I have never been an electric vehicle person. Not in a performative, “I hate the future” way — more in a deeply aesthetic, almost romantic one. Electric cars always felt too futuristic, too sterile, too polite. Plastic shapes pretending to be machines. Toys that wanted to be taken seriously. And when your daily car is a Jaguar XJS V12 — a vehicle that smells like fuel, metal, and questionable decisions — your relationship with cars is not rational. It is emotional. Almost physical.

I like cars that make a statement. Cars that demand attention without asking for permission. Cars that feel like an extension of character, not an accessory to a lifestyle deck. That is why, until recently, there was exactly one electric vehicle I respected: the Porsche Taycan. Not because it is electric — but because it looks like a proper Porsche. A car that says, “Yes, I chose this. And yes, I know exactly why.”

But then cycling happened.

Not the casual, Sunday-morning kind — the obsessive, life-restructuring, bike-goes-everywhere-with-me kind. The kind that turns your car into a support vehicle, a storage unit, a mobile basecamp. And suddenly, beauty alone isn’t enough. Taycan is stunning, but it isn't built for the everyday logistics of a cyclist’s life. Roof mounts are stressful. Rear mounts are awkward. And no one who truly loves their bike enjoys watching it vibrate at 120 km/h above their head.

So when the opportunity came to test the Porsche Macan Turbo — now fully electric, curiosity beat skepticism. I didn’t want to like it. But I needed to understand it.

The real test didn’t happen on a showroom floor. It happened during my 310 km ride challenge, where the Macan Turbo played the role of support car — and did it flawlessly. Bike, wheels, tools, nutrition, extra kits, bags, everything fitted without compromise. No Tetris, no gymnastics, no existential dread before closing the trunk.

This matters more than most car reviews admit. Because for people who actually use their cars — not just commute in them — practicality isn’t a downgrade. It is freedom.

And yet, practicality alone doesn’t earn forgiveness. This is a Porsche. If it isn’t sharp, impudent, and slightly unhinged when provoked, it isn't worth discussing.

Here is the thing I care about most: how it drives.

My theory was simple — and unforgiving. If you are going to wear a Porsche badge, you don’t get excuses. I don’t care what powers you. You don’t get to be soft.

Switching from Normal to Sport Plus is where the Macan Turbo reveals itself. The sensitivity sharpens. The steering tightens. The car responds to movements you didn’t even realise you made. 0–100 km/h in 3.3 seconds isn’t a party trick — it is a physical sensation that rearranges your internal organs slightly.

It grips the asphalt, slices through traffic, and behaves with a level of composure that makes you forget its size. Yes, Sport Plus drains the battery faster — physics hasn’t been cancelled — but let’s be honest: with the density of speed cameras in the UAE, this mode is for deliberate moments of joy, not daily commutes.

And that is fine. Because a good car doesn’t need to scream all the time. It just needs to be capable when asked.

Let’s talk about the thing everyone asks first: the battery.

This was my first real BEV experience, and I was nervous in the way only skeptics are nervous — not about range on paper, but about real life. Traffic. Air conditioning. Music at irresponsible volume. Heated seats paired with aggressively cold AC (a combination that, if you haven’t tried it, tells me everything I need to know about you).

The result? Three full days of driving around Dubai. Then a spontaneous trip to Abu Dhabi for museums (yes, go see Picasso: La Figure at Louvre Abu Dhabi — it is excellent). Back again. Only then did the battery dip to around 15%.

That isn't a theoretical range. That is a live range.

And the infrastructure? In the UAE, it is a non-issue. Chargers at petrol stations, museum parking lots, city parking, even free public spots in places like Downtown Boulevard. The mental load of “where will I charge?” simply never appeared — which, psychologically, is half the battle with EV adoption.

I have always respected Porsche interiors for one reason: they trust the driver.

No unnecessary cinema screens. No glossy plastic pretending to be luxury. No interfaces that want to entertain you instead of letting you drive. The Macan Turbo continues that philosophy. Everything is where it should be. Everything works. Nothing competes for your attention.

The exterior, however, does the opposite — and unapologetically so. Compliments came from unexpected places: cycling track parking lots, strangers walking by, people who don’t usually notice cars. The colour. The rims. The stance.

This is a car designed to be noticed — not loudly, but confidently. And I will admit it: I like when my car is admired. I treat my vehicles the way some people treat children. Praise is welcome.

Here is the psychological truth we rarely say out loud: we don’t buy cars because we need them. We buy them because they resolve internal conflicts.

Consumer psychology has shown repeatedly that premium purchases are rarely about utility alone. They are about identity alignment, emotional coherence, and reducing cognitive dissonance between who we are and how we move through the world. In simpler terms: we want our choices to make sense emotionally, not just logically.

The Macan Turbo does something clever here. It doesn’t ask you to abandon desire in the name of sustainability. It lets you keep both. You can choose a more responsible drivetrain without feeling like you have traded pleasure for virtue. That balance — not guilt — is what actually changes behaviour.

The Porsche Macan Turbo is the best daily SUV I have driven with a genuine sport soul hiding just beneath your right foot. It is practical without being boring. Electric without being apologetic. And, most importantly, it doesn’t ask you to become a different person to like it.

If you are a cyclist, it makes even more sense. You already chose the most sustainable way to move your body. Wanting to be fast, sharp, and slightly indulgent on the road doesn’t cancel that out. Because let’s be honest, you are pushing that bike of your to the limits chasing the watts.

Sometimes progress isn’t about resistance. Sometimes it is about finding something that fits — without asking you to betray yourself.