the Clubbie is hot stuff and gives buyers plenty of bang for their buck. Photo Gallery
Biffing through a sunburned summer landscape in a big, boofy Australian muscle car is to feel like a native son; a bloke's bloke.
The jaundiced might view HSV's Clubsport R8 as quintessentially 'Strayan as seafood at Christmas, inviting a mate along on your honeymoon, or claiming a catch off an Indian batsman's pad.
A bit retrograde. A boganmobile.
If you're a little more wide-eyed, the Clubbie is a blissful manifestation of roaring power in aspirational yet affordable form. It's the performance sedan that a Commodore owner is meant to covet — going up to the Clubbie, as it were.
It's also true that a Commodore owner might be dismayed by its too close a resemblance to that most utilitarian device. Against that — heavily against it — is the glaring fact that the Clubsport can be sensibly spoken of as an uber-cheap AMG, at least in terms of its chief purpose in life.
That'd be getting across the landscape with contemptuous, apparently effortless speed.
Those ferocious Mercs are the only bent-eight sedans of similar size able to dispatch the HSV in a straight-line run from standing to 100km/h.
The official time for the latter, with the six-speed automatic we guiltily enjoyed over the standard manual, is five seconds flat. The extra 0.4 second (using claimed figures) the HSV takes over an E63 AMG saves some $160,000. And some testers reckon the margin narrower still. Hmm ...
So if there really is a conundrum about the Clubsport R8, it didn't bother us past the first few hours of an acquaintance that became a fast friendship (or as fast as you'll allow yourself at a time when the road is lousy with revenue collectors armed with radar guns). Given the truly staggering go-for-the-dough equation, you begin not to mind that the interior, despite very pleasant and generous leather-trimmed seats, ain't so very far departed from the stripper Commodore.
Outward visibility is not great — the sloping A-pillar is bollard-like, the wing mirrors are compact by contemporary standards and the rear spoiler might have been borrowed from a light aircraft.
The built-to-a-budget impression isn't dispelled by doors that don't thunk, window buttons that have to be held down to raise the pane and plastics that fail to inspire confidence as to the long term. Gratingly — given that the petrol gauge needle does seem perennially pointed south — a 'low-fuel' read-out cancels the digital speedo until the tank's thirst is slaked.
Given the licence-threatening readiness with which the Clubbie responds, and the difficulty of reading the conventional speed gauge with its unevenly spaced numerals, the digital jobbie is of the essence.
As to the exterior statement, if the SS-V is a working-class man, the R8's a light-blue-collar worker.
The VE Series HSV has 301 different parts to the VE Commodore.
Not sure that you could call that body kit, spoiler and artificial side vents stylish per se, but at least the HSV doesn't shop at Lowes.
Whadd'ya want, anyway? Pose, or poise under pressure?
The Clubbie has the latter in spades, with extra power and torque wrung out of the 6.0-litre LS2 V8.
The 307kW at 6000rpm and 550Nm at 4400rpm are a slight but gratifying boost over the $11K cheaper SS-V.
If the lurid power sliding of which the Clubbie would be abundantly capable isn't really on through the Royal National Park, the way this long and heavy jigger tracks around corners is readily appreciated.
Some might find that the level, fat, steering wheel wants somewhat.
I think it's right on the money.
Turn in is precise, body roll is restrained if not contained, the stance flatter than expected.
Taut suspension and big fat 19-inch wheels hold where a lesser Lion's grip would slip. Busting out of the bend, the tail can twitch, prompting a gentle but decisive electronic correction.
The guardians have been set just about perfectly you'd have to say, smiling benevolently at a boy while he plays, but stepping in firmly before it all ends in tears.
Downshifting through the manual mode — configured correctly forward for downshift — is welcome and if the Holden's transmission isn't so slick as Ford's ZF, it'd have to be close.
Crucially (given that it weighs in at two big blokes under two tonnes), the stoppers are huge (365mm up front and 350mm at the rear all with quad piston callipers) and their power prodigious. The superior feel and bite over the SS — and the priceless peace of mind they bring — is alone worth the price of admission from VE to E-Series. Simulated emergency stops on very B-grade roads from more than 100km/h brought it up hard and true. The price for the enhanced performance is cheap indeed — mild skittering over the sort of irregularities that wouldn't perturb a Commodore.
The firm yet compliant ride is the perfect example of how Australian tuners do it best for Australian roads, even on the nightmare tracks of NSW.
While you might only seldom have the opportunity to push its performance envelope, the Clubbie is a wonderfully comfortable everyday proposition. After all, a bloke needs to relax from time to time.
The bottom line
This one is a hell of a lot more than a glorified Commodore.
Snapshot
HSV Clubsport R8
Price: $64,890 (auto)
Engine: 6L/V8, 307kW/550Nm
Economy: 15.3L/100km
0-100KM/H: 5.0 sec (claimed)
The rivals
FPV Force6
Price: $71,590
Engine: 4L/6-cylinder turbo; 270kW/550Nm
Economy: 13L/100km
0-100KM/H: 5.4 seconds
Holden Commodore SS-V
Price: $54,490
Engine: 6.0L/V8; 270kW/530Nm
Economy: 14.3L/100km
0-100KM/H: 5.7 seconds
Mercedes-Benz E500
Price: $160,300
Engine: 5.5L/V8; 285kW/530Nm
Economy: 13.6L/100km
0-100KM/H: 5.5 seconds
