FILTHY RICH

He’s got headphones in. And I’d spent all morning driving the Cayenne about in Sport mode. Mutually exclusive events that were about to cause a minor back road irritation. Unable to charge the Porsche’s battery last night, I’d used our morning charge (the other type of charge) around Winnats Pass and over the Snake Road to prepare our only hybrid for a friendly, unintimidating run along the pretty, popular-with-walkers, one-way-for-cars lane through Goyt Valley.

Fifty miles of charging had bought me four miles of charge. Is that good? Who knows? But I thought that this approach was not only conscientious, but also served as a useful reminder of what the Porsche Cayenne Turbo S E-Hybrid Coupe (and breathe…) is capable of that its internally combusted-only rivals aren’t.

However, this 8mph cyclist with his plugs in can’t hear this 2.5-tonne silent running SUV a respectful distance behind him. He carries on, admiring the scenery. Tooting would be rude, swerving or getting closer about as acceptable as my other potential solution – pulling over and letting the rowdy Urus have a run at him.

So I do the one thing I didn’t want to: switch back to Sport mode and let the hydrocarbons combust. The V8 rumbles into life and whether via sound waves, olfactory assault or road vibration, the message gets through. He pulls over and shoots me a dirty look. Well, I tried.