Interior

Inside though, for me, it is not quite so engrossing.

I always find it harder to get ‘set’ in any Commodore. It takes me ages to get the seat right and the steering wheel in a position where I stop fiddling with it. Perhaps it’s the stumpy legs; dunno, but it’s not a problem I have with the FG.

I find Commodores ‘enveloping’ generally, as though every time I open the door the car swallows me. And I have the same trouble with the HSV. I stuffed around with the four-way electric driver’s seat for three days before I’d found the ‘just right, for chrissake brother leave it alone’ driving position.

That’s not to say the unique R8 sports seats aren’t great, they are. The front pews are huge, heavily bolstered and trimmed beautifully in quality leather. And they keep you really well located when giving things a belt. It’s like planting your arse in a pitcher’s glove.

But – and it’s a personal thing, you’ll probably disagree – there is something ergonomically which doesn’t quite work for these arms and legs.

And the steering wheel is just too fat-rimmed. No-one likes a skinny rim, but swinging on the Clubby’s wheel is like holding onto a tyre. (Just back off the padding a bit there HSV.)

There are no complaints however with the quality of materials, the nicely-crafted and understated design of the wide dash, and the fit and finish. I’m no Carla Zampatti (ok, or whoever), but I reckon I know a good stitch from a bad one, and the leather and stitchery in the Clubsport is as good (maybe better) as you’ll find.

And there are other natty touches like the HSV instruments, the dash top auxiliary three-gauge cluster and the metal trim highlights. It’s a very well thought-out and well put-together interior.

There is one other thing about this car, and others of our locally-built warriors: you know that it can take a life of rough roads without shaking itself to bits. And in ten years, with 250,000 kilometres or so under the belt, it will still be running strong and the dashboard won’t have fallen into your lap.

It’s got all the geeky stuff too - six disc in-dash CD player (MP3 compatible), 150W Blaupunkt stereo, speed-dependent volume control, Bluetooth connectivity, auto-mute when phone is in use, 6.5″ multi-function LCD screen, and, rounding off a long list of luxuries, dual zone electronic climate control.

So the R8 is no ‘stripped-out’ racer; it’s more now the executive express. But one that goes very, very hard.

On the road

Funny thing is, my first hour or so with the Clubby had me wondering what the fuss was about.

Sure, it’s a beaut drive, but poking through traffic it just felt too tame for a 6.2 litre. Perfect for the daily commute and with a mountain of torque available from not much over tick-over, the big bruiser just seemed a little too ‘cruisy’.

We had the auto – the 6L80 E six-speed unit with ‘Tiptronic’. I’m not much of a wrap for autos, but for tapping the prodigious reserves of power and torque available this one has a party piece. It works like this: drop it into sport mode, sink the Blundstones and hang on.

The LS3 will fairly belt its way around the tacho to its 6200rpm redline. It feels for a moment like the gates of hell have been opened before it changes up a cog and wallops you again.

If you use a heavy foot, both kick-down and up-shifts can be pretty abrupt; it’s not something you want to do mid-corner. (The ZF in the FPV feels and works better.)

If using the tiptronic, it will hold selected gears without up-shifting, right to the rev limiter. With the LS3 howling fit to wake the dead, it is one heck of an act and why people love the Clubby.

(A six-speed manual, of course, is also available.)

That LS3 howl? What a sound. Where once Ford had the wet-your-pants Windsor V8 sonorous bellow sown up, Holden has now stolen the mantle. Above 4000rpm, the LS3 just sounds fabulous; punching through to 6000rpm, it makes your knees tremble.

On the road, when seriously hunting the bends, the R8 also takes the cigar over the FPV. Open the bonnet and you’ll see one reason why. That Chev all-alloy pushrod V8 is stuck right down there somewhere, snug as a bug in the engine bay. The Ford OHC V8, on the other hand, is almost leaping out of the bonnet - as if it’s trying to squeeze itself out.

The result is a lower centre of gravity for the HSV, and, when working with that well-tuned (if unsophisticated) strut front end, the HSV sits noticeably flatter when running hard into corners and powering out.

By comparison, and though running a far more sophisticated (and expensive) double wishbone set-up, having that Ford V8 sitting high in the engine bay gives the GT a bit of a lead-tipped arrow feel.

In the HSV, initial turn-in is now as good as its blue-oval competitor, but holding it through the apex and barreling out, the HSV feels flat, composed and fast. Best of all (for performance drivers), the ESC is not too much in your face when exploring its potential.

You will discover, if you didn’t already know, that for a huge lard-arsy thing, my God it hammers.