From the December 1995 issue of Car and Driver.
It’s not the purple stripes that trigger the double takes. Not the purple competition seatbelts, either. It’s mostly the steering wheel on the right-hand side that elicits the gasps. Lord knows, this Subaru Impreza wagon’s squat, boxy shape otherwise attracts about as much attention as a Montana mongrel. Come to think of it, we began calling this rare model, officially dubbed the WRX, simply “Rex. What with its mail-delivery steering and zero airbags and a unique turbo’d 2.0‑liter engine, the WRX—a World Rally Championship homologation special—possesses no papers, no legal tags for operation in the United States. Subaru of America may soon resolve this issue, however. Here’s why: In Japan, where this vehicle is legally sold (hence the right-hand drive), the WRX accounts for 36 percent of all Impreza sales.
WRX Series.White Spices Up an Aging Rally Car
The usual optional engine in the Impreza is an SOHC 2.2-liter flat four producing 135 hp and a gritty boxer growl. The WRX makes mush of that statistic, crashing through the 100-hp-per-liter barrier. Under the WRX’s paper-thin aluminum hood (which shakes and wobbles like a Winston Cup car’s) and lurking under a Hulk Hogan hood scoop that feeds an intercooler, there is nestled a 2.0-liter aluminum flat four treated to 10.6 pounds of boost. This arrangement is good for 217 hp at 6000 rpm, pouring out in a broad, flat, nearly seamless and eerily quiet rush to all four wheels. Indeed, the little turbo’s kick is subtle. You feel some urgency at 4000 rpm, but otherwise you’ll have to be told that this isn’t a naturally aspirated engine. Of course, when you clobber 0-to‑60 mph in 6.6 seconds (3.6 seconds quicker than the last Impreza wagon we tested), you pretty well know that some sleight of hand is afoot. Play out the WRX on its Wonderdog leash and it chews up the quarter-mile in 15.1 seconds at 90 mph—a terrier’s hair better than a naturally aspirated Nissan 300ZX.
JEFFREY G. RUSSELLCar and Driver
Top speed of 135 mph might have been greater were it not for the wind’s view of an Impreza wagon, which is very similar to the wind’s view of a Serbian bunker.
As it happens, Rex is even more remarkable at eliminating wind. From 70 mph, we’ve observed stock Imprezas arrest all forward motion in 182 feet, but the WRX manages this same trick in an astounding 163 feet. It crabs to a halt with its ABS pounding and the tires scrabbling in a dance that tech director Frank Markus describes as “bordering on violence.” Who cares? An Acura NSX can’t stop this short.
The Krazy Glue grip is attributable to 10.9-inch front rotors, squat 205/55VR-15 Bridgestone Expedias, twin-piston calipers, a larger brake booster, and possibly 300 pounds of that gooey pine resin that Kirby Puckett slathers on his bats.
Speaking of resin, skidpad grip rises from the stock wagon’s mundane 0.75 g to a stout 0.84 g, thanks to stiffer springs and dampers, trick alloy lower control arms in the front, new sway bars, and the aforementioned tires. Body roll is virtually eliminated at the expense of ride. If you’ve been trying to lose weight, expect to be reminded of your failure as each road pimple imposes belly-flesh jiggles.
Pushed hard on pavement, the WRX predictably understeers and goes all wormy at the nose. Pushed hard on gravel, however, the WRX reverts to its glorious rally roots. The driver begins to sound like a pitcher: “See this next hill? I’m hurlin ‘ it in there hard, low and inside, a full-heat sinker.” When the WRX is on the marbles, the driver feels nearly no wheel slip, as tractive force is doled out flawlessly to whichever tire is most adept at accepting it. The result? You innocently dial up some truly horrifying speeds and ask your passenger: “Jeez, aren’t those pine trees zipping past awfully fast? And close?”
JEFFREY G. RUSSELLCar and Driver
This is as nimble a 2964-pound car as you will find this side of a Limbaugh-laden Miata, although the WRX (and possibly Rush, too) is almost 300 pounds flabbier than the standard Impreza wagon. Much of that thigh cheese can be blamed on the automatic transmission, expensively lifted from the Japanese domestic-version SVX. At the heart of this device is a rally-proven viscous limited-slip differential. During normal driving, torque is apportioned in a 50/50 ratio but can quickly skew to as much as 35/65, depending on how deeply into the dust you’ve dipped in your personal drive-home rendition of the Acropolis Rally.
Under full throttle, the transmission cracks off gear changes at an ambitious 6700 rpm. These are rifle-shot, blink-of-the-eye shifts that are, at the same time, surprisingly smooth. Downshifts are equally impressive. Punch the throttle at a 60-mph cruise and you instantaneously summon-sans lurch-not only a lower gear but also 5400 rpm on the tach, thigh-deep in the flat four’s sweet spot. Very satisfying.
The only drawback is that this transmission binds and crabs and moans during tight turns and parking maneuvers—a noise from Rex we dubbed “park and bark.” It reminds you regularly in the WalMart lot that a snapped intermediate shaft to the center diff’s first sun gear translates to a potentially ugly dialogue with an incredulous loan officer.
Many pieces on this car are definitely not attached to your Uncle Seth’s Impreza. The purple four-point Schroth competition belts, for example, which look cool but are tedious to buckle and clash badly with flowered Hawaiian shirts. The competition seats are a happier revelation: perfectly contoured, with truly aggressive shoulder bolsters. Then there are the unique PIAA driving lights/foglamps. Illuminated to max yellow brightness, they stain the adjacent countryside until you’ll swear you’re driving through a vat of Vemors. Rex the Wonderdog would do much to enhance the blue-rinse persona of Subaru’ s Impreza lineup here, never mind that only nine Americans have ever heard of the World Rally Championship or the WRX’s heady place in the WRC firmament. All of this model ‘s hard bits-brakes, turbo, suspension, transmission-already repose in the Subaru parts bin.
Of course, there are some automotive riddles to which a rally-prepped Subaru Impreza is not the answer, and no amount of taped-on purple shelf paper stripes will overcome the trauma engendered by a $33,172 sticker. (Did we mention that Rex’s transmission is, ah, dear? Did we mention what happened when American buyers faced a $30K Subaru called the SVX?) Nonetheless, if the question is, “What’s the fastest way to deliver your Victoria’s Secret catalog mid-blizzard?” the answer may well be this ingratiating little mongrel. We’ll gladly assist with the adoption papers.
Source: Reviews - aranddriver.com
