Internal Kongbustion

WHAT if I said that there is a brand new, rear-wheel drive executive sports saloon packing 370hp?

 

My friend’s left eyebrow hiked itself up a millimetre. His interest was piqued.

What if I added that this sparkling new contender has the aesthetic pedigree of Audi, and that its reflexes were honed at the Nurburgring by talent hailing from the highest echelon of BMW’s hallowed M division?

My friend’s eyes were properly wide now.

What if I continued, pausing here for emphasis, that one of the automotive industry’s biggest players had thrown all its might behind this project?

By now, he was all but properly drooling.

All that, for less than threequarters of what BMW will fleece you for a 440i M Sport.

“Tell me! Tell me now! Wherefore dost thou tease me! Whence came this magical beast of steel and glass?!”

Why, tell you I will. It’s the Kia Stinger GT. “Cheh, dowan,” said my friend. Perception is a funny thing.

No doubt, Kia foresaw this response, and it is the primary reason why the 3.3-litre Stinger costs a fraction of the price charged by its German competition.

It is one thing to make a good product, but it is another, amazingly difficult thing to convince people of it. It is why we writers still have jobs.

Just ask Kia. It has been a long, arduous road from the 1990s, when their cars were barraged by jokes only now firmly aimed away and across the South China Sea.