The French are known for many things. For some, it’s their wine. Others, it’s the architecture. A few, their innate tendency to run from conflict. But we can all agree on a couple of things: French food is divine, and French cars are crap.

From time immemorial, we’d heard stories of French cars exploding all on their own, like all the little components in the engine had unilaterally decided to hold a strike. Build quality was always a complaint, and the cost of replacement parts were always heinous. They were glorious when they worked, these French cars. But they were usually busy falling apart. Peugeot was no exception to this, of course. Sure, they made interesting cars at one point (the 205GTi springs immediately to mind), and they have tried more recently to be more fun and exciting, but failed miserably (an RCZ, anyone?). But in more recent history, Peugeots have always been like a bag of damp laundry: Completely, and utterly woeful.

So you can imagine my confusion when the new 308THP began to woo fellow motoring journalists in Europe. For heavens sake, I thought to myself. They’ve come over all Euro-union. But as the awards rolled in, first for the design of the interior no less, I began to see some sense. On paper, it certainly made a sound logical argument.

And then it won ‘Car of the Year.’ I was gob smacked.

Naturally, receiving the keys for the 308THP for a weekend stint left me with mixed feelings. I’ll hate it. Having spent a considerable amount of time with the previous-generation 308, I was expecting horror. A hideous interior, awful quality, and a drive that was about as exciting as a brain aneurism. The Peugeot tried its best to quell my fears, first with its expression. Gone is the Joan Rivers-esque ‘perpetually surprised’ face, replaced with something more… aggressive, and purposeful. The sharp LED headlights sprung to life on my approach, goading me to explore further.

A walk around the car revealed beautiful 18” ‘Sapphire’ wheels, and a squat stance. The rear, set off with Peugeot’s new ‘three-claw’ rear light design, looked absolutely stunning. Great, so it’s a looker. I bet the interior will be built like a shed.

Nope.

First, the 308 greets you by what I think are the most beautiful seats on this side of a Lamborghini. Looking more like art than seating, and trimmed in leather and alcantara, they make for great pews to settle into as you take in the ‘i-Cockpit’ around you. The 9” central touchscreen performs most tasks, including climate control and vehicle settings. Very fancy. The small instruments laid ahead of the driver make for a very focused feel, with two chrome-lined cowls sitting either side of a central colour screen. Like its little brother the 208, you’ll probably find the steering wheel in the way of the instruments, but that’s alright. Set it a little lower, and you’re good to go. At the time of writing, I’m still undecided about the steering wheel. This writer would’ve preferred something meatier, and sized less like a saucer, and more a saucepan.

Ooh, a central power button. I immediately envisioned a child’s jammy fingers turning off the car on a motorway. Pushing those thoughts aside, I began a 2hr journey to Manjung, Perak. Nothing quite like trial by fire to sort cars out. The big alloys caused a little bit of scuttling over smaller surface imperfections, but they coped surprisingly well on our pockmarked roads.

Out on the North-South Expressway, I managed to stretch the cars legs a little. Hitting highway speeds, I set the cruise control at 110km/h and let it settle. As a car pulled out in front of me, I reached to disengage the cruise control, when the car began to slow down. The smaller screen between the binnacles reported that the car had ‘adjusted’ the speed to match the car ahead. Adaptive cruise control? On a C-segment hatchback? I flashed the car out of my way, and the 308 went back to its set speed. When another car pulled out ahead of me, this time with a much smaller gap, the car started barking at me. ‘BRAKE’ it said, on the same screen, a buzzer blaring. And when it decided I wasn’t doing an adequate job, it slammed on the anchors for me.

Aside from being surprised, I was thoroughly impressed.

Pulling off at Gopeng, I found the connecting road between the highway and Manjung without much fuss. Waze was called upon to keep me headed in the right direction, as the 308 lacked satellite navigation. On the backroads, the French darling showed another side of her personality. On the highway, it was composed and refined. On the B-roads, it displayed an incredible amount of grip and handling prowess. The steering felt direct and accurate, while I enjoyed a great amount of ‘feel’ through the seat of my pants, aided no doubt by those amazingly sculpted seats.

It was much the same story as I drove home. I savoured every sweeping curve as much as I did sharp corners, and I appreciated the 308’s refined manners on the motorway. Despite my spirited driving, the trip computer never reported a figure above 8.6l/100km. Very respectable, considering that half the trip was on winding B-roads with waits at traffic lights, and the other half was at constant highway speed, with the occasional overtaking maneuver.

By the time I got home and looked at the brochure, I’d made up my mind. This is an expensive car. It’s a good expensive car. And for the figure I had in my head, it was inexcusable that it didn’t have proper electric front seats, and satellite navigation. So imagine my surprise when I saw that it was, on the road, less than RM135,000.

It isn’t often that motoring journalists are surprised. When we see certain marques, we know what to expect. I picked up the new 308THP with a great amount of prejudice, expecting it to be as dreadful and nauseating as the last 308. But having spent well-over 500km in the drivers’ seat, I can report that my opinion was pleasantly changed.

Welcome back from the dead, Peugeot. You’ve been sorely missed.