s nicely weighted and highly communicative without feeding too much of the road’s imperfections back to you.

You can fiddle more intricately with the chassis and steering settings in the Individual drive mode, but I find the factory set-up perfectly agreeable for daily use and Cupra mode does what I’d do before hitting a fun-looking B-road in any case, so I’ve not been minded to extensively sample each of the 15 (!) damping settings.

However, I do quite enjoy flicking the exhaust into Pure mode, which turns off the artificial engine note enhancer and opens up the valves for maximum burble.

A touch antisocial but ne for special occasions. In short, it was one of the most engaging couple of hours I’ve had on the road for some time. And the best bit? It returned 33mpg on the more sensible drive home, whereupon I threw open the boot and loaded it up with tonnes of rubbish for the tip. What an all-rounder.

Final update

Too often, purpose-built ‘driver’s cars’ make too many sacrifices in pursuit of engagement and vivacity.

They will forgo a useful boot in favour of a shoebox-sized frunk, their high-output powerplants will be too noisy and thirsty to facilitate regular deployment, their uncompromising chassis will be all but unbearable on average UK roads and their low-volume enthusiast billing will usually be tied to a high five-figure price tag – or beyond.

But the Cupra Leon (specifically this exact form of Leon: 328bhp, estate, four-wheel drive) blends scintillating dynamics with genuine sports car pace while remaining a comfortable cruiser with a big back seat and a bigger boot. And it costs less than a base-spec BMW X3.

Perhaps the finest testament to the Leon’s all-round utility credentials is that I didn’t once shy away from using it for mind-numbing suburban commutes, Saturday-morning B&Q runs or long-distance trips to the in-laws.

Despite its angry styling, burbling exhaust, figure-hugging seats and dazzling 0-62mph time (it’s quicker than a Ferrari F355, if you can excuse the tenuous comparison), this top-drawer hot wagon never felt too frenzied or uncomfortable in everyday environments.

It was easy to settle in for a big ol’ motorway schlep, with the sports exhaust fading into the background once up to speed and the front seats comfortable enough for a couple of hours – and beyond – without stopping.

Cruising economy wasn’t bad either: if I found an interesting podcast and could stomach a monotonous couple of hundred miles on cruise control at 70mph, the MPG readout would nudge the mid-30s – although I’d usually be so stupefied by the time I got off the motorway that I’d undo all those savings by about the third corner.

So too was it commendably easy to drive at lower speeds. On my commute to the office, a maddening 12-mile mission during which I usually average 13mph, I found the Leon to be no less relaxing or manoeuvrable than the common or garden Volkswagen Golf on which it’s based.

The steering is light, the turning circle is fine, the DSG dual-clutch gearbox is smooth with sensible ratios and the seating position is nicely judged.

Special mention goes to the infotainment interface. It’s not an area in which we often heap praise, especially not those from the Volkswagen Group stable, but this facelifted Leon is the recipient of a new-generation system that is leaps and bounds ahead of its predecessor in terms of ease of use.

The menus are clearly laid out, my iPhone connected to CarPlay automatically every time I got in the car and it was extremely easy to turn off the most annoying elements of the ADAS suite. Plus, the necessary functions got their own physical controls – and all the switches and buttons clicked and clacked with a pleasing sense of durability and quality.

It’s not perfect, naturally, so I must temper my thus far unrelenting praise of this surprisingly uncompromised sports car with… some fairly glaring but inevitable compromises.

The first is the most obvious: the trade-off for its impressive poise and agility is a secondary ride that at times verges on aggravatingly firm. I rarely noticed it on faster-moving, flowing roads, but speed bumps and potholes at lower speeds would send a disconcertingly violent judder through the front end – to the extent that several times I actually pulled over to check for busted rubber.

That firmness was exaggerated by the standard- t 19in wheels, which I would have traded for smoother-riding and less showy smaller rims in a heartbeat – not least because I wouldn’t have been awfully stressed every time I got near to a high kerb.

Also, fair warning: irrespective of drive mode, that exhaust is particularly vocal on a cold start, as I found out when leaving my sleepy, tightly packed cul-de-sac at 4am one crisp March morning.

But all of this is to overlook the Leon’s star quality: its sense of fun and charisma. Golf-based performance cars are traditionally fast, athletic and very competent but lacking that final tenth of tactility; just a hint too inert and clinical to wholly steal your heart.

But this most fiery of Leons is a resounding – and reassuring – anomaly, with its distinct dynamic character, stop-and-stare styling and hilarious turn of pace making it both engaging to drive and easy to love.

Not many cars get me up at 6am on a Sunday, but the prospect of razzing around my local country lanes with the gearbox in manual mode and the exhaust turned all the way up (yes, I know it’s synthesised, but it sounds just like a rally-honed five-pot) was only too inviting.

The car comes alive on a smooth, twisting back road, with its pin-sharp steering and rigidly controlled body inspiring confidence to really press on in corners.

The supporting act in all of this is the trick rear torque splitter, which gives a tangible sense of being pulled sure-footedly around an apex.

After that, the engine’s explosive firepower makes short work of the straights as the Leon squats down on its two driven axles and hurtles unflinchingly towards the vanishing point – but not in the sometimes intimidating or unmanageable manner of some pure-bred sporting options.

Then, when you’ve burned through half a tank of fuel and fancy giving the tyres a rest, you can slip it back into Comfort mode, relax your grip on the microfibre wheel and head home to load up the boot with a shed’s worth of garden waste for the tip.

Cupra Leon Estate 333PS 4Drive VZ specification

Prices: List price new £48,110 List price now £47,260 Price as tested £49,105 Options: Magnetic Tech Grey metallic paint £695

Fuel consumption and range: Claimed economy 34mpg Fuel tank 55 litres Test average 29.6mpg Test best 33.7mpgmpg Test worst 24.6mpg Real-world range 358 miles

Tech highlights: 0-62mph 4.8sec Top speed 155mph Engine 4 cyls in line, 1998cc, turbo, petrol Max power 328bhp at 5600-6500rpm Max torque 310lb ft at 2100-5500rpm Transmission 7-spd dual-clutch auto, 4WD Boot capacity 620 litres Wheels 19in, alloy Tyres 215/45 R17, Hankook Ventus S1 Kerb weight 1651kg

Service and running costs: Contract hire rate £617.93 CO2 188g/km Service costs None Other costs None Fuel costs £483.08 Running costs inc fuel £483.08 Cost per mile 17 pence Faults None