Without wishing to seem unduly abrasive about this, I would suggest that the world pretty much divides between people who agree that the Audi A4 is king of the saloons and people who have no taste. The A4 is a large, relatively expensive German luxury item and is therefore, under all but the most forgiving analyses, vulgar as hell. But it carries its vulgarity lightly, without waving a metaphorical wedge of £20 notes in the air, in the manner of most Mercedes, and without seeming to be stolen, in the manner of all BMWs. It is a triumph for style and snobbery alike.
As with all Audis, A4s are also built so solidly that each one now emerging from the factory will probably outlive petrol and still be fully functional when we are all humming around in battery-operated pods or sitting at home in corrugated huts and grunting at each other, depending on how you see the future panning out. This makes an A4 a good long-term investment - even though it doesn't really have to be, since most people in the market for a new A4 will be trading up every two years or so, or getting their company to do so on their behalf.
Compared with the model of two generations ago, the new car seems to have gained weight - but muscle, rather than flab. The doors on an Audi always close with a reassuringly expensive clunk, but they seem even more gratifyingly thick and solid on the new A4. The old angular boot has now been entirely smoothed over, losing the car's one concession to flash and making it appear still more lordly. Inside, further elements on the dashboard appear to have been backlit in the customary red, ensuring that the car lights up like Hong Kong by night. Best of all, the A4 comes with a multi-CD changer which allows you to post all six CDs through the single slot in the dashboard while in the driving seat. What this does away with is the traditional boot-loading drama, which requires you to rack the CDs in something worryingly reminiscent of an eight-track cartridge and then climb into the trunk of your car with it. It's amazing this routine ever caught on.
I drove a two-litre A4, suitable for the withering of most other road users. It was fitted with a Multitronic gearbox, which Audi is very excited about and which means that the car functions as an automatic, but has a simulated manual override. For anyone with even a mildly competitive nature, these dual-function gearboxes typically lay down a challenge. The challenge is: can you drive this car better than this car can drive itself?
And I have to report that, in my case, no I could not. In every head-to-head confrontation between me and the car, the Audi whupped my sorry ass. In order to do battle, you have to shift the gear stick from Drive to Multitronic, which always looks easy enough on programmes such as Thunderbirds, but, while travelling at speed through a busy motorway intersection, can actually be fraught with its own anxieties. If this is a nervy moment, it's because it seems to have something in common with the action of throwing a fast-moving car into reverse and thus imaginably causing the engine to eject through the bonnet and the remains of the car to land in a field five miles to the rear.
However, trust me: when you move the gearstick across into the Multitronic bay, absolutely nothing changes. By rights, the on-board computer should flash a message from the gearbox on to the screen on the dashboard, saying something like, "Fancy yourself, do you, big boy?" or "Listen, sonny: leave the gear changes to someone who actually knows", but this doesn't happen.
Instead, you are now free to match the gear to the speed of the car, by tapping the gearstick in the direction of the plus or minus symbols. And if you're me, you will soon have the rev counter peaking wildly and the engine howling with derision. At which point you will push the gearstick back to Drive and admit defeat.
The fact is, every time I tried to stick my oar in, the automatic gearbox revealed itself to be doing a largely unimprovable job. Better, I reckoned, to sit back and let it get on with it. I'm sure David Coulthard, for instance, could skilfully use the Multitronic to find a little extra push for an over-taking manoeuvre, or to slow the car down smoothly on a steep gradient. But I would still argue against the system on the grounds that it goes against what is surely the founding principle of automatic cars - namely, laziness.
The whole point of owning an automatic is to indulge in one-hand, one-foot driving, preferably from the ergonomically unsound slouching position modelled by fat cops in American television shows, and hopefully with the stereo up too loud. Bolting a simulated manual option on to an automatic is like serving a conscience-saving side order of beans and pulses with a plate of fish and chips.
Better, with the A4, to go fully automatic. There are few nicer places to slob around.
