The Audi RS3 (8Y): A Rally Car in a Business Suit

I’m only just getting started with writing these articles, and they are, at the end of the day, just my opinions based on my own experience and research. So, let’s dive into this one—the car sitting on my driveway: my very own 2021 Audi RS3 (8Y).

I bought this car in late 2023, and it’s a late 2021 model—one of just 96 Launch Edition cars that made their way to the UK. What does that mean? Well, it means it came with nearly every box ticked—adaptive suspension, sports exhaust, sunroof, leather interior, and a set of 19-inch alloys which are dressed in the most unusual tyre size that makes finding tyres as difficult as getting a 911 S/T allocation. Most importantly, it’s painted in Kemora Grey, which to the untrained eye looks suspiciously like Nardo Grey, a colour that Audi has been spamming across its range for the past decade.

Now, the latest RS3 has been referred to as a “hyper hatch” by some journalists, a term seemingly devised to differentiate it from the now nearly extinct “hot hatch”. What’s next? Mega hatch? Ultra hatch? Unbelievably bonkers hatch? While I wouldn’t personally use that term, I can see why they do. Anything pushing 400 bhp in a hatchback body likely qualifies. That puts it up against the likes of the Mercedes A45 AMG, although please, don’t get me started on that one—it's got so many fake noises coming out of the exhaust it may as well be a sound system with wheels.

But what makes the RS3 special, what really makes it the proper hooligan it is, is the engine. Sitting under the bonnet is a 2.5L turbocharged 5-cylinder—an engine so brilliant and so rare that it’s almost a relic. Of course, thanks to the wretched killjoys in Brussels and their particulate filters, it doesn’t sound quite as operatic as it once did, but it still has that unmistakable offbeat warble that reminds you of Audi’s rallying heyday. Honestly, if you don’t grin like a fool every time you put your foot down, then I’m afraid you might, actually, be dead inside.

Of course, power is nothing without control, and the RS3 comes equipped with a four-wheel-drive system that is usually front-wheel biased but can throw up to 50% of power to the rear when needed. And, in the spirit of marketing gimmicks, it also features something called ‘Torque Rear’ mode, which can supposedly send 100% of that rearward power to just one wheel, allowing for a bit of tail-happy hooliganism. In theory, this means the RS3 can drift, but in reality, I live in the UK, where the roads are either damp, wet, or littered with speed cameras. So, let’s just say I won’t be testing this claim anytime soon unless I fancy a long chat with my insurance company.

The RS3 serves as my (almost) daily driver, and I’ve clocked over 6,000 miles in it so far. The reality of driving in London means that 80% of my time is spent crawling in traffic or trundling along at 20 mph—basically the same pace as a pensioner on a Saturday morning grocery run. But here’s the thing: the RS3 doesn’t moan about it. It doesn’t overheat, it doesn’t jerk around, it doesn’t feel like an angry caged animal desperate to break free. Instead, it just gets on with it, waiting patiently for its moment of glory. And when that moment arrives—when you finally find a bit of open road, flick it into Performance mode, and bury the throttle—it feels like you’ve unleashed a small explosion under the bonnet.

Now, fuel economy. Ah yes, the grim reality. In the city, it’s usually in the teens, and on a spirited drive, I may as well be burning money straight out of my wallet. But let’s be honest—nobody buys an RS3 with MPG in mind. You buy it because you want to go very fast and make some noise while doing so. And in that respect, it delivers.

So, what about when you actually put your foot down? Well, within the constraints of national speed limits (of course), I’ve found the RS3’s handling to be surprisingly capable. Engage Performance mode, and it tightens up—steering weight increases, the suspension firms up, and suddenly, you feel properly connected to the road. Even the usual Audi understeer has been tamed significantly, to the point where Micha, that well-known YouTuber who spends most of his life flying around a certain German track, hasn’t been complaining about it. The brakes are phenomenal, the engine wakes up, and you even start hearing that 5-cylinder growl more prominently—though some of that may be coming through the speakers. But I don’t care. It sounds fantastic.

Ultimately, the RS3 has always been an attainable dream car for me, and so far, it hasn’t disappointed. It’s fast, practical, and makes every drive feel a bit more special, even if most of those drives involve sitting in traffic behind a Prius doing 18 in a 30. It’s the sort of car that reminds you why you love driving, even when modern traffic laws, endless roadworks, and eco-brigades seem determined to make sure you don’t.

It’s not perfect—nothing is. It’s thirsty, it’s not the last word in handling finesse, and on certain roads, it can feel a bit firm. But when you finally get the chance to stretch its legs, none of that matters. The moment that 5-cylinder engine clears its throat and bellows its war cry, you forget the fuel bills, the potholes, and the fact that you’re crawling home behind a van that has no business being in the right-hand lane.

The RS3 is a car I always wanted, and now that I have it, I just can’t imagine what I’d replace it with. Here’s to hoping it continues to serve me well in the years to come—because if Audi ditches the five-cylinder in the next generation, well… we riot.