For about twelve glorious seconds, the Audi SQ8 felt like a proper hoon machine.
We’d found a dusty, forgotten patch of tarmac behind the glass towers of BKC (because this is what automotive journalists do with expensive cars that don’t belong to us), switched traction control fully off (always a responsible decision), and provoked this 2.2-tonne luxury SUV into doing something it absolutely shouldn’t be able to do: drift.
Sharp flick of the wheel, decisive boot of the throttle, and the rear end stepped out. For one beautiful, suspended moment, this thing rotated with shocking enthusiasm, the V8 rumbling its approval, tyres scrabbling for grip, and me grinning like an absolute idiot behind the wheel. Then physics remembered that 2.2 tonnes doesn’t drift so much as it rotates briefly, before the quattro system reminds you that you’re behaving like a child.
Here’s the thing: it worked. This massive, ostensibly sensible SUV actually let me get it sideways in a car park, hold the slide long enough for me to feel like a hero, then gathered everything back up before I could embarrass myself. Which raises an interesting question: what exactly is the Audi SQ8, and why does it exist in this peculiar middle ground between sensible and silly?
Let’s address the elephant in the room: the 2.2-tonne SUV that looks almost exactly like a regular Q8. The SQ8’s greatest strength — its understated appearance — is also a significant weakness. There’s no massive wing, no gaping air intakes, no fluorescent brake calipers screaming, ‘I cost a lot of money!’ Instead, it’s muscular in a tailored suit kind of way. rather than a gym bro kind of way.
This is great if you enjoy absolutely destroying most things in a straight line, while looking like you’re commuting to a board meeting. But you’re paying serious money, and non-car people will just think ‘nice Q8.’ The squared-off quad exhaust tips are your only real tell, and most won’t look. They’ll just see another Audi SUV in BKC.
Underneath its bonnet lives a 4-litre twin-turbo V8, making around 507 bhp and 78.51 kgm of torque. Audi’s legendary quattro all wheel drive ensures all this power reaches the ground, rather than just spinning the wheels and creating expensive smoke. The result? Zero to 100 kph in just under 4 seconds.
But here’s where it gets slightly frustrating: the V8 sounds good, but not great. Work it harder, and there’s a pleasant bass-heavy rumble and a refined metallic wail near the redline. It’s impressive, but neutered. Where AMG gives you thunder and zero regard for your neighbours’ sleep schedules, the SQ8 gives you a V8 that’s been to finishing school. You can’t help feeling Audi left some character on the table in pursuit of sophistication.
After our car park heroics, navigating actual Mumbai traffic made the SQ8’s size and weight very known. BKC’s service lanes and general driving chaos are constant reminders that you’re piloting something massive. The four-wheel steering genuinely makes low-speed manoeuvring less painful, but you’re still threading a heavy SUV through gaps designed for Maruti Altos. Pedestrians don’t care that you’re driving an expensive Audi. Auto rickshaw drivers cut you off with the confidence of people who have nothing to lose. Parking attendants
look at the SQ8, look at the space, and direct you to ‘park somewhere else, sir.’ Unlike the brochure photos of sweeping Alpine passes, you’ll spend significant time crawling at 15 kph, questioning if a smaller car would have been smarter. (The answer is yes, obviously, but we’re not here to be sensible.)
Then we hit the Coastal Road, and everything clicked. With Mumbai’s newest driving artery opening up ahead, there was finally space to explore what this thing can do. Switch into Dynamic mode, and the transformation is immediate. The air suspension firms up. Throttle mapping becomes sharper. The exhaust opens wider. The car tenses like an athlete at the starting blocks. Press the accelerator, and the SQ8 responds with a viscerally satisfying surge. It accelerates like a freight train, pinning you to the seat as the eight-speed gearbox snaps off
surgical upshifts.
By the time you glance at the speedometer, you’re well past anything sensible (I’m praying Audi doesn’t send us speed challans). The quattro system lays down every pony without drama, the suspension keeps everything flat through sweepers, and you finally understand Audi’s vision.
The cabin is where Audi typically excels, and the SQ8 doesn’t disappoint — mostly. Audi’s triple screen setup dominates: a 10.1-inch infotainment display, an 8.6-inch climate control screen, and a crisp digital cluster. It looks fantastic when clean — modern, minimal, and premium. But every single touch leaves a fingerprint. Within a week, these screens look like a crime scene. You’re stuck looking at your own greasy prints because you can’t wipe them while driving. Worse, almost everything is buried in these screens. Adjusting climate control requires menu dives. Sometimes there’s lag, and you just want a physical button to twist. (The war on physical buttons was a mistake.)
That said, materials are top tier. There’s soft leather, real metal accents, and a reassuring solidity to the switches. Seating is supportive without being aggressive, featuring heating and ventilation (if you survive the touchscreen treasure hunt). The optional Bang & Olufsen sound system makes Mumbai’s honking chaos feel a world away.
Despite being blisteringly fast, the SQ8 is remarkably easy to live with. The boot is a cavernous 600+ litres. The second row accommodates two six-foot adults in genuine comfort. Even on Mumbai’s cratered roads, Comfort mode keeps everything composed. The powered rear sun blinds glide into their hidden flaps with the precision of a Swiss watch.
In said Comfort mode, the car completely transforms. The air suspension smooths imperfections, the exhaust retreats to a distant hum, and the cabin becomes serene. You feel like you’re gliding in a luxury cruiser that just happens to have 507 bhp. This duality is its genuine superpower.
Right. Let’s talk fuel economy. The official figures are optimistic; the real-world figures are comical. This 4-litre twin-turbo V8 drinks fuel with admirable enthusiasm, and without apparent concern for long-term consequences. You will visit petrol pumps so often that attendants will start asking about your family. If you’re genuinely concerned about fuel costs, though, you’re shopping in the wrong category. You’re buying this because you want a V8 soundtrack in something practical. Still, budget accordingly.
Push hard into a Coastal Road sweeper, and the adaptive air suspension and active anti-roll bars keep this behemoth planted in a way that defies physics and common sense. You absolutely feel the 2,200 kilograms, but it’s managed so well that it rarely becomes a liability. The rear-biased quattro system allows just enough rotation to keep you involved, the four wheel steering adds stability, and the brakes haul everything down with a firm,
progressive pedal feel.
The performance is remarkably accessible. The car flatters you and makes you feel like a hero. But let’s be honest: despite that glorious car park drift, this isn’t a playful car. The quattro system lets you hang the tail out briefly before politely but firmly intervening. It’s brilliant at what it does, but what it does is ‘controlled performance’ rather than ‘hooligan machine.’
Who exactly is the SQ8 for? If you want family comfort, get the standard Q8 for less. If you want a track-focussed monster, the RS Q8 exists. The SQ8 is the sensible choice when you realize that what you want (RS Q8) and what you can live with daily are different things. Is it perfect? No. The screens are fingerprint magnets, the V8 could be louder, the size is a liability in traffic, and the fuel economy is comical. But it is remarkably capable, genuinely practical, surprisingly fun when conditions allow, and comfortable enough for daily use. After several hours behind the wheel, I’ve concluded: I’d probably still buy the RS Q8 if I had unlimited money and no regard for my spine or passengers. But the SQ8 is the one I could actually live with daily, without my chiropractor getting rich. And sometimes, being the sensible choice that’s still properly quick is exactly enough.
