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On my first visit to Ruf's terracotta-tiled workshop in Pfaffenhausen, I was greeted by a half-dressed Porsche 550 Spyder being loaded with one of the company's 4.1-litre Mezger engines. The technicians, in forest green overalls, said it was a silly and possibly dangerous idea, but the client insisted, and deep down these men were happy to oblige. That machine is out there somewhere, terrifying people with 900bhp per tonne.

In an adjacent bay was an original Yellowbird, casually. I remember Rafael Riethmüller, a warm and fastidious test engineer, saying something along the lines of "imagine doing 212mph when a Mk2 Golf GTI was a fast car", from his wheelchair. Riethmüller is a paraplegic who races an E46 BMW M3 with hand controls, owns a W221 Mercedes S65 and can rattle off the camber settings of any Ruf, although he now commutes to Affalterbach to work on AMGs. His love of the 1987 Yellowbird will be undimmed.

At the back of the workshop floor was a 993-era convertible 911, restored and customised for a scion of the Piëch family, who planned to give the car to his girlfriend on her birthday. How the other half live, eh? In a side room is an ancient dyno that BMW sold to Ruf in the 1980s. It can take only 550lb ft, which is why BMW and the 1.5-litre turbocharged monster it developed for Formula 1 had no use for it. Ruf uses it for the old engines, a great many of which it still makes and reconditions today with total authenticity.

The light-filled workshop, punctuated with dollops of prime colour, has a Kodachrome warmth and richness about it. It is neat but also littered with finished flat sixes on pallets, shelves of differentials, lathes and tools everywhere, with the smell of paint infusing the comforting, dominant oil aroma. Cars are suspended off the workshop floor on slick jacks, almost displayed like artworks, which feels appropriate.

It's a homely atmosphere, which is an unforgettable anachronism in a world of car factories in which carrier robots shuffle along in silence and assembly line workers reach for and fit colour-coded components under pressure of an unrelenting takt time. There you won't see a coffee mug perched on a stickered toolbox or a faded, inappropriate calendar on the wall - and you certainly won't see potted plants.

Neither will you see Stefan Roser, star of the 1989 promotional film Faszination auf dem Nürburgring at the wheel of an original Yellowbird, sauntering through, as I did on that first visit. If the existence of this short film is news to you, pop the kettle on and get to YouTube - you won't regret it.

By far the best thing about the Ruf workshop, though, is that it isn't a museum. Even the CTR Anniversary and its naturally aspirated SCR sibling - monocoque supercars both - are built there. It is a busy place. So busy with service and restoration, in fact, that Ruf won't thank me for suggesting you try to pin down a visit. But do so and it will be among the most memorable petrolhead excursions you ever make.

The SUV continues to top sales charts as Britain's most popular car class, but few of these are able to offer the go-anywhere ability of a proper off-roader. 

Despite their raised ride heights and typically chunky styling, SUVs are more at home in a town centre than fording a river. If you really want to adventure into the wilderness, an off-roader is the only machine that will take you there. 

Off-roaders are designed from the very outset to tackle rough terrain and would have no trouble taking on the green lanes of the Strata Florida.

And while most of the off-road market features square-set 4x4s with an array of go-anywhere modes, you can also have a rugged pick-up truck, jacked-up estate or even an electric 4x4 with oodles of torque. 

We think the Land Rover Defender Octa is the most capable off-roader you can buy today. This pseudo-rally car is a hoon to drive on loose gravel, but thanks to its adjustable ride height and clever terrain response, it can crawl and climb over just about anything.  

But which other off-roaders should you buy, how much should you spend, and is it worth buying something more rugged and analogue over a high-tech luxury offering? 

Whatever your off-roading wants or needs, there's something in our top 10 topography-tamers that should suit your requirements and budget.

No driver enjoys a fuel crisis, least of all those of us who cover big mileage or have lengthy commutes. The extra pennies per litre add up and bite hard.

That's true even if, like me, you drive one of the most economical cars on the market. So I thought it a particularly prudent time to see just how economical Toyota Prius that I've been running can be in everyday use.

I start on a fuel station forecourt, where I brim the Prius's 40-litre tank from near-empty and it costs me just over £60. (Last month it was £45.) For that you get 467 miles, the car tells me. Remember that number, because it will be important later.

Next, I head to the public chargers and top up the plug-in hybrid's 13.6kWh battery for around £7 (at 48p per kWh), which nets me 35-40 miles of real-world range. Of course, it would be much cheaper to charge at home, via a three-pin domestic socket or a 7kW wallbox.

The plan now is to drive until the car's two energy sources are drained. I have a few journeys to do over the coming days, starting with a commute to work (roughly a 140-mile round trip), a drive to Gatwick airport (200 miles or so) and then on to Hereford (around 260 miles).

But this won't be a sitting-behind-a-lorry, uber-MPG test like Matt Prior recently did in his Audi A2. Instead, I'm not going to change my driving style at all and the only thing I've really done to prepare is to pump up the tyres. If things go as expected, I'll need to fill up on my way to Hereford.

Another strand to this test is to discover what the Prius is like on a long journey. I've only had the car for a few weeks so this will be the most I've driven it to date, and on the widest variety of roads.

I don't have to wait long before I start finding out. Early on in the test, as I approach Four Marks on the A31, I begin to feel what Toyota has tweaked as part of its efforts to reposition the saloon from a taxi rank regular to a PCP shortlister: there's a whiff of potency.

Previously, the car's 2.0-litre petrol four and electric motor have paired together in a polite, no-frills way, working well especially at motorway cruising speeds. But as I hit some winding dual carriageways, I remember that they combine for 223bhp and a 0-62mph time of 6.8sec, which is quite sprightly. So I put my foot down – and it's quite a laugh, especially with that small steering wheel and low-set seat. Suddenly, I recall chief sub-editor Kris Culmer's short review when he handed back the keys after a go recently: "A Prius shouldn't feel that quick."

Given the way I'm driving the car, this test seems bound for an early end – and I'm on the M4 near Swindon when the 'you have 30 miles left' alert message appears. However, any doubters can hold their sniggering because this is on my way back from Hereford, some 500 miles since I filled up. I'm actually quite staggered. The on-board computer reads 62.4mpg and reveals that 39% of my total mileage since refilling has been done on electric power. I ran out of external charge 460 miles ago, so this has been via brake and engine regen, which is mightily impressive.

In total, it has cost 13p per mile, which is a revelation during a period of heavily inflated pump prices. And that number would have been even less if I'd charged the Prius via a cheaper home dock.

On the surface, the Prius might seem like a dull thing – a viewpoint many have been eager to share with me – and there are more exciting rivals (the Volkswagen Golf GTE and Honda Prelude to name two). But the Toyota's aero-centric design and clever underpinnings deliver something that honestly boggles the mind. I'm starting to really admire this car. It's an impressive machine.