My destination was a quaint wedding out in the most English
sounding of English places – Chipping Norton.

I say English in the traditional sense of polite conversation, ye olde pubs, blossom-laden apple trees encircled by spring bunnies.

That was until I roared through at mach II with my afterburners glowing like those of a Top Gun stunt double, banking left and right
through the countryside.

It's a good job I didn't have my very own Goose tailing me otherwise I fear it would be well and truly cooked.

That aforementioned blossom is now on the pavement and I swear I saw a rabbit with its paws to its ears when it saw me coming.

As for the polite conversation, I suspect it quickly turned to rantings and ravings about the monstrosity I had bought to Chipping Snore-ton.

This was one big blue rude awakening for middle England.

Make no mistake, it looks evil. Gone are those ill-thought out boggle-eyed headlampsand in are a spread wing grille and hawkeyed headlamps.

The allusion to a bird of prey is no coincidence - it's a true road-going predator.

Then there's the trademark bonnet vent which sucks up cool air to help the intercooler do its job.

The traditional STi spoiler sits atop the boot but an additional spoiler now perches above the rear windscreen to further assist
with keeping this rally sired beast glued to the asphalt.

All in all it looks like something I remember scrawling in my jotter when I was 12-years-old as my teacher pointed to dodecahedrons on a blackboard using a garden cane, or something.

And let me tell you, that 281bhp four cylinder 2.5-litre high pressure turbocharged boxer engine was more of a science lesson than any tweed-wearing physics boffin ever gave me as a boy.

0–60mph is dealt with in five seconds. Flat out you'll be doing almost 160mph.

For anyone not lucky enough to have felt that sensation I can only tell you it's simultaneously scary, exhilarating, funny and heartwarming.

Coupled with the manic burble of the signature tune of the boxer flat-four powerplant, it is an experience that, for the first time, is akin to your first kiss, your first legal beer or buying your first house.

But for all this blood and thunder, Subaru has taken its big seller by the scruff of the neck and hauled it into some counselling sessions.

By which I mean the shrinks with spanners at Subaru have tweaked the
gearbox and the torque delivery to help make the car usable every day.

Longer gear ratios towards the top of the box mean motorway runs feel more comfortable, despite a quicker 0-60mph acceleration time than its predecessor.

That brings with it better fuel economy. Not good fuel economy – just better.

You have to understand that this is a thoroughbred rally car. It is built to be strong – unbreakable in fact.

As a result it is taught and firm. Even sharp cornering isn't enough to make it flap.

The only thing that starts to give is your ribcage as the bucket seats cling on to stop you flying onto the parcel shelf.

The only quibble I would have is with the quality of the stalks and switches. Even more surprising considering the interior of its
bigger brother, the Tribeca, is winning industry awards.

My next ambition is to get one of these things onto the track so I can find its limits.

To even begin to look for them on a public highway is tantamount to disregard for human life – yours and every other road users'.

What's even more frightening is that next week I will be driving Subaru's RB320 – an Impreza with 40bhp more than this one and
you know what, I can't wait.

There's something primeval about being top of the roadgoing food chain and while the STi is a leopard – the RB320 looks like a
lion – crossed with a cheetah.