It’s time to buckle up and take a joyride with me, Richard Hammond, into the world where practicality dons a stylish frock and goes dancing. I’m talking, of course, about the Skoda Kodiaq vRS – a car that’s more Czech mate than checkered flag, yet still pokes fun at the notion of a family SUV without the rush.
Picture this: a 7-seater behemoth that looks like it’s been fed on a strict diet of other, less fortunate cars, standing bold at the school gates or looming in the supermarket car park. The Kodiaq vRS, with its striking grille, sporty bumpers, and 20-inch alloy wheels, looks like the kind of vehicle that gets up in the morning, drinks engine oil for breakfast and brushes its teeth with diesel.
Under the bonnet, there’s a bi-turbo diesel that promises 240 horsepower, rushing from 0 to 62 mph faster than you can say “But is it a proper vRS?” And indeed, with a 7-speed DSG gearbox and 4×4 grip to throw it through corners, the Kodiaq makes a good case for itself; it’s almost as eager to sprint as a greyhound who’s just spotted a bunny at the end of the track. But let’s not forget, this is a family SUV we’re dealing with – it’s as sensible as a pair of slippers, just with a hidden wild side.
The interior is a rather nice place to be. It’s all leathery and sporty, with vRS logos reminding you that you didn’t buy the standard edition – oh no, you’re cooler than that. You get digital dials that change faster than the British weather and seats that hug you tighter than your Grandma at Christmas.
When it comes to driving, the Kodiaq vRS disguises its size like a magician with a particularly spacious top hat. It’s got poise and balance, and despite being able to carry seven people, it doesn’t wallow around bends like an overfed hippo in a mud pool. The ride is firm, giving you feedback with every bump and turn, without shaking your fillings loose.
So, what’s the verdict on this Czech chariot? The Skoda Kodiaq vRS might not be the purest performance SUV out there, but it’s got the character of a hot hatch, the practicality of a rolling conference room, and the looks of a sculpted athlete. It’s a car for the family man or woman who wants to nod respectfully to their wild side, without waking the baby. And honestly, when you’re behind that wheel, feeling the diesel surge as you overtake a tractor on a country lane, you don’t just feel like a responsible parent – you feel like the reigning monarch of the road, scepter in hand and crown firmly on head.