Volvo have always done it for me somehow, at least the big ones. Their poker-faced squareness, the earnestness, the practicality, the "Take me home, mother ship" seats, it all works. I liked the fact that they weren't ever great to drive - when you've got the Labrador, the wife, the 1.5 kids and the makings of a picket fence in the vast load bay (it had to be an estate, of course), why would you want to fling it around? My favourite was the square, masculine 850, but I also had a soft spot for the S80 saloon. It was a vast old barge, ugly in a handsome sort of way, and amazingly comfortable, as long as you didn't expect it to light your fire around hairpins. No estate, but OK. Oh, and Jaap Stam had one during his time at Man U - so it was cool.
Naturally, I was a bit taken aback when the new one came up - in press photographs, it looked fussy, it looked small, it looked not right. And there were whispers that Volvo, with parent company Ford, had made it better to drive.
Why? Swedish roads are perfectly boring, and the reindeer don't get turned on by a spot of opposite-Iock, so what was the point? Did they really want to take on the German giants? Right. Well, good luck, Bjorn.
The thing is, though, the thing is ... they’re actually bloody close. This version, the 3.2-litre, six-cylinder S80, is really quite endearing. Can it beat the Germans, in this case the class-topping BMW 525d? No, of course not. But it comes unexpectedly close, so a secret Volvo fan won't feel he's settled for a half-bake if he indulges himself and buys one over a Mercedes-Benz or BMW.
First, you'd buy it just for the looks. I apologise for having called it fussy earlier; in the flesh, it's unbelievably pretty. It's muscular, yet svelte, with long, classic proportions and flowing lines instead of post-modern slashes - and that long nose! See it peeking round a corner and you're smitten. It takes doing to make a car look good in white, but this needs no effort at all. Even the detailing, though not as spectacular as in an LED-wearing Audi, is nice. The squiggly tail-lamps, the wolf-eye headlamps, all quietly, understatedly, perfect.
And does it drive! We found a sinuous road just off the Mumbai "Nasik highway, and somewhat sceptically, I let loose. And was totally astonished. The ride was nowhere near perfect, neither truly absorbent nor stiffly controlled, and I'd expected it to galumph a bit, shriek like a goosed spinster, and head straight for the cliffs, but no. It really held, cornered not quite flat but without undue roll, and was fresh and ready for the next apex.
And this is all to the backbeat of the 238bhp V6, which although not as stirring as the range topping V8 is still a keen, snarling thing, making you want to slam down again and again. The transmission, though, could do with a cup of coffee, I'm thinking. The five-speed Geartronic auto is kinda lazy in its normal mode, yawning each time you ask it to kick down, but bung it into sequential-shift mode and it comes alive. It's quick now, responsive and sharp, the only downside being that you have to take your left hand off the slightly light steering to manage that. The Volvo, and even the BMW actually, could really do with paddle-shift. These, the BMW in particular, are supposed to be sports-luxury sedans, so why not? On an empty road that'd be the perfect finishing touch, but even on the awful, crowded, no-fun-at-all Mumbai-Nasik highway, they'd give you that extra measure of control.
Debu joins us just after nightfall in the 5-Series, looking relaxed. He's had a much easier time of it - and you can see why. It has presence, the BMW 5-Series, eh? See it loom up in your rearview mirror, four glowing rings topped by orange eyebrows, and you'll be in a hurry to get out of its way just in case it bites. I feel some sympathy for Volvo: the S80's been stared at by everyone on the way, but then it's a new shape - and the 5-Series, even though it's been around for some time, has received just as much attention. Maybe more. The sympathy is because Volvo's come out with a look that's subtle and at the same time enormously good looking, but for any Johnny-won-the-Iottery, the BMW's the way to get noticed.
We can't take the Beemer down the same empty road - it's too far behind us - but even driving it around Nasik city tells you why it's regarded as such a top driver's car. It does feel kind of cold and clinical, and some people object to that, but to me BMWs are meant to be faceless assassins soulless, efficient, dangerous machines - and this suits me perfectly. The steering feels heavy after the Volvo's, and communicative, and so wired to the road it tramlines every three seconds. The brakes are lovely too, but what really gets you is the phenomenal body control around a traffic circle at midnight: the car stays absolutely flat, absolutely planted. I'm getting my head snapped off every time I push it: we've taken the 525d, the 3.0-litre diesel version as the pick of the range, and it pulls like an overexcited ox. It's coarser than I'd expected, especially at low revs, but its response and sheer grunt are amazing. The 'box is rapid too, even without tip-shift mode (which is weird to use at first, because flicking the selector up means you go down a gear), and lets you keep both hands on the helm. And power goes to the correct wheels, which always sits well in the mind. I'm thinking of flicking the traction control off, but there isn't time. The photographer beckons.
Still, all the hanging around gives me a chance to check out the cabins. And here, the Volvo really stumbles. The interior is a big, big mess. I'm sorry, but whatever else Volvo feels it wants to be, it still has to centre around the human user. First of all, there are zillions of buttons - which makes you appreciate the idea behind BMW's I Drive.
Second, the buttons have been moved around at random. What's wrong with keeping the fuel-lid and boot release tabs down by the driver's seat? It works, so why turn them into little buttons next to the already too-small and hard-to-locate lighting controls? Why do I have to dislocate my shoulder trying to find the lumbar-support knob, and then skin my knuckles using the damn thing, which is located between the seat had the armrest, in a half-inch gap? And someone explain this: the wing mirrors fold by themselves each time you lock the car from the outside, but if you need to fold them while driving, to avoid a truck, say, you don't have a clear button to do so. Instead, you find the buttons to select the left and right mirrors for adjustment - and press both at the same time. Why? And the back-less centre console looks nice, but the space behind is not very useful; instead of that, couldn't I have the nice, secure, accessible tray for my cell phone that isn't there at present?
There's isn't enough kit, either: no xenon’s, no power adjustment for the passenger seat (for which, by the way, the knob to adjust the seatback angle is even worse than the lumbar-support one), and no sat-nav, not even the amusingly useless one in the XC90, which was convinced we were in Sweden, and driving in the middle of the sea.
This cabin is pretty, certainly, especially at night when the dials look like they're being bathed in moonlight, but for forty-something lakh, I want buttons where I can find them.
The BMW feels instantly richer inside: there is something about wood inlays, however cliched they are. It's gimmicky - what's with the Deep Space Nine gear-selector? - but it does make you feel important. It feels like someone's gone to the future to steal design ideas, and however fussy it is, stuff like the I Drive, has infinite appeal for someone who wants to feel his Rs 42.4 lakh (ex-Mumbai) every minute he's in the car.
The Volvo claws back some ground when the two are standing alongside. I can't get over how pretty it is, and in dark alleys, under the sodium lights, you remember just what a good looking car the BMW isn't. It's imposing, but next to the Volvo in particular, the proportions seem wrong. The wheels on both are 17s, but on the BMW they look like black Polo mints, dwarfed by the sheer amount of metal, and the upright cabin with the not-very-elegant bonnet line is just ... ugh. And what's that boot doing sticking out at the back? Shouldn't it flow from the roofline?
What decision do you make? Drive around in the BMW (why is there never a hot woman waiting to be impressed when that happens?) and people will think, "Whoa! Rich guy!" Which, it appears, works for some. Drive the Volvo and people - but only people who know how good the car is - will think "Whoa! Good taste." I know which works for me, but the BMW is so polished a product that I can't criticise someone for buying it, even if it's a bit flash-git to me.
Would I take the Volvo, then? No, because at Rs 39 lakh, it doesn't do quite enough. It would work better as a V8 - more equipment, more muscle - or as a slower but more practical diesel.
Even then, though, I'd hesitate, and ultimately pick neither. That's because my appetite's been whetted by something else entirely. Damn that Michael Harvey...