Car Reviews

Morgan changes slowly and usually not at all. The core structure of the just-retired Plus 4 was barely altered from the one used by the English sports-car maker’s first four-wheeled model, the 4/4 that was launched back in 1936. It wasn’t retro; it was just really old.
The new Plus Four looks identical at 10 paces yet is almost entirely different underneath. The old car’s less-than-rigid steel chassis is gone, replaced by a much stronger bonded aluminum structure. Gone too is the archaic combination of a sliding pillar front suspension and a leaf-sprung live axle at the back, with the new car getting control arms at each corner. Morgan has always been agnostic when it comes to engines, with the original Plus 4 launching in 1950 with a 68-hp Standard engine that was also used in Ferguson tractors. After numerous changes over the years, the Plus 4 ended production with a 154-hp 2.0-liter inline-four built by Ford. Now, in a single generational shift, the Plus Four brings a bigger power increase than the Plus 4 saw over seven decades in the form of a 255-hp BMW 2.0-liter turbo-four under its aluminum hood. That’s not too far off the (also BMW-powered) Aero 8 that debuted in the United States in 2004.

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Morgan

Morgan Plus Four Looks the Same, Is New Underneath

Morgan Plus Six Is a Window to the Past

The Plus Four’s barely changed looks from the original reflect the preferences of Morgan’s traditionally minded clientele. But the company also wants to restart sales of fully built cars in the U.S. under forthcoming replica-car legislation, which requires a car to be visually almost identical to one produced at least 25 years ago. Above the spiffy new chassis, the new car sticks with Morgan’s trademark combination of hand-formed aluminum bodywork over a wooden frame made from ash timber.
Despite looking as traditionally English as a thatched inn in the Cotswalds, the Plus Four delivers a very different driving experience than its predecessor. To demonstrate how much so, Morgan let us drive both the last Plus 4 and the new Plus Four back to back, which felt a little like comparing medieval medicine to modern surgery. The weakness of the old car’s structure and inexactitude of its suspension saw it shuddering like a wet dog over apparently smooth asphalt, while struggling to deliver even modest amounts of cornering grip. It had wooden-feeling brakes, unassisted steering that was both heavy and almost totally devoid of feedback, and a straitjacket cabin clearly designed to accommodate smaller, leaner 1950s people.

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Morgan

No surprise that the new Plus Four drives like a much more modern car, although a good deal of old-world charm also made the transition. The aluminum structure is far stiffer, though even Morgan can’t say by exactly how much. The company never recorded a torsional figure for the old car, so the official line is an improvement of “several hundred percent.” There is still some chattering from the Four’s trim over rough surfaces—the wooden frame is still described as “semi structural”—but the control-arm suspension is vastly superior at absorbing bumps and keeping the tires in proper contact with the road. It turns keenly, too, with its Avon summer tires finding plentiful grip and impressive traction, even when (this being England in the summer) it began to rain. Steering is less direct than it would be in a more focused sports car, but responses are still accurate enough to allow the Four to carry impressive speed down a twisty road.
It’s quick, too. Morgan’s minimalist ethos results in a claimed curb weight of just 2233 pounds “dry,” so the BMW engine faces a lighter burden here than it does in a Z4 sDrive30i. Morgan claims a 5.2-second zero-to-62-mph time with the standard six-speed manual transmission, which felt conservative after spending some time with the car. We didn’t drive a model with the optional eight-speed automatic, but Morgan says that one will knock the run to 62 mph down to 4.8 seconds.

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Morgan

While the new engine doesn’t lack performance, it isn’t the most charismatic unit. At low revs the whooshy induction system produces almost as much noise as the subdued exhaust. Under hard use it gets louder without becoming particularly harmonious. (The much older Ford powerplant in the Plus 4 had a rortier and more pleasing soundtrack.) Nor, it saddens us to say, is the manual gearbox a particularly fine example of this dying genre, with a light and resistance-free action, a high-biting clutch pedal, and ratios that feel too tall for a car that is never going to be a high-speed cruiser. (Second gear runs to about 80 mph.)
Yet, this matters little. Hard acceleration in the Plus Four is likely to be more of a novelty than a state of being, an occasion to excite a passenger or pass slower-moving traffic. The car’s natural pace is a gentle one. The low windshield and low-cut doors make faster progress feel uncomfortably breezy while also enhancing the sensation of speed as air and the road surface rush by. The engine’s abundant mid-range torque is particularly well suited to this sort of effortless progress. And there can be no current production car in the world with a better view forward than the Plus Four. The driver looks out over the triple wiper arms and louvered hood to the rounded fenders and headlights. Our test car rode on stylish 15-inch alloys, but wire wheels remain an option, with Morgan commissioning a new design capable of handling the turbocharged engine’s increased torque output.

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Morgan

The Plus Four’s cabin is more spacious than that of the Plus 4. For the first time in a Morgan, only the tallest drivers will have to push their seats fully rearward. But it is still obviously hand-built, as evinced by the presence of some obvious screw heads that affix the wooden dashboard. Instrumentation features centrally mounted circular dials for speed and engine revs with smaller gauges for fuel and engine temperature ahead of the steering wheel. Morgan is particularly proud of the digital display screen, although this is small and proved hard to read in direct sunlight.
Even when it didn’t have any new models to officially sell, Morgan never left the U.S. Some of its more ardent fans even shipped cars and engines separately to get around import restrictions. The brand still has a small network of dealers, and the 3-Wheeler continues to enjoy modest success in states that regard it as a motorcycle rather than a car. But the company hopes the new Plus Four and its brawnier Plus Six model will transform its fortunes and help sell up to 300 cars a year in the U.S. once they can officially be brought in as replicas. The driving experience has been updated, but the brand’s spirit of eccentricity remains undiminished.

Specifications

Specifications
2021 Morgan Plus Four
VEHICLE TYPE front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 2-passenger, 2-door convertible
BASE PRICE (C/D EST) $67,000
ENGINE TYPE turbocharged and intercooled DOHC 16-valve inline-4, 255 hp, 258 or 295 lb-ft
TRANSMISSIONS 6-speed manual, 8-speed automatic
DIMENSIONSLength: 150.8 inWidth: 65.0 inHeight: 49.2 inCurb weight (C/D est): 2400 lb
PERFORMANCE (C/D EST) 60 mph: 4.3–4.7 sec100 mph: 12.2–12.6 sec1/4 mile: 12.5–12.9 secTop speed (mfr’s claim): 149 mph
EPA FUEL ECONOMY (C/D EST) Combined/city/highway: 30/27/35 mpg

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From the May 1984 issue of Car and Driver.This is a test. Five automobiles—what we believe to be the cream of the American crop in terms of handling prowess—will engage in pitched battle. Twenty tires will be shredded for the greater good. Fenders will rub together on a racetrack, sphincters will pucker, felt-tipped pens will scratch heartfelt comments into logbooks. Names will be named.

We Compare the Pony Cars of 1993

Tested: Five-Way 1990 Sports Car Shootout

Camaro ZL1 1LE vs. Challenger SRT vs. Shelby GT500

A blizzard of accelerometer plots and test-execution speeds will ensue. All things considered, this is the most comprehensive investigation of automobile handling we’ve ever conducted, but we’re not about to confuse the results with side issues. You will find no zero-to-sixty times on these pages. Top speed is irrelevant here.
Power-to-weight ratio has only a limited influence on handling, so we have bent over backward to minimize its impact on the test results. Prices have been included to feed your fantasies, but since we’re not talking “handling per dollar,” value is not a factor. The bottom line is, quite simply, the best-handling American-made car.
Although we’re confident that our battery of ten objective tests will disclose useful evidence, no combination of track results can tell you which car is best on the road. Traffic-cone courses are crude approximations of real-world situations. Skidpad adhesion reveals something about roadholding, but roadholding is not handling.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

Since we intend to find out everything that does count about handling, we will use the only known, sure-fire tools to help us make our final judgments: five automobiles, two challenging stretches of mountain highway, and six carefully calibrated pants seats.
Our best-handling equation will be a simple tally of votes culled from six well-seasoned journalists of the road. Whereas the ballot includes a whole matrix of subjective categories—everything that affects handling, from comfort to directional stability—only one column will reveal The Answer. Our best-handling bottom line will come from its own distinct vote; no mystery math applies.
Reading ahead is not allowed. We encourage you to follow our flow chart for best results. Start with the vital-statistics box, where you’ll find notes on the participants. We’ve got new cars, old crocks, a front-driver, a mid-engined machine, and three “classic” front-engine, rear-drive designs, all of which won a berth here by virtue of their past performance.
Since we’re plowing fresh ground, watch out for land mines. A vintage myth or two may blow up in your face. (Bathroom-wall proverbs insist that mid-engine handling is indomitable!) Wend your way carefully through the test-track and racetrack trials, but don’t place a sucker bet on your favorite car too soon. The Answer will not be revealed prematurely.
The Test Track
Track testing allows a controlled exploration of a car’s behavior near and beyond its limits. Our regular skidpad and slalom tests quantify two of the most important handling characteristics: smooth-pavement grip and repetitive directional-changing ability. There are many other aspects to handling, however, so we designed several new tests in the hope of quantifying more of each car’s personality.
Rough-road adhesion is important because real-world pavement is rarely as smooth as a skidpad. To supplement our normal grip measurements (on a 300-foot-diameter smooth skidpad), we painted a separate circle on pavement littered with imperfections, ranging from washboard ripples to bumps large enough to launch the test cars momentarily into the air.
To no one’s surprise, our Z51-equipped Corvette generated the highest smooth-skidpad figure, 0.86 g. It also easily won the bumpy test at 0.82 g. Although it pounded like a rolling jackhammer in the process, the Corvette was controllable and kept, its rubber firmly planted on the pavement.
The Z28 Camaro felt far more at ease over the bumps, with the smoothest ride of the bunch; surprisingly enough, it didn’t swing its tail out much despite its solid rear axle. In the two skidpad tests, the Z28’s grip fell by the same increment as the Corvette’s, from 0.81 g on the smooth pad to 0.77 g on the rough one. The Pontiac Fiero achieved the same rough-pavement score, hardly worse than its 0.78-g smooth performance, but it did so with considerably more drama, hanging its tail out and pounding up through its suspension forcefully enough to rattle its plastic body panels. The Mustang SVO and the Dodge Daytona Turbo Z both circulated with more aplomb, but neither could equal the Fiero.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

In contrast to the skidpad’s steady cornering, a slalom test looks at transient maneuverability, rewarding controllable responsiveness more than pure grip. Here, we used a 900-foot arrangement: ten traffic cones spaced at 100-foot intervals. The Corvette and the Camaro tied for the fastest slalom speed at 60.9 mph, but their strengths and weaknesses were slightly different.
The Camaro had an ideal blend of sharp steering response, adhesion, and controllability. The Corvette could cut noticeably harder than the Camaro, but its front-rear balance was closer to neutral and it tended to hang its tail out more. Both Chevrolets could be driven in the tail-out mode, but we found that a tidy line was significantly quicker.
The three other cars tied at a considerably slower 58.2 mph through the cones. The Daytona’s staunch understeer made it easy to drive, but its front tires scrubbed too much to allow really fast slalom times. The Mustang was hurt by slow steering. Its chassis responded to steering-wheel commands with an awkward two-step reaction, and the tail-out mode didn’t work at all in this car. The Fiero suffered from heavy steering and a lack of power.
To quantify transient handling further, we constructed a single-lane-change test, consisting of two parallel twelve-foot-wide lanes connected by a 40-foot-long switch-over gate. The Mustang won this sashay through the cones with an astonishingly high speed of 56.4 mph, though it was far and away the most difficult car to control. Careful steering inputs and a gentle throttle foot were required to keep the SVO from kicking its tail out and spinning off toward oblivion.
The Z28 had far more controllable tail swings but couldn’t quite match the Mustang’s speed. The Corvette’s tail wags were just as controllable, but they also limited its speed. The Daytona was again the easiest to drive (as it was in the slalom), and, as before, the price was excessive understeer. The Fiero was last, hurt by transient oversteer beyond the control of its slow, heavy steering.
Although our first four handling exercises were purely directional changes, we also wanted to test cornering while braking and while accelerating, so we marked a straight line that extended tangentially from our smooth skidpad to help quantify these critical aspects of handling. In one test, we drove toward the skidpad at a high speed and then braked and turned onto the circle. We timed from a point 100 feet before the car’s path first touched the circle to a point 120 degrees around it. The outside of the desired J-turn was defined by cones (if any were hit, the run was discarded).
The Corvette was the fastest in this exercise because it was quite comfortable with a driving technique known at the Bondurant school as “trail braking.” The Corvette’s tail swung out smoothly during the simultaneous braking-and-turn-in stage, pointing the Corvette onto the circle. At the proper time, a touch of the throttle was enough to arrest the car’s yaw (rotation about a vertical axis), and the maneuver was complete.
The Camaro exhibited similar behavior, but because it had a bit more understeer, it didn’t turn in quite so readily. The Mustang and the Daytona both tended toward irreversible terminal under-steer, plowing off the course if the entry speed was too high. The opposite problem plagued the Fiero; it kicked its tail out spastically on the turn-in and resisted recovery.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

To examine simultaneous acceleration and cornering characteristics, we ran the cornering-and-braking course in the opposite direction. None of the cars had a problem putting power to the ground.
Our final track trial took place on a 0.25-mile SCCA Pro Solo gymkhana course at the Chrysler-Shelby Performance Center in Santa Fe Springs, California. This event offered a potpourri of acceleration stretches, corners of varying tightness and duration, and braking areas, all outlined by a forest of traffic cones. A white line defined the desired route to the finish.
With its tenacious grip, quick steering, neutral handling, strong brakes, and smooth throttle response, the Corvette turned in the fastest run, 28.5 mph. Leading the four other cars (all clustered in the 27-mph range) was the Daytona, which darted through the cones very well despite steady understeer and some turbo lag. Similar problems plagued the Mustang. In addition, it suffered from a mushy steering response that demanded large inputs to negotiate the tighter sections of the course.
The Z28 should have done better with its very responsive steering and its choice of readily available understeer or oversteer, but it was hamstrung by the damped responsiveness inherent to its automatic transmission. Finally, the Fiero’s advantages of the smallest size and the lightest curb weight in the test were offset by its lack of power and its heavy, slow steering.
The Racetrack
The sanctuary of a race circuit allowed us to explore the outer reaches of the handling envelope without terrorizing the citizenry, upsetting the constabulary, or doing ourselves irreparable harm. The venue for this part of the handling exam was Willow Springs International Raceway, which is draped across the Mojave Desert near Rosamond, California. Willow’s 2.5-mile ribbon roller-coasters through nine turns and hits you with everything from hairy, flat-out top-gear sweepers to grinding second-gear switchbacks. No wonder it’s a favorite test site for Formula 1 teams during their North American swing.
The biggest pitfall in analyzing racecourse lap times is reading too much into them. Racetrack driving is a specialized event that focuses on a car’s ability at the hairy edge of adhesion—and sometimes beyond. You simply can’t drive this way on the street—at least not for long—or you’ll soon be stopping at the big tollbooth in the sky. In the simplest terms, lap times are merely indicators of a street car’s ultimate cornering, braking, and accelerating potential, much as the classic skidpad test is just one indicator of roadholding. The numbers produced at a racetrack are far from the bottom line of handling.
There are, however, other good reasons for trekking to a racecourse, some of which fall under the heading “revelations.” We hoped to gain additional subjective insight at Willow Springs just by paying attention to seat-of-the-pants-acquired evidence. In addition to thorough drivers’ notes, we of course took lap times. To minimize the wide variances in power-to-weight ratios, we also set up a test within a test: a short timing trap through Turn Five.

AARON KILEY

As corners go, the Turn Five kink is a one-and-a-half gainer with a twist. The entrance plummets downhill to the right. After a flash of braking over ripply pavement, you dive to the left as the ground comes up to meet you. From the driver’s seat, a pass through Turn Five at over 70 mph feels as if someone’s yanked the track out from under you. This was the perfect place to isolate a car’s handling of a difficult transient maneuver under braking. Horsepower really didn’t enter in.
The test procedures at Willow Springs were simple to the extreme: this was not an endurance race, so we purposely limited back-to-back hot laps, though every contestant had ample opportunity to show its stuff. Tire pressures were raised slightly above the manufacturers’ recommendations to minimize tread damage. Rich Ceppos’s able driving produced the lap times of record, while the five other judges contributed observations and track impressions.
As for the results, the spec chart spells them out in full. The Corvette flat smoked ’em at Willow, racking up an 85.3-mph average lap speed, 1.5 mph clear of the second-place SVO and 7.9 mph ahead of the last-place Fiero. The Turn Five switchback produced a similar pecking order (except that the Fiero moved up two notches while the Camaro slid down one).
Subjectively, we also added several pieces to the jigsaw puzzle. Discovery number one was that our gang of five cars behaved themselves on the racetrack pretty much as they do on the road (the details of which follow). As often as not, a car will have some surprises in store for you when you press it for all it’s worth on the track-but not this group.
The track also afforded us a chance to unravel more of the mystery surrounding the Corvette and its optional Z51 suspension. Chevrolet development engineers recently admitted something we’ve suspected all along: that the Z51 setup offers no improvement in street behavior and that it was developed to maximize racetrack and autocross performance. Indeed, the Corvette felt more like a race car than any of the other contestants: you could make it do almost anything you wished, yet it was difficult to drive fast. Even the staff’s seasoned racers agreed that the Corvette doesn’t open up to you quickly; you’d probably still be stretching its limits and learning its secrets after a couple of days of racetrack lapping. Since it’s a harder car to get to know, we suspect that the gap between its lap times and those of the four other cars might widen with practice.
Finally, there’s the SVO’s stellar second placings in overall lap speed and in the Turn Five competition. It might have been the gobs of confidence-inspiring under-steer that made it easy to drive to the limit in so few laps. Or maybe it was that the third-fastest car, the Camaro, was hampered more than we might have imagined by its automatic transmission. (The five-speed test car we’d planned to use was stolen out from under us.) But that’s the thing about racetrack testing: as often as not, a day at the circuit poses as many questions as it answers.
Artificial test courses and racetrack exercises advance the quest for handling excellence, but what really counts is life on the road. Ride with us now as we relive the miles that mattered: up, down, around, and through the Angeles Crest and Angeles Forest highways. The angels were good to us, and our logbooks are bursting with insight; their innermost secrets follow.

A great chassis is useless to a driver who cannot interface properly with it. Ergonomically, the test team generally approved of the little Fiero’s cockpit. Visibility seemed fine. The steering wheel drew raves, and the general placement of the controls was considered good. Several drivers praised the seats. “Nice, cozy, bolted-in feel,” concluded one.
The shifter, on the other hand, was condemned by one and all. Notchy, balky, heavy, slow, and unfriendly, it was a chore to use. Putting these mixed ergonomics into action disclosed mixed handling characteristics. “Basic cornering balance is power-on understeer, power-off oversteer,” said Csaba Csere, “but it’s not very pronounced because the difference between zero and full throttle is minimal. Tail is a little unstable. It doesn’t seriously threaten to get out, but under hard braking, turn-in, or throttle movement, it is mildly disconcerting.”

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

“Rubbery but very coordinated” is the way Larry Griffin put it. “Like most mid-engined cars, this one likes to be set politely on a line and held, whereupon it folds into and out of corners really well.” Ceppos discovered “lots of ride steer over bumps,” as well as what he called an “orbital ride motion in the rear suspension.” Don Sherman amplified: “At times this feels as if you’re managing two cars—a separate front, a very independent rear. The front can’t be felt very well through the steering. The rear is substantially under-damped. The back end bottoms at times. This car doesn’t feel of a piece at all.”
The steering feel troubled everyone—not because of its comparative heaviness at parking-lot speeds, which didn’t bother everybody and which eased at higher velocities anyway, but because of its surprising lack of feel and its unpleasant way of telegraphing bumps. Jean Lindamood called the steering “ponderous.” Pete Lyons said: “I can tell the front wheels are trying to talk to me, but the message isn’t getting through. The steering wheel kicks back on bumps and longitudinal ridges. It’s tiresome.” Ceppos complained: “No steering feel to warn you of impending under-steer.” Csere: “Forces build up, but only in relation to the steering angle, not to steering effort.”
Under braking, more problems appeared. “Brakes are touchy,” Csere noted. “Must be applied with great care. Not progressive enough.” As Sherman put it, “Brakes feel powerful enough, don’t fade, but pedal is distance-, not effort-, dependent. Not good.”
What the brakes did to the chassis was not appreciated, either. Lyons complained that the Fiero was downright “squirrelly under hard braking into a bend. Under panic conditions, it feels awful.” As for the anemic 92-horse engine, nobody had a good word. “Serious power shortage.” “Engine drones, does nothing.” “Lack of power is killing this car. Once settled into the corner, you can’t accelerate enough to work the tires.”
We’d say that if Pontiac intends to make an honest sports car out of the Fiero—and we sincerely hope it does—it’s time to get on with the effort.

One of the briefs of Ford’s SVO group was to build cars true to the European grand-touring tradition, capable of comfortably covering long distances at high speeds. Such cars tend to be well-rounded performers, with excellence in all areas given a higher priority than superiority in only a few.
The Mustang SVO is a clear demonstration of this philosophy. Its excellent driving position was praised by all of our testers. Much of the credit goes to the seats, which everyone found quite comfortable, though some felt that a bit more lateral support would be useful. The smoothly operating controls, ranging from the slickest shifter in the group to the heel-and-toe layout of the pedals, also earned praise.
This hospitable interior was complemented by the Mustang’s comfortable ride, probably the best in the test. As Lyons said, “It has a pleasant, velvety smoothness.” The Mustang absorbed large bumps in a positively European fashion with long, supple, fluid suspension strokes, yet it suppressed small road imperfections with the compliance of a Detroit luxosedan. These suspension characteristics prevailed over a wide speed range, from in-town slow to back-road brisk.
Unfortunately, control deteriorated as we began to push the SVO to its limit. The front end started to bob over bumps, and the body and the chassis developed a disconnected feeling, as if the two were moving independently. Our Hungarian handling expert suggested in the logbook that “this car feels a bit floaty over bumps, comfortable but not tied down quite enough.”
A similar transformation happened to the steering. Its linear responses, adequate effort, and total lack of twitchiness made the Mustang one of the easiest cars in the group to drive smoothly. But when pushed, these docile characteristics turned sluggish and the Mustang demanded overlarge steering inputs. Furthermore, the steering feeds little information to the driver about the front tires’ exertions.
Ceppos reflected, “You get a lot of warning from the tires’ progressive breakaway, but no feel through the steering at the limit.” Kicking the tail out could be achieved with a sudden steering input, a heavy application of power, or the help of some convenient bumps, but our testers found that such antics weren’t worth the effort. According to Csere, “The Mustang is hard to drive tail-out, demanding sensitive throttle action and quick directional corrections that its steering mechanism is ill-equipped to deliver.
In much the same vein, the Mustang’s brakes, which felt firm and progressive most of the time, went flabby under pressure. An initial dead spot developed (possibly a result of boiling brake fluid), and the brakes faded severely, requiring heavy pressure to produce any deceleration. Lindamood: “The brakes have gone south!” The fast pace also pointed up substantial turbo lag, which was present even when the engine was kept in its irritatingly buzz), upper-rpm range. “Turbo lag is not a good deal,” Sherman observed. “It changes your setup for a turn.”
None of this detracts from the Mustang SVO as a legitimate high-performance GT car. Indeed, we were happy with the SVO when we drove it in that mode. But for those who like to explore a car’s limits, or those who get their thrills from Sunday-morning canyon races, the Mustang SVO is well down from our first choice.

If there was one car that was a shock to our six-person jury, it was the Dodge Daytona. As they say, you learn something every day. The Daytona was entered in this running of the sweet-handling sweepstakes almost as a courtesy to the friends of front-wheel drive. Some of us had the uneasy feeling that the Turbo Z wasn’t a wholly righteous member of this group—whose stuff for the most part, is so very right. We had quickly seized on the four other candidates, each the ultimate domestic development of its configuration.
What in the name of all that’s holy where the rubber meets the road could the Dodge Daytona with its front-wheel drive and its pissant 2.2 liters of engine displacement hope to do against the true monsters of the macadam? We’re glad you asked that question, and we’re thanking our lucky stars that we did.
Oh, we found room for complaint. Virtually everyone complained about the Turbo Z’s relative lack of sophistication in noise, vibration, and harshness control. The power seats (which allowed just about all of us to find a good position behind the tilt-adjustable wheel, the fine heel-and-toe pedal arrangement, and the dandy dead pedal) had a disconcerting tendency to shift now and then in small increments on their mounts. And, although we liked the positioning of the wheel’s four partially leather-wrapped spokes, nobody liked its cutting edges, left unblunted right where a vigorous driver’s thumbs tend to snuggle. And the shifter, though precise, was on the notch, side.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

This burst of negatives had a short half-life. The minute the going got hot and heavy, the Daytona had no trouble generating enthusiasm. Sherman pointed out that the Daytona had “great turn-in.” He rambled on: “Very stable under hard braking, hard cornering, or both at once. The chassis never wobbles or frightens. Steering a bit numb on center but gets far more telegraphic just off center. You ask, it answers. A friendly car.”
Rich Ceppos: “This car is a delight to drive hard. The turbo lag is imperceptible from 3000 to 5000 rpm. A little ruffled on hard braking and a bit rough on ride, but quite the canyon car.” Csaba Csere concurred: “Damn good car! Feels incredibly good. I can get everything out of it that it has to offer. Engine makes nice power, has much less lag than the Mustang’s turbo.” Jean Lindamood: “Fun car to drive because it feels a little nasty, a little macho. Lots of action for the driver.”
Lyons evidenced mixed emotions: “The car is a little soft and roly-poly, but it will stay with you as you escalate your effort to the near-berserk level. It seems forgiving; however, it also seems cheap. This is just an econobox.” Larry Griffin, however, found a friend: “Pedals perfect. Promises to be most comfortable on long trips. Tracks best, too.”
The Daytona Turbo’s tidy size was unquestionably a big help climbing mountains. Even the hard-grunting Corvette couldn’t get away during some of the high-altitude uphill runs, the Daytona boost pulling beautifully in the ‘rarefied air. All in all, this Dodge is one fine piece of work. Furthermore, none of us now harbors any lingering doubts about whether it belongs with the righteous.

If ever a car looked like an overdog on paper, the Corvette is it. In track testing, the Corvette was a whiz. It rides on the fattest, stickiest tires this side of Formula 1, and its chassis is full of forged-aluminum exotica. Yet its logbook was a near-equal mix of praise and protest. Lyons loved the chassis’s stick but hated its dartiness. Ceppos extolled the grip but called the steering response “knife-edged.” Sherman liked the steering response but despised the lack of road feel.
Everybody was impressed by the brakes but felt let down by the seats. Griffin applauded the driving position but complained of a “loose-tail feeling” even at moderate speeds. Page after page, the balance swung back and forth, first good, then bad. The metronoming would have mesmerized Judge Wapner, and our jury sweat bullets coming to grips with the Corvette. Eventually we accumulated the necessary road miles to call a clear verdict: good, but not yet great.
In this liberated age the idea of a “man’s car” may be inappropriate, but there are masculine cars—and the new Corvette is clearly one of them. If the Corvette were human, it would be an NFL lineman—big, brutish, mean, nasty, and forceful.
Our foray on the Angeles Crest Highway proved conclusively that the Corvette is the fastest point A—to—point B American-made car—at least when the way is filled with zigs and zags. At speeds that had the other contestants screeching, bouncing, sluing, and clawing for traction, the Corvette bulled its way around corners without even sliding a tire—as if it were a giant slot car. Its adhesion is an order of magnitude higher than that of anything else on the street. “Awesome” was penned in the Corvette’s logbook more than once to describe its cornering power.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

Mixed with the Corvette’s road-wrinkling grip was a liberal dose of orneriness—a collection of feints and darts that scare you into thinking danger is imminent when you’re well below the spin-out threshold. Part of the problem is the Z51 combination of fast steering and no-nonsense tires. The chassis is so responsive to the wheel that you have to be careful not to change lanes every time you blink.
Ultimately, the Corvette is a difficult car to drive hard and fast because it just doesn’t talk to you. Understanding the messages it sends up through the seat of your pants and through the numb steering is a long-term learning process.
Of course, there’s a whole world of handling that exists in the normal, everyday driving mode, and here there is even more trouble in paradise. Though the steering gear has a strong on-center sense, the Corvette wanders occasionally, and it’s easily upset by the scalloped edges of country roads. In moderate freeway-speed lane changes the Corvette doesn’t feel as confident or of a piece as you’d expect.
Somewhere deep within its chassis there are components that haven’t yet jelled. And the ride, though better than that of earlier production models, is still about the rockiest thing this side of a Mack. The bottom line on the Corvette is that it’s one tough sumbitch, with a no-compromises, racer-for-the-street temperament. It has high limits, and it places even higher demands on the driver. Handling perfection, however, is still many engineering-development months away for this car.

The Z28 came to our shoot-out with the mark of Cain branded on its hood: we’d spent a disastrous 25,000 miles with a 1983 model (C/D, December), our five-speed test car was stolen before we ever laid hands on it, and the stand-in came handicapped with an automatic transmission. As if this weren’t enough, an intermittent fuel-delivery problem cropped up halfway through the testing. Despite these drawbacks, we all took a real shine to the Camaro.
Everybody agreed that the Z28 had a delightful combination of tight adhesion, telegraphic controls, manageable response, and forgiving limits. We are pleased to report that Chevrolet’s once-rough gem has been polished into a handling jewel. “It’s a bit harder to drive at ten-tenths than the Daytona,” explained Ceppos in the Z28’s logbook, “but it’s far easier to handle than the Corvette.” This opinion was echoed by more than one staffer in the logbook.
Unlike the Corvette, the Z28 encourages its driver to explore the upper registers, and its chassis sends back honest assessments of the situation at hand. Steaming into the tight turns of our serpentine road course through the San Gabriel Mountains brought on a smidgen of understeer. A lift of the right foot, and the tail would nudge out proportionately, though it was easy to check with the proper amount of opposite steering lock. “Perfect for trail braking,” wrote Csere. “Bon-durant would love this car.”
The Z28 remained collected, controlled, and maneuverable at the limit even in the face of adversity. We encountered corners sprinkled with grit, cracked and broken pavement, and decreasing-radii bends that demanded heavy braking; the unflappable Camaro ate up the route and spit expertly processed highway out the back. “Have we complained about the harshness of the Z28’s ride in the past? Forget it,” said Lindamood. “The suspension was thoroughly recalibrated for 1984. It works!”

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Indeed, there were only two true disruptions of this car’s handling prowess. First, every tester voted to give the Z28 more steering feel (higher effort and improved sensitivity), while praising its crisp and linear responsiveness. Second, we were bothered by the Z28’s optional six-way power Content- seat (“Trash!” “Junk!” “Sucks!”), the most ill-conceived bucket in our five-car group. The padding appears to be in all the right places, but Chevy apparently forgot to take out the rocks and put in the foam rubber. Lindamood recommended substituting the seats from the Corvette.
The Camaro had a tough row to hoe in our driving rotation, because it followed the race-ready Corvette in our anti-alphabetical order. We quickly learned, however, that a turn in the Z28 was true handling relief: an effortless, confidence-inspiring drive. One comment in the logbook summed up the relative merits of the Chevrolet siblings precisely: “It makes me think that the Corvette ought to be sent to Camaro school.”
All hail the best-handling car made in America: the Chevrolet Camaro Z28. It’s a clear winner, thanks to its well-developed chassis and sensational over-the-road poise. Three judges spotted it first overall, while the other three awarded it their second-place scores. (Five points were allotted to the best handler, one to the worst. Ties were allowed.)
It would be difficult to name two cars less alike than the Corvette and the Daytona, but our bottom-line ballot has nonetheless joined them in unholy matrimony: a second-place tie. The Corvette’s high limits and quirky responses prompted votes that ran the gamut (one, two, four, and five points), while the easy-handling Daytona won three, four, or five points from everyone. The SVO Mustang racked up a fifteen-point total (two, three, or four points per judge), for fourth overall. Clearly, the Ford Motor Company is in the hunt, but there’s plenty of room for improving the handling of its performance flagship.
The Fiero scored only one or two points per judge, and we’re convinced its distinct lack of power was a significant but not the primary reason the new Pontiac ended up in the cellar. Pontiac engineers apparently had images of a cute commuter fixed a bit too firmly in their minds during the design and development phases. Once those philosophies are flushed and replaced by honest sports-car aspirations, the Fiero will surely advance to a much higher orbit in the car cosmos.
After weeks of planning, executing, and mulling over this investigation, we’re convinced the results are well worth the effort. Fresh information was gleaned, a number of pet theories were either proved valid or shot full of holes, and one very impressive automobile had an excellent opportunity to distinguish itself from its peers. Six judges really can tell what is good and what isn’t in car handling as long as the back-to-back comparisons are carefully conducted. As a matter of fact, we may just fine-tune our test-track decathlon a bit, buy another batch of airline tickets to visit the angels, and launch a similar search for the best handling import.
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From the July 1984 issue of Car and Driver.
And you thought we had risked it all racing up and down treacherous mountain passes to name the Camaro Z28 the best-handling American car (C/D, May). Well, we’re back on the rock, dancing with the same seraphim of the Angeles Forest, but we’ve upped the ante to eight contestants—over a quarter of a million dollars’ worth of turbocharged, four-valved, double-over-head-cammed heart stoppers. The part that hasn’t changed much is the mission. We’ve brought imported machines to the mount this time, but the challenge once again is to find the best-handling automobile of the lot.

From the Archive: 1992 Hot Coupe Comparo

Tested: Y2K Super Sedan Comparison

$60K Sports Car Showdown

As before, this is a pure roadability investigation. No acceleration figures or braking distances were allowed to confuse the proceedings. Price was not a factor, either: a quick check of the vital statistics will reveal window stickers ranging from $10,345 to $50,000. Any current model that United States on a passport was a potential contender.
At the start we had no intention of testing eight cars to ascertain the best import, but once the floor was open to nominations, the kid-in-a-candy-store phenomenon took over. We wanted representatives from all over the globe, a mix of the affordable and the exotic, and a variety of powertrain layouts. We purposely sought out several highly reputed brands and a couple of Johnny-come-lately challengers. Ferrari, Lotus, and Porsche had to be represented if this was to be a legitimate exercise, but that raised the question of which Porsche. We answered it by inviting all three of Ferry’s finest. The Audi Quattro is one of the boldest handling experiments ever to press rubber to the road, so we had to have the four-wheel-driver, even though only a handful are sold here each year. Since front-wheel drive made such a great impression in our last test, it seemed imperative to consider a front-driver this time around. Before we knew it, our best-handling shopping cart contained a two-door sedan and seven coupes; an all-wheel-driver, a front-driver, and six rear-drivers. Front-, mid-, and rear-engined layouts are all represented, though we did not make room for a mid-engined, front-drive station wagon. Maybe next time.

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Rounding up the rolling stock and the personnel to keep it rolling was no mean feat in itself. Ferrari North America bowed out, claiming that its entire West Coast stock of Quattrovalvoles had been sold! Fortunately, Mike Sheehan of European Auto Restoration in Costa Mesa, California, stepped into the breach to lend us a 1984 coupe off his gray-market lot. A Quattro had to be trucked in from a Gulf Coast port at the last minute, so of course the driver fell ill on the road. And although we intended to keep the original six-person jury intact for this second round of tests, Jean Lindamood missed the action because of an injury. (Her separated shoulder is on the mend.) The sixth seat was capably filled by Patrick Bedard, C/D editor at large.
The battery of subjective and objective handling tests tooled up for the American-made cars had worked so well that little fine-tuning was deemed necessary for this round. We allotted more time to study on-center handling, and we applied a new photoelectric timing device to several of our track tests. Since the SCCA gymkhana course at the Chrysler-Shelby Performance Center had become a tractor-trailer parking lot, we laid out our own array of cones at the Los Angeles County Fairgrounds.
As usual, you’ll find a blizzard of performance statistics sprinkled throughout the next few pages, but don’t pay too much attention to individual test scores or racetrack results. What’s most important here is the bottom line; we’ve determined the best-handling import with a single, easy-to-understand subjective vote. The path to that determination starts right here.

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The Test Track
Confirming impressions is what the test track is all about. It’s a safe place to explore the extremes of a car’s behavior. In the process, we define performance limits and probe handling characteristics that can’t be fully studied on the street.
We put the best-handling-import contenders through the same track tests to which we subjected the domestic candidates in May, at the same test facility. These included both smooth and rough skidpads, a 900-foot slalom, a lane-change maneuver, combined acceleration and cornering, and combined braking and cornering. We made a few minor procedural alterations, but the results reported here should be comparable with the measurements taken two months ago. We also ran each car through an SCCA Pro Solo gymkhana course, as before, but a slightly slower layout than the one we used in May.

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The Porsche 911 Carrera with the optional Turbo chassis took top honors in both skidpad tests, managing 0.84 g on the smooth circle and 0.82 on the bumpy one. In each case, it displayed the classic 911 traits of power-on understeer and power-off oversteer, with a fine line between the two. The Carrera’s ability to absorb the rough circle’s peaks and valleys without ever bottoming its suspension was most impressive.
The Porsche 944 displayed similar characteristics, but with a softer transition between oversteer and understeer. It circulated at 0.82 g on the smooth pad and at 0.81 g on the rough circle, but in the latter test it suffered much bobbing and an occasional bottoming crash. The Toyota Supra and the Porsche 928 behaved in a similar fashion, though both demonstrated less grip. The Ferrari scored in the same group, but once its tail swung beyond a certain point, there was no catching it; its loose rear end was especially noticeable on the bumpy circle, where its slow, heavy steering wasn’t much help in managing its wayward tail. The Lotus Esprit Turbo also tended to swing its tail in lift-throttle situations; its steering would go light at the same time, confusing the driver by implying an understeer that wasn’t really present.

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In contrast to these cars, the Honda Prelude and the Audi Quattro cornered purely in an understeer mode. Both could be pushed to their limits under power and held there by lifting off when necessary. The Prelude responded instantly to this throttle change by tucking in its nose. The Quattro behaved similarly, though more sluggishly.
Our lane-change and slalom tests both demand controllability in addition to adhesion, though the lane change is the more forgiving of the two. The Esprit provided the best way to compare the relative severity of the two tests: it was by far the fastest lane changer (thanks to its extremely quick turn-in response), but its nonlinear-steering and tail-wagging tendencies hurt it in the more repetitive slalom test. The Porsche 944 exhibited the opposite characteristics: its superb controllability helped produce the fastest slalom-course speed, but it fell to fourth place in the lane-change event.
The 911 Carrera was quite capable through both courses, but only when driven below its limits. A little too much speed, and it started sliding past the point where recovery was possible. The 308 also had to be driven very carefully to its second-best slalom clocking, but its lane-change performance was hampered by slow steering. The Honda Prelude was much easier to drive in these tests, its performance being limited largely by a lack of grip.

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The Quattro and the 928 were the poorest finishers in the transient tests. Both cars demonstrated their bulky and heavy natures by resisting sudden directional changes, and the effect was magnified by ponderous steering. The Quattro was further hindered by a two-step response to sudden steering inputs, which made it difficult to position accurately.
In our combined cornering-and-braking test, the Esprit again demonstrated its excellent turn-in ability, and its tail-end high-jinks were easy to check in this one-shot maneuver. The Ferrari, the 944, and the Carrera also felt quite capable: all three had useful tail-out tendencies. The Supra and the 928 exhibited similar behavior, but they hung out their tails at lower speeds because of their lower traction limits.
Interestingly enough, the Quattro kicked out its tail during the turn-and-brake phase of the test, but it promptly shifted into heavy understeer when a throttle correction was applied. The Prelude was also hindered by an excessive dependence on its front tires. The feeling was secure, but also very slow. The ability to accelerate out of a corner at the limit obviously depends on the power available, so it’s not too surprising that the 308 was the quickest of several very quick cars in our cornering-while-accelerating test. It had enough understeer to allow an early, heavy power application. The Carrera, the Quattro, the 944, and the Prelude also reacted to power with controllable understeer. The Esprit, the Supra, and the 928 tended to hang out their tails when power was applied, to the detriment of their exit speeds.

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The gymkhana course also depends on power for quick times, but it’s still a useful gauge of low-speed handling. The 911 Carrera was the quickest car in this test, thanks to abundant power, excellent grip, and easy below-the-limit controllability. The Lotus was nearly as quick but far harder to drive; it was helped by its nimble directional-changing ability but hurt by its turbo lag, tail-happiness, and unsupportive seat. The Ferrari was not far behind; it had tenacious grip and excellent power but was again hampered by its heavy, slow steering. The 944 was equally quick; it was easy to drive but suffered from too much understeer.
Surprisingly, the front-drive Prelude showed little understeer in the gymkhana. It trail-braked nicely, and its light, quick steering was perfect for the tight course. In contrast, the power-steering units in the Supra and the Quattro lost their assist in the course’s tight turns, hindering their progress. The Supra also tended to spin its inside rear tire uselessly, and the Quattro didn’t like the course’s sudden directional changes. Nor did the 928, which alternated between excessive plowing and wagging its tail between the tight cones.

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The Racetrack
Racetracks provide a sort of theoretical test of handling. Each turn is practiced to perfection, and every inch of the road can be used without fear of oncoming traffic, which means that track operation is pretty much irrelevant to what happens on the street. But track operation also cuts through all the excuses. There is no way a car can hide its handling quirks. If it’s ornery at the limit, you find out immediately.
Only a few years ago, there wasn’t a production car alive that would acquit itself with honor on a racetrack; they would all fall to their knees when pushed. What’s remarkable about this test is that four of the contestants behaved with true poise at the limit. (Curiously, the eight test cars fell into two groups: those with poise and those with speed. The fast ones were far more challenging to keep on the pavement, and this had nothing to do with being overpowered. They just didn’t handle as well.) The high marks go to the Prelude, the Supra, the Quattro, and the 944. Willow Springs put forth its damnedest—constant-radius tire squealers, cresting turns, plummeting turns, ultra-high-speed sweepers, and the nasty, decreasing-radius Turn Nine—and these four took it all with aplomb.

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The Honda was the slowest of all the cars, averaging 78.8 mph for a lap of Willow. Its modest power holds it back. Its handling, however, is delightful: very light to the touch and quick to respond. The 70-series Bridgestones aren’t terribly sticky, but the car seems perfectly tailored to what grip they do have. You can use it all. The chassis is so predictable you needn’t leave big margins. As you would expect of a front-driver, there is understeer with power and tuck-in when you lift. The special joy of the Honda is that it seems to have exactly the right amount of each, which is to say, not much.
The idea that Japan can’t build good-handling cars is hereby put to rest. The Supra also earned a berth in the “poised” group, with a mild understeering tendency that it maintains over a broad range of operation. It’s calm and stable, almost relaxing to drive hard. No bad habits wait to trip you up. Only a pedal placement that prevents heel-and-toeing keeps this car from showing its best at the track.

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If this lead group proves anything, it’s that good street-car handling is not the sole province of any one driveline configuration: we had a front-driver, two rear-drivers, and a four-wheel-driver. The Quattro is too big a car with too little horsepower to produce fantastic lap times, but its R-coded Pirelli P7s did supply amazing grip and its four-wheel drive ensured unflappable stability. This car has a clear and predictable preference for understeer; no matter how you hack at the wheel or play the pedals, that’s what it does. If you’re into a turn too hot, easing off the power reduces speed, bringing the car back into line. But there’s no tuck-in when you lift, just understeer. When it comes to spin-out resistance, the Quattro easily leads the league.
There is a strong family resemblance in Porsches, yet we much prefer the 944. There probably isn’t another volume-produced car anywhere that takes to the track as well. The controls are positioned exactly right, and the car is wonderfully tolerant at the limit. Understeer is gentle under power, replaced by a nice tuck-in when you lift. In part because of the gradual nature of the Pirelli P6s, the 944 is terrifically slidable. Both ends seem to let go simultaneously and then reattach themselves to the pavement in the same controllable way.

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The Pirelli P7s on the 928 have a sharper breakaway; combined with the car’s clear preference for tail-out cornering, they make for far trickier handling. Still, the 928 was about a second a lap faster than the 944, and only two seconds slower than the 911, the Lotus, and the Ferrari, which turned in virtually identical times. Had we been able to get a 928 with a five-speed manual transmission instead of a four-speed automatic, the car would probably have finished closer to the top group, though it would have been no less tricky.
The Lotus and the Ferrari, each in its own way, are even more difficult. The Ferrari’s bus-driver wheel position makes fast, accurate steering almost impossible. Our 308 suffered from a sticking throttle as well. At low speeds there is strong understeer, melting away to a nervous, on-edge feeling in turns above 100 mph, probably because of aerodynamic lifting of the nose.

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The Lotus is a purveyor of odd and usually unpleasant messages to its driver. As cornering forces build, its steering gets light, even in the face of clear understeer. Turning into corners is nasty: after an initial steer in, you must quickly steer out to keep the tail from coming around. In the undulating, high-speed sweeper at Willow, the car was so darty that the driver would never again take it flat out after the first lap. Both the Lotus and the Ferrari are fast cars, but you have to grit your teeth to get the most out of them.
Surprisingly, the 911 was within a tenth of a second of the Ferrari, and it exhibited no trauma at all. It has fantastic steering: the forces build in direct proportion to cornering force. You can feel what you’re doing in this car: it sends clear messages to its driver. The big one is, “Don’t get off the power in turns.” If you pay attention, you can get around very quickly in this car and have a great time doing it.
Racetrack and cone courses are fine for satisfying curiosity and investigating handling off the beaten path, but what matters most is an automobile’s real-life performance. What follows is as real as we can make it, the straight scoop from our Angeles Forest Highway logbooks.

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Lotus Esprit Turbo: Gorgeous to Look at, but . . .
This car could be rechristened the Lotus Enigma. We all know what knee-high, mid-engined two-seaters with Lotus nameplates are supposed to be good for. Blurring the scenery, that’s what. Making your sports-car-lovin’ heart beat fast.
So it comes as a surprise that our testers ended up saying, “Great ride” (Sherman) and “Ride is wonderful on this choppy mountain road” (Csere). And lambasting its handling: “At seven- or eight-tenths, it comes unglued, unpredictable” (Sherman). “Start pushing it the way its looks and power say you ought to, and the damn thing starts flopping around like a dying fish” (Lyons). “Twitchy and ornery” (Bedard). “A snap spin is probably in the cards for a beginner” (Ceppos).
Lotus spokesmen have told us of their goals for this car. They wanted a highspeed express, something in which a well-heeled European could jet across the Continent at triple-digit speeds in the company of one friend and minimal luggage. It had to be fast and comfortable, because a guy spending this much money doesn’t want to be beaten up by his own machine.

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The compromise for comfort is what produces the enigma, we think. A car so low and cramped inside is never going to be comfortable. “Shoes over size ten begin to get tangled in the pedals” (Bedard). “The shifter falls readily to elbow” (Ceppos). “Gives me a sit-in-a-hole feeling” (Sherman). Lotus did, however, soften the suspension: soft springs, soft shocks, soft bushings, particularly in the rear. The result is a wow-wee looker that rides well.
In routine freeway driving, or trolling on Sunset Boulevard, this works out fine (assuming you like the Esprit Turbo’s appearance). The steering is light and sharp on center—”the classic manual-steering feel,” according to one tester. “The gearbox is a delight around town,” said another. “Engine is splendid once the boost comes up,” said yet another.

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Yet the Esprit always reminds one that it’s not really constructed for comfort and convenience. The wide windshield pillars intrude on your vision, the wheel is so high you’re forced into a praying-mantis position, and the seat shape keeps trying to submarine you under the belts. Of course, none of these intrusions are too surprising. In a Lotus, everything is subjugated to the one, true quality of a sports car, and that’s handling.
Well, not this time. A Lotus engineer explained to us that ride is very important in Europe and the Esprit’s ride has been substantially improved by the use of soft bushings at the forward ends of the rear-suspension trailing arms. He concedes that this does produce a measurable amount of deflection steer in back, but European drivers don’t seem to mind.
We find ourselves minding terribly much. To a man, the testers disapproved of the Esprit’s behavior when driven hard. And if you can’t drive hard in a Lotus, what’s it good for?

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Ferrari 308 Quattrovalvole: A Fine Mistress, a Poor Wife
Ferrari North America failed to deliver a test car representative of current production. Left to our own foraging, we turned up something at least as interesting: a low-mileage, gray-market example certified by an independent lab. It had Michelin TRX tires, as 308s had for years until they were replaced by Goodyear NCTs for 1984. Except for a few details such as a sticking throttle and a steering-wheel position higher and flatter than we recall in any other 308, it was a fine example of the breed. The engine was especially strong and zingy; the car felt light and frisky. In other words, a car like this could give Ferrari a good name in this country.
The testers’ comments seemed unanimous. Ceppos could have been speaking for the entire corps when he noted, “Good brakes, intoxicating engine sound, stable low-speed understeer, awful driving position.” The 308 Ferrari probably fits someone on this planet, but he doesn’t work here. Sherman’s knuckles rubbed the instrument panel at the top of the steering wheel. Bedard could barely reach that far when his seat was set at the proper distance from the pedals. All complained about the hot spot reflected into the windshield from the top of the instrument panel. Nobody cared much for the seat, finding it thin and hard and not particularly supportive of any part of the anatomy. Sherman observed that the instruments and the switches seemed to be casually sprinkled around the cockpit.

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Typical of Ferrari practice is the friction in the steering. “The wheel can be turned and released, and it won’t return to straight ahead, not even close,” said Csere. “About half a turn from center the friction increases greatly; then toward three-quarters of a turn it drops way off to less than on-center,” added Lyons. “Weird non-linearities as you turn away from center,” confirmed Bedard. Sherman observed “occasional giant kickbacks in the wheel, particularly over low-speed bumps.” Without the friction, the kicks would be worse. The Quattrovalvole’s suspension is highly damped, not moving much over the road yet reasonably soft in ride. Road adhesion is conspicuously good. In fast mountain driving, the Ferrari gets around with little slipping and sliding. “During throttle lift-off at my cornering speed, there is only a mild reduction of understeer—no serious threat of the tail stepping out,” said Lyons. “Very predictable with lots of understeer, but it never really plow’s,” said Csere.
The consensus is that the Ferrari is good fun when you feel like sporting around but a bit tight in the seams and pointy in the toes for everyday wear. And if you pay attention to business when the engine noise gets loud, probably the only trouble it will get you into will be with the cops.

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Porsche 911 Turbo: Hanging in There
Strong feelings and Porsches go hand in hand. You won’t find a more fiercely loyal owner body than Porschephiles, and our experience with the Carrera was likewise powerful. The consensus on the latest rendition of the ageless 911 is a mix of bubbling enthusiasm for its virtues, tempered with a healthy respect for its vices. “This is not a subtle car,” said Csere.
The Carrera proved to be a triumph of painstaking development over antiquated design. The Son-of-Beetle rear-engine layout with its tail-heavy weight bias shouldn’t work this well, but here is the Carrera, in its twentieth year, hanging in there with the best of them. On the test track our Carrera—outfitted with the limited-edition 930 Turbo bodywork, brakes, suspension, and wide wheels—blew the rest of the group away with the highest composite score. On the racecourse it was fast enough to turn in the third-fastest lap time and the quickest Turn Five speed.

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In the acid test of street driving, the results weren’t nearly as lopsided, but the reviews were never neutral. On the plus side, just about everyone agreed that the Carrera gives you a first-class office for your driving business. “Excellent seats, steering wheel, and ergonomics,” commented Sherman. “The driving position is good,” added Csere. About the only shortcoming is the near impossibility of heel-and-toeing, but since the Carrera’s pedals are to some extent adjustable, it shouldn’t be too hard to help this disability.
The Carrera’s greatest gift, our merry band of testers agreed, is its forthrightness. In hard driving, “understeer and oversteer are honestly telegraphed,” wrote Griffin. Bedard praised the steering: “No nervous corrections are required. Just wind it into the apex and then unwind.” Griffin summed up the commendations: “I love it because it says, ‘Here’s the deal.’ Sensational brakes, minimal dive, and tight steering are the saviors of this layout.”
But there’s another, darker side to the Carrera character. “It makes my palms sweat,” wrote Ceppos. “All the multifarious messages,” said Lyons, “add up to ‘Don’t tread on me.’ ”

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What they’re talking about is the 911 series’ well-known disdain for lift-throttle cornering. Snap the throttle closed in the midst of an acrobatic maneuver, and the Carrera’s tail will do a heart-fluttering step sideways. Happily, the Carrera is very stable when cornering hard on the throttle or on the brakes, but never getting caught out takes stern concentration indeed. “This car requires a deliberate driving style,” noted Csere.
“It makes my palms sweat, too,” wrote Bedard, but he wasn’t specifically referring to the Carrera’s handling. “How do they make a car with no weight up front steer so heavy?”
Ultimately, though, it was the level of mental, not physical, effort demanded by the Carrera that kept it from climbing higher in the pecking order. “This one will do for crazy fun,” Sherman observed, “but you have to pay so much attention that it makes me wonder if it’s really worth it.”

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Porsche 928S: Heavyweight Champion
The Porsche 928S was the widest, heaviest, and most powerful car in the group, and these characteristics created a sense of massiveness that dominated most of our impressions. Everyone noted its unswerving straight-line stability and self-centering steering feel. “Excellent tracking. Feels almost as if on rails,” Csere observed. Ceppos found the 928 to have the “closest thing to manual steering I’ve ever felt in a power-steering car.”
Its size also allowed plenty of room for comfortable and ergonomically correct interior accommodations. “The adjustable dash pod and steering wheel make it easy for me to get a perfect driving position,” noted Griffin. Sherman fully agreed: “Perfect ergonomics, comfortable, hard to improve on. Excellent seat, visibility, transmission, and steering wheel.”
But in the twisties, the 928’s bulk did not serve it so well. Lyons called it “an overly pompous, lard-assed German—ponderous, clunky, clumsy, and overweight. This car is not happy doing this.”

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Griffin concurred: “The 928 never entirely loses its impression of bigness, of being a monster mutha on the roll—high, wide, and handsome.” Bedard called it “big and cushy and isolated—very quick for its avoirdupois.”
Much of this ponderous feeling came from the same high-effort, strongly damped steering that contributes so much to the 928’s straight-line stability. Unfortunately, the heavy steering suggests a lack of agility. Several drivers felt that the high centering effort muddled the messages coming from the front tires. Lyons described it as “a swaddled feeling. Driving the 928 is like wielding a golf club or a tennis racket with oven mitts on.”
However, the 928 can react very capably when given the proper control inputs. Ceppos said it provides “my idea of fabulous handling. This car’s seat-of-the-pants feel is superb. The tires give you lots of warning, and you can work both ends of the car as you see fit. Fantastic.”

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

Others, though, found a bit more over-steer than they liked: Griffin criticized its “tendency to hang its tail out like wash on the line, and with very little provocation.” Bedard also found that it tended to “hang its tail out during transitions.”
Yet everyone found an unbreakable, confidence-inspiring quality in the 928. Bumps, holes, and differing road surfaces never upset its ride or equilibrium. Lyons described it best: “Little complaints are totally overwhelmed by the tremendous sensation of competence this car exudes.”
That’s high praise for any car, but not necessarily the key to great handling. Great-handling cars should want to be driven hard and should urge their drivers to use their capabilities. The 928S has sufficient reserve within its 3440-pound soul to answer nearly any demand, but it prefers that you not ask too much too often.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

Toyota Celica Supra: Japan Ascending
It’s been four model years now that America’s number-one importer has been claiming this car has “the right stuff.” In most respects we agree. We generally like the Supra, and we were pleased with how well it held its own against the tough opposition it faced in the Angeles Forest.
The fine twin-cam 2.8-liter six remains a large factor in the Supra’s basic appeal. In fact, as one tester noted, “the best part of the car’s handling may be its engine. Always there, always willing, so torquey it almost never asks for a shift. Quiet and smooth, too.” In Japanese fashion, the clutch and gearshift operations are so easy and pleasant they make the whole vehicle seem “user-friendly.”
The famous Supra driver’s seat struck most of us as excellent; the subjective ballot shows that we voted it the best in the test. Everyone liked the overall cockpit ergonomics as well, though some felt the steering wheel could be improved on (wanted: some place to put your thumbs), and one driver thought it high time Toyota rearranged the pedals for easier heel-and-toe operation.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

Steering feel is not this car’s finest point. Nearly everyone noted a numbness in the on-center position while cruising the freeways during the test. The front tires also had a mild tendency to follow longitudinal rain grooves. Off-center, the dead zone was replaced by a firmness that generated a more satisfying sensation; yet when cornering speeds were really cranked up, most wished for more feeling and feedback. “You steer purely by wheel angle,” complained Bedard. “I found myself making unnecessary right-lefts in turns, just because I didn’t have the right information from the steering.”
On the lurch-provoking mountain roads, some testers would have appreciated a lower chassis stance and perhaps stiffer anti-sway bars. Not that the Supra behaves badly in these conditions—it’s hard to find any conditions that make the Supra behave badly—but it does start feeling a little flustered and breathless earlier than a few of its rivals. In extremis handling can get a bit wobbly.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

That’s not because of any lack of basic adhesion. The Potenzas work quite well, and the cornering limit is signaled by a progressive, comparatively mild understeer. This is a benign quality that is not spoiled by the equally progressive, basically mild step-out of the tail when you lift your foot. Very much like the highly controllable 944, and somewhat like the more infamous 911, the Supra can be nicely balanced through a bend with delicate throttle movements. That’s fun and satisfying. “Quite easy to drive like a demon,” noted Sherman. Sharper bumps, though, do induce a fleeting instability while the rear axle takes a set.
The Supra is a jack-of-all-trades sort of car. It doesn’t do any specific thing as well as some other cars, it lacks some final degree of the overall refinement offered by a few in our test, but it does everything across the automotive spectrum well enough to provide genuine driving satisfaction. The fact that the Supra costs less than half as much as most of the machinery in this test doesn’t hurt its case, either.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

Audi Quattro Turbo: All-Wheel Drive, No Jive
This four-wheeling supersedan—considerably improved for ’84—was preceded by an imposing reputation. In many performance areas we were not disappointed.
Most of us, though, had trouble with the seat. Griffin compared the Audi’s front bucket to an orange crate; Ceppos said the seatback seemed to be “ballooning”; others simply complained of inadequate lateral support. Sherman did note that the thigh support was good, and he called the steering wheel “ideal.”
In terms of the steering itself, most testers declared this another car with an on-center dead zone and a lack of feel away from center. Sherman called it too slow. Bedard reported: “There is no effort buildup to coordinate with cornering force. You end up steering by wheel angle only.”

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Aaron KileyCar and Driver

The unhappy steering contributed to the marks the Audi lost on the freeway segments of our test because of the uneasy feeling it generated while changing lanes. Minor steering inputs seemed to cause an excessive amount of body roll, and the car required constant attention to hold a line. In view of the car’s tendency to pitch and wallow, the ride quality struck some as inordinately harsh.
The Quattro’s good side came out on the mountain roads. “Hard to find serious fault,” Csere noted. “A lot of adhesion, great stability, good brakes, excellent turn-in capability, and very good manners.” Ceppos said it didn’t have the cool, calm confidence of, say, the 928, “but you can boogie with it.” Lyons likened the feel to that of the Prelude, where he felt at home and able to go fast immediately, but with acceleration and adhesion added. “More car here than I really need or can use,” he went on. “But, unlike some of those performance cars that give me the same impression, the Quattro Turbo contrives to do it in a friendly way. It doesn’t intimidate. It gives me messages that keep assuring me, ‘Hey, sure, stay with it, buddy. You can handle it.’ ”

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

The road surfaces we encountered did not permit us to test all the potential advantages of four-wheel drive, but it was interesting to play with the three differential-locking options on the twistiest mountain sections. The differences were subtle: with the center and rear diffs locked, there was a comfortable trace of understeer near the limit; with both lockers free (the normal dry-pavement mode), the car seemed comparatively neutral, and there was also a trifle more tail-out available by lifting off the gas pedal.
The turbocharged five-cylinder engine offered plenty of power, even at mile-high altitude, and also contributed a strong-sounding, almost strumming note that kept us impressed with how much machinery was in our hands.
An interesting car, impressive and definitely worth more exploration. The testers agreed that there is a lot of potential left in the design.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

Front-Drive Fans, Unite!
We’re flying at very high altitude here. The Honda Prelude is the only car in this test with front-wheel drive, it’s by far the least expensive, and it has proved more than a match for every car but one.
The Prelude didn’t win outright, but it is so good that it must be considered a true ace. The piercing of California’s mountains by this feisty little rice rocket quickly escalated our studied commentary into a crescendo of glad tidings.
“The variable-assist power steering is very light at low speeds and then progresses to fine firmness at high speeds,” said Griffin. “Tracks better at 80 than at 60.” Csere found the steering “good, tight, with no lost motion. But effort is low. Wheel doesn’t tend to return to center.”
Sherman had high praise for the Prelude: “Great car. Excellent ergonomics. Easy to drive. Good directional stability, but a touch of wander. Quick and responsive off-center. Good linearity.”

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

Bedard liked “this low-effort steering. Sharp enough that you don’t have to worry it—just go on instinct. With the Porsches, you are always conscious of steering.” Ceppos, however, noted that, although the Prelude “doesn’t steer like the cheapest car in the group, it doesn’t quite have the 944’s laser-accurate tracking, either.”
Lyons took a broad view: “No wonder these are so popular. It’s as pretty in its functioning as it is to look at. If you don’t ask too much, the Prelude is steady, comfortable, willing.”
Then we latched onto the mountains.
“Absolutely no treachery,” said Bedard. “It telegraphs every move. A novice could be warned back from disaster.” Ceppos termed the Prelude “one of the nicest-driving all-around cars ever. Nothing tricky about going quickly, but an expert can play the controls to make it do just about anything.” “Dead pedal okay,” said Sherman, but added, “Wheel needs thumb spokes.”

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

“Good grip,” wrote Csere, “but, more important, the Prelude’s extremely secure. Understeer can be killed instantly by just lifting. Brakes strong, progressive. Can be braked and turned at the same time. Generally extremely forgiving—and fast!!!”
“I love it,” said Griffin. “A stupendous value. Sails through this as if there were no obstacles. Far and away the most stable. I’d buy one like a shot and wouldn’t change a thing—well, another 30 hp under the hood would be grins.”
Lyons: “You follow the Lotus in this car, see it wobble, and wonder why. You can corner with the 928 and the 911. Power lets them pull ahead, but not by much.”
In our book, the superb Honda Prelude is the second-best-handling foreign car any amount of money can buy.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

All Hail the Proud Victor
The Porsche 944 is the best-handling imported car. It will easily zig past the near great and easily zag with the truly great in their brightest moments of glory.
Wild-eyed Porschephiles will tell you a win by one of their own was predictable. Haters of the marque will say it’s bogus because C/D inevitably pays homage to all Teutonic machines. But the 944 won overall simply because, in its remarkably complex but also wonderfully integrated way, it has no all-around equal.
“Power steering light but accurate,” said Griffin. “Much road noise—how uncivilized—but steering and chassis ignore pavement trivia.”
Csere: “Fine steering, no lost motion.”
Jazzman Ceppos: “Very refined except for Gene Krupa snare drums over every tar strip and Botts dot. But tracks like a bullet.”

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

“Force buildup just off center is much greater than in manual-steering 911,” said Bedard. “Prefer the 944. Great steering.”
“No steering kick,” said Sherman. “Ergonomics great, though wheel is low. All systems go.”
Lyons found it “hard to believe the 944 is built by the same company that makes the 911—feels modern but inexpensive. Leans too much.”
Sherman: “Confidence-inspiring. Easy to learn. Terrific turn-in, linearity, brakes, engine, dead pedal, ride and handling over bumps. Needs the better thigh retention of optional sport seat. Carves up corners the way you want. Great piece!”
“Miss grip of P7s with P6s,” said Lyons, “and also iron-fist mechanical feel of 911. A boulevardier by comparison, but can play grip at front and back to heart’s content. A benign chassis.”

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

“Unlike our long-term 944 in Michigan, this one understeers too much,” said Griffin. “As a whole, too civilized after 911, but lovely for full-time transport.”
“Lots of grip and balance. Brakes soft in initial travel but quite good,” said Csere.
“Well-rounded athlete,” said Ceppos. “Not outstanding in any category, but fun. I could go for more stability in tail.”
“Pure magic,” said Bedard. “Tells you everything. Neither end lets go suddenly. Very important: excellent coordination between buildup of cornering force and steering effort and angle. A thoroughbred.”
The 944 offers drama to go, but the blip of the driver’s pulse rises only from the rush of emotional reassurance that comes with every new discovery of its sporting behavior.
A driver need not be a speed master to drown happily in the liquid responses of this car. This is a Porsche, to be loved for what it is as well as for what it can do. We have no doubts at all that the 944 is the best imported handler to be found in America.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

Are you surprised by our findings? We certainly were. They make perfect sense when you stop to realize that automobile handling has indeed advanced by leaps and bounds during the past couple of years. The manufacturers inclined to rock back on their laurels and watch the world go by are bound to suffer, while the up-and-comers who eagerly exploit the latest tire and suspension technologies advance their causes tremendously. Porsche is in the thick of things with the best-handling import in all the land, and a couple of mid-pack finishers to boot. The Japanese have managed to bracket the prestigious Audi Quattro with the Honda Prelude’s fantastic second-overall finish and an equally remarkable fourth overall by the Toyota Supra. You’ll notice a rather sharp drop in the subjective scores on the way down to the Formula 1 crowd—Ferrari and Lotus. The 308 Quattrovalvole and the Esprit Turbo are elderly designs, mid-engined or no, and it’s clear that both their interior accommodations and their steering and suspension components are in need of serious attention.
Now that we’ve determined the best-handling domestic-made car and the best-handling import, there’s only one thing left to do. You guessed it: Chevrolet Camaro Z28 versus Porsche 944 at forty paces. As soon as our g-suits are back from the dry cleaner’s, we’ll be back on the road for the grand finale.

Specifications

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MIKE BRADY , THE MANUFACTURER

From the November 1967 issue of Car and Driver.
Last year, we applauded Plymouth for building what we thought was the best looking Detroit car of 1967, the Barracuda. A remarkable feat, considering the Chrysler Corporation’s odd, unstable styling history which, since the Airflow, has been marked by committee-styled cars which, aside from lacking integrity of design, have oscillated between being far out to the point of vulgarity and being timid to the point of sterility—a seemingly endless series of over-compensations for each preceding year. With this background, we were pleasantly surprised by the ‘67 Barracuda, but quite prepared to wait years before Chrysler came up with a worthy successor. We conjured a picture of designers and stylists lying about their studios, spent, from their Barracuda effort, and barely able to create so much as a new bumper for 1968.

Plymouth AAR Cuda

1970 Plymouth ‘Cuda Receives Crazy Paint Job

Glorious History of 1960s American Iron at LeMons

Imagine, therefore, our surprise—again pleasant—when we saw Dodge’s new Charger. Working with Chrysler Corporation’s 117-in. wheelbase “B” series body/chassis, the designers that we’d imagined were worn out have not only achieved far more than a face-lift, they have easily surpassed the mark of excellence set less than a year ago.
The only 1968 car which comes close to challenging the new Charger for styling accolades is the new Corvette, which is remarkably similar to the Charger, particularly when viewed from the rear quarter. But, we give the honors to the Charger for several reasons. First, the Corvette, being a smaller car in both seating capacity and wheelbase, has a much easier time attaining the desired sporty image. Second, Dodge stylists have shown that they can create a car in the current idiom with originality, combining just the right amount of tasteful conformity with that novelty and freshness which attracts attention. Originality takes guts in Dodge’s position as the smaller division of the number three automaker, but the Charger’s aerodynamic wedge theme is not only distinctly new but it is very like the new breed of wind-tunnel tested sports/racing cars which are just now making their debut in the 1967 Can-Am series. Third, while the Charger is a vast improvement over its predecessor, the 1968 Corvette is anticlimactic after the Mako Shark show cars which preceded it.

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MIKE BRADY , THE MANUFACTURER

Chrysler Corporation, then, is flat-out in the automobile business again. The Marlin‑like Charger of the past (really a Coronet with a hastily added fastback roof), and the similarly makeshift Barracuda were grim reminders of the Corporation’s close call with financial disaster in the early Sixties. But the belt-tightening policies of Lynn Townsend—Chrysler’s chief executive since 1961, and more recently Board Chairman—combined with his intense efforts to improve and increase the Corporation’s manufacturing facilities seem to be paying off. The 1967 Barracuda and the new Charger, each with its own distinctive sheet metal now, are evidence of Chrysler’s increasing strength and ability to meet both the financial and creative challenge of the specialty car age.
Specialty cars are conceived from a significantly different planning philosophy than that of the bread-and-butter cars which Detroit used to build exclusively. Bread-and-butter cars are built with the primary intention of offending no potential buyer, rendering the cars largely featureless and unexciting. Specialty cars, on the other hand, are built to please specific groups of customers. We like the more positive philosophy behind the specialty car, and the Charger is chock-full of features with obvious appeal for the performance-minded enthusiast.

Dodge Charger Hellcat Daytona Marked Down to $107K

Charger Hellcat Widebody Loves to Smoke

Dodge Charger R/T Scat Pack vs. Kia Stinger GT

The aerodynamic appearance of the Charger (it’s as aerodynamically slippery as it looks, according to Chrysler’s engineers) is accented by a rear spoiler combined with a truncated rear end for a Kamm effect—a design approach which has become almost mandatory in modern racing cars. The Charger takes on the nose-down appearance common to both NASCAR and NHRA, and the bulging rear fenders should accommodate the racing tires used in both drag and stock car racing with a minimum of rework. The greenhouse, following the sharply curved side-glass, slants steeply towards the center of the car, very reminiscent of Le Mans Ferraris, particularly when viewed from the rear. A tunnel-type backlight is used instead of a pure fastback (a styling feature fast going out of fashion from over-use). The smaller rear window of the tunnel roof also gives much less distortion to rear vision than a steeply slanted fastback window.

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THE MANUFACTURER

Further visual performance identity is achieved by the use of a racing-style gas filler cap mounted high on the left rear quarter, and quasi fog/driving/parking and turn signal lights mounted low in the front bumper. Matte black paint is used extensively in the grille and around the tail lights. Full wheel cut-outs, fat tires on 6-inch rims, and simulated engine compartment exhaust vents in the hood (which also house turn signal indicator lights, like the Mustang GT) and at the leading edge of the doors complete the Charger’s complement of visually “in” features.

Specifications

Specifications
1968 Dodge Charger Hemi
VEHICLE TYPE front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 4-passenger sports sedan with all-steel integral body/chassis
PRICE AS TESTED N/A
ENGINE TYPE pushrod water-cooled V-8, cast-iron block and headsDisplacement 426 in3, 6981 cm3Power 425 hp @ 5000 rpmTorque 490 lb-ft @ 4000 rpm
TRANSMISSION 3-speed automatic
DIMENSIONS Wheelbase: 117.0 inLength: 208.0 inWidth: 76.6 inHeight: 53.2 inCurb weight: 4035 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS 30 mph: 1.7 sec60 mph: 4.8 sec90 mph: 10.0 sec¼-mile: 13.5 sec @ 105 mphTop speed (est): 156 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 274 ft

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Marc UrbanoCar and Driver

It’s turbocharged. It’s supercharged. It’s front engine and mid-motor. It’s gas and electric, eight speed and one speed. It’s front-wheel drive, all-wheel drive, and rear-wheel drive. If you want to collect all those attributes in your driveway, you could buy a Tesla Model 3, a Porsche 911, and, obviously, a 2002 Mazda Millennia. Or you could get a Volvo XC90 T8, which checks all those boxes plus the one for an Orrefors crystal shift lever. You didn’t get one of those in a Millennia.

HIGHS: Impressively quick and efficient for a big SUV, still one of the best interiors out there.

The Volvo T8’s 313-hp, 2.0-liter inline-four—supercharged and turbocharged—powers the front wheels through an eight-speed automatic transmission. Out back, an 87-hp electric motor spins the rear axle, with the pair combining for 400 horsepower and 472 pound-feet of torque. Because there’s no physical connection between the front and rear axles, a T8 running in electric mode is rear-wheel drive, just like an old Volvo 240 wagon. Break out the Grateful Dead stickers.

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Marc UrbanoCar and Driver

2020 Volvo XC90: Product of Many Tiny Updates

Luxury SUV Comparison: Q7 vs. X5, RR Sport, XC90

When an all-wheel-drive car can disengage its front axle, we tend to think “drift mode!” That’s the case here—albeit in the sense of an untethered trawler gently drifting away from the dock. The T8 is EPA-rated for 18 miles of electric range (we eked 21 miles out of our test car), but there’s no escaping the fact that you’re driving a 5142-pound vehicle with 87 horsepower. The plug-in XC90 tops out at 78 mph in electric mode—also the max speed at which the electric motor engages in hybrid mode—but in practical terms the EV function is for low-speed pursuits, like navigating the Jazzercise parking lot or coasting down Main Street in Greenwich, Connecticut.

LOWS: Portly curb weight, pricey with options, not much of an EV.

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Marc UrbanoCar and Driver

It’s much more fulfilling to let the Wonder Twins activate, summoning both the internal-combustion engine and the electric motor to goose the XC90 off the line like a startled elk. We clocked a zero-to-60-mph time of 4.9 seconds and a quarter-mile pass in 13.6 seconds at 102 mph, numbers that seem kind of hilarious for a three-row hybrid SUV with no outward pretensions of performance. The XC90 T8 could certainly surprise a few sports cars in a stoplight drag race. And on the skidpad, our T8 generated more grip than a Camaro Z/28. Okay, we’re talking about a 1977 Camaro Z/28, which pulled .74 g. The XC90 managed only .77 g, so maybe don’t go prowling canyon roads with it.
However, thanks to the mid-aft position of the electric motor and the 9.1-kWh battery, the T8 does arrive at a nice front-to-rear balance, with only 52.0 percent of its weight resting on the front wheels. That battery gains some capacity for 2020, thus constituting the biggest hardware upgrade for 2020. The brakes also get electronic control for the hydraulic circuits, which allowed Volvo to tune a linear pedal feel as the braking blends electric regeneration with the conventional discs. You really don’t notice anything unusual about the brake feel, which is the best thing you can say about a system that’s combining regenerative braking with old-school friction.

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Marc UrbanoCar and Driver

There are also some minor cosmetic changes, like a new grille, and you can now get a six-passenger interior layout with second-row captain’s chairs. But Volvo didn’t do anything too radical, given that the XC90 has aged exceptionally well since its 2016 debut. In terms of design, the XC90 is still competitive with the best of its class, inside and out. Sure, the front seat massage function only works on the backrest, but maybe you can get over that. Our fully maxed-out Inscription model was as beautifully trimmed as cars costing twice as much, which is impressive since it costs quite a bit itself: $86,790 as tested. But come on, you need leather-covered sun visors, right? If you can forego those and other treats, like the $3200 Bowers & Wilkins sound system and the $1800 air springs at all four corners, an XC90 T8 can be had for as little as $68,495, not counting the current $5419 federal tax credit garnered by the plug-in powertrain. Which seems pretty reasonable for a three-row luxury SUV that rips the quarter-mile just 0.4 second slower than the 475-hp Dodge Durango SRT we tested and gets 25 MPGe.

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Marc UrbanoCar and Driver

Ah yes, fuel economy. With plug-ins, quantifying efficiency gets tricky, because it all depends on how you use the vehicle—as we proved by gaming a Lincoln Aviator PHEV beyond an (indicated) 999 mpg. Run short trips around town with plenty of charging, and you’ll probably see nice numbers. Drive coast to coast on the highway with no charging, and you’re basically dragging around extra weight—although the big Volvo did post 29 mpg on our 75-mph highway fuel-economy test, bettering its federal estimate by 2 mpg. Over more than 1000 miles of mixed driving, charging as often as possible, we averaged 25 MPGe.
That’s well short of the EPA’s 55-MPGe combined rating for the T8. We did note that the T8 is efficient in regenerating electricity and has an effective charge mode that uses the 2.0-liter to replenish the battery while driving. We also noted that the plug-in Volvos, this one included, tend to wrestle with thermal management while charging, running cooling fans for the battery pretty much constantly while plugged in. Sometimes the fans start running even when the car is parked and unplugged. That’s probably good for battery longevity, but the XC90 no doubt burns plenty of watts staying cool before it even turns a wheel.

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Marc UrbanoCar and Driver

Like we said, it’s a complicated powertrain. And plug-in hybrids can often seem like they pursue complication for its own sake, adding weight and power in equal measures to end up nearly back where they started. But the T8 offers sizable advantages in both speed and efficiency compared to its non-hybrid counterpart, the XC90 T6 AWD. The last time we tested one of those, it posted a 6.4-second run to 60 mph and 17 mpg overall. The T8 is a major improvement on both fronts. Just don’t expect too much from its electric drift mode.

Specifications

Specifications
2020 Volvo XC90 T8 E-AWD Inscription
VEHICLE TYPE front-engine, mid-motor, rear- or all-wheel-drive, 6-passenger, 4-door wagon
PRICE AS TESTED $86,790 (base price: $74,795)
POWERTRAIN turbocharged, supercharged, and intercooled DOHC 16-valve 2.0-liter inline-4, 313 hp, 295 lb-ft; permanent-magnet synchronous AC motor, 87 hp, 177 lb-ft; combined output, 400 hp, 472 lb-ft; 9.1-kWh lithium-ion battery pack
TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic (front), single-speed direct drive (rear)
CHASSIS Suspension (F/R): control arms/multilinkBrakes (F/R): 14.4-in vented disc/13.4-in vented disc/discTires: Pirelli Scorpion Verde All Season, 275/40R-21 107V M+S VOL
DIMENSIONS Wheelbase: 117.5 inLength: 195.0 inWidth: 75.7 inHeight: 69.9 inPassenger volume: 131 ft3Cargo volume: 11 ft3Curb weight: 5142 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS 60 mph: 4.9 sec100 mph: 12.9 sec130 mph: 31.9 secRolling start, 5–60 mph: 5.6 secTop gear, 30–50 mph: 2.9 secTop gear, 50–70 mph: 3.8 sec1/4 mile: 13.6 sec @ 102 mphTop speed (mfr’s claim): 140 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 188 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.77 gStanding-start accel times omit 1-ft rollout of 0.3 sec.
C/D FUEL ECONOMY Observed: 25 MPGe75-mph highway driving, EV/hybrid mode: 73 MPGe/29 mpgHighway range, EV/hybrid mode: 20/530 miles
EPA FUEL ECONOMY Combined/city/highway: 27/26/28 mpgCombined gasoline+electricity: 55 MPGeEV range: 18 miles

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From the June 1997 issue of Car and Driver.
“I’m a little worried if you mention Paul Newman,” says Ross Converse, a former aircraft mechanic whose primary business since 1988 has been selling simple kits to slot Mustang V-8s into rear­-drive Volvos.

Best Station Wagons of 2020

A Visual History of Volvo Station Wagons

The Sportiest, Coolest Volvos of All Time

Converse, a soft-spoken 46-year-old Mainer, is more concerned that Indy-car team owner and actor Newman will be angry with him for divulging a secret: Known fast-car lover and salad-dressing-­and-salsa salesman Newman tools around his home base in Connecticut in a V-8-powered Volvo 960 wagon built by Converse.
See, one of the advantages of having a V-8-powered Volvo, especially in the Northeast, is that Swedish cars blend into the traffic like Toyotas in Tokyo. Cops and autograph hounds normally tend not to notice ubiquitous Volvo station wagons.
The other reason is this: A Volvo wagon weighs only 100 pounds more with an iron-block Mustang V-8, so performance improves. In fact, one of the two Converse-built Volvo wagons we tested got to 60 mph in 5.9 seconds. It was a special version, with a Powerdyne Automotive Products centrifugal supercharger driven by a shielded, toothed belt. It was as quick as the convertible Mustang Cobra we tested last July. In fact, that Volvo got down the quarter-mile in 14.3 second at a trap speed of 100 mph, faster than July’s Cobra. Top speed for the station wagon is 145 mph. That’s 1 mph faster than the sizzling 850 Turbo wagon we tested last March. Our second test subject from Converse had a stock Mustang engine and a four-speed automatic; it made it to 60 mph in a still-zoomy 7.4 seconds. A new 740 Turbo wagon reached 60 mph in 8.0 seconds and took the quarter in 15.9 at 85 mph back in May 1985. Throttle response in both cars is quick, and you can spin the stock-size tires at most speeds on a whim.

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Jim CaiozzoCar and Driver

In eight years, Converse has built 50 of the V-8-powered cars and has sold 150 kits for do-it-your-selfers. It’s by nature not a lucrative business, since he charges just $750 for the parts or $1700 for doing the engine swap himself. The supercharger is a popular upgrade priced at $2500, and it takes two to three hours to install, says Converse. Our blown test car also had 89,000 miles on the odometer, making it relatively new for the average Converse conversion.
“It was a lot of fun riding with, you know, Newman, as he slid the car through some corners at 90 mph,” Converse recalls, reveling in the pure adolescence of one shakedown trip with the 72-year-old Newman. But the low-key Converse gets nervous about us mentioning his famous clients. The trouble started when another Indy-car team owner, late-night TV host David Letterman, bought one of Converse’s V-8-powered Volvo wagons and was so excited that he let it slip—to the whole world—that Newman had one, too. Appearing on the now-defunct Jon Stewart Show, Letterman revealed: “Six months ago, Paul Newman calls up. ‘Dave, I’m thinking about getting a Volvo station wagon, with a Ford 302 V-8 the size of a small piano. Do you want one? ‘”

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Jim CaiozzoCar and Driver

Letterman continued: “Paul told me from 20 to 100 [mph] you can chew anybody’s ass. What circumstance would Paul find himself in while driving around in a Volvo station wagon where he feels he’s got to chew somebody’s ass?”
Letterman was chastised for his loose lips: “The guy gets a little cranky about mentioning his name,” Letterman told interviewer Al Roker on CNBC later. Newman, you see, wanted a car he could drive fast but not be noticed in. But Letterman revealed that Newman had already been stopped by the cops. “It’s like driving a go-kart or a jet fighter,” adds the toothy TV star.
Converse designed the package to be an affordable way to preserve otherwise ­sound Volvos; Newman wanted a supercharger and a bunch of engine tweaks, cost no object. Cost, however, was the major motivator for Converse’s conversions. Converse lives on a dirt road on the outskirts of Portland and does all his work in a modest-sized garage. Modest, that is, to a car fan like Newman. Extravagant, perhaps, to Converse, who once lived for two years in the Maine woods in the back of a delivery truck. He also lived in a BMW 1600 sedan for a few weeks in the 1970s and spent a couple years as the live-in mechanic for a wealthy gentleman in North Carolina (“It sure was a lot warmer there than in Maine”). He went to school to learn to be an aircraft mechanic, but his Yankee-inventor, hot-rodder personality became frustrated with strict FAA regulations that discourage the hot rodding of airplane engines.

The five-speed shifter from the Ford transmission pokes up through a Volvo shift boot, but the fabricated shift lever Converse adds to the transmission uses the Mustang shift knob.

Converse is always eager to recycle. In high school, he bolted an aluminum Buick V-8 into a worn Datsun 510. He built his first V-8 Volvo for his 75-year-old mother. At the time, Converse noticed there were plenty of the strong, Swedish wagons available in salvage yards in the Northeast, most suffering from engines that hadn’t been maintained properly. “Diesels blow up all the time,” he says. “No, they do. I wanted to replace a diesel engine with one that was absolutely cheap to maintain, and if it made more power, then all the better.”
He chose the Mustang V- 8 over a small-block Chevy simply because the distributor location on the Ford motor fit more easily under the Volvo hood.
Converse makes a wiring harness that plugs into both the Volvo chassis and the Ford engine harnesses, and solders a 33-cent resistor into the tachometer circuit board of the Volvo so it will read properly with the Ford V-8. The five-speed shifter from the Ford transmission pokes up through a Volvo shift boot, but the fabricated shift lever Converse adds to the transmission uses the Mustang shift knob. “We love recycling parts, using cheap parts and covering them up,” he explains.

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The Volvo driveshaft is shortened and balanced, and a new yoke is added to mate it to the Ford transmission. The rear end remains stock. “Volvo uses Dana 30 guts in its housings,” he says, which makes him confident about the durability of the pieces. Engine mounts are fabricated from mild steel.
Our supercharged test wagon had one stock Ford catalytic converter mated to the stock-Volvo resonator for exhausting the right bank of cylinders, and the left bank was plumbed with the second stock Mustang catalytic converter and the stock ­Mustang muffler. “I’m always trying to figure out how to reuse things,” says Converse. So, none of the exhaust pieces went to waste. The downside is you wind up with two tailpipes that look completely different.
Newman’s and Letterman’s cars began life as brand-new 960 wagons, but most of Converse’s customers own high-mileage Volvos. They come to Converse because they are concerned about the reliability of their well-used drivetrains, he says. Our supercharged test car was a solid and rattle-free 1990 740 Turbo that rode soundly enough to belie its seven years of age. Its V-8 and five-speed were from a 1991 Mustang. The normally aspirated tester was a 1986 740, with a 1989 Mustang powertrain.
High-mileage Volvo wagons are cheap: “Anything with 240,000 miles on it is only $2000 to buy,” says Converse. “We’ve converted a number of cars that had over 200,000 miles on them. We go around on an anti-squeak campaign, replacing suspension and body bushings. At 200,000 miles, a Volvo body is still good, but what makes it feel old is rattles and squeaks.”
And complaints from famous folks who don’t appreciate the frugality of the conversion as much as they do the performance.
Converse Engineering, 14 Caldwell Street, Portland, Maine 04103; 207-828-6795.

Specifications

Specifications
1990 Volvo 740 Converse Supercharged V-81986 Volvo 740 Converse V-8
VEHICLE TYPE front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door wagon
PRICE AS TESTED $26,000 (supercharged V-8)$10,000 (V-8)
ENGINES supercharged pushrod 16-valve 4.9-liter V-8, 287 hp (mfr’s est); pushrod 16-valve 4.9-liter V-8, 205 hp
TRANSMISSIONS5-speed manual (supercharged V-8), 4-speed automatic (V-8)
DIMENSIONS Wheelbase: 109.1 inLength: 188.4 inCurb weights: 3509 lb (supercharged V-8); 3408 lb (V-8)
C/D TEST RESULTS (SUPERCHARGED V-8) 60 mph: 5.9 sec100 mph: 14.4 sec130 mph: 32.5 secRolling start, 5–60 mph: 5.9 sec1/4 mile: 14.3 sec @ 100 mphTop speed (drag limited): 145 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 189 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.80 g
C/D TEST RESULTS (NATURALLY ASPIRATED V-8) 60 mph: 7.4 sec100 mph: 20.9 sec130 mph: N/ARolling start, 5–60 mph: 7.4 sec1/4 mile: 15.7 sec @ 89 mphTop speed: N/ABraking, 70–0 mph: 212 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.77 g

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Left hand at 11 o’clock, right at one o’clock, forearms straight down with elbows at the bottom of the steering wheel. And that wheel is up against the driver’s chest. It’s the classic early pickup-truck-driving position. The way a truck without power steering and a confined cab had to be driven. Leverage was needed to steer, and there just wasn’t any room to push the seat back. It’s also the driving position for Icon’s hard-core, high-end, obsessive-compulsive Reformer re-imagination of the short-bed, regular cab 1970 Ford F-100 4×4.
Jonathan Ward’s Icon brand started as an offshoot of his classic Toyota Land Cruiser restoration and service business. It’s now grown beyond boutique status to become a Southern California luxury brand. What Singer is to Porsche 911s, Icon is to old Ford Broncos, Chevrolet and GMC trucks from the early 1950s, Toyota FJs, and whatever else captures Ward’s imagination or sparks the whimsy of a well-heeled customer.

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Jessica Lynn WalkerCar and Driver

Keep in mind that what Icon does is re-engineer and add overwhelming detail to old vehicles. What makes the Icon machines compelling is that they work so incredibly well. But there are built-in limitations.

Resto’ Legends: Singer 911, Icon Bronco, E-Type

1969 Chevrolet Camaro Red Devil Pro Touring

C/D Archives: Tuner Cars Tested from 0 to 150 to 0

What’s easiest about modifying old cars and trucks is that, compared to new vehicles, they suck. So making them better is a pretty straightforward proposition: replace the archaic pieces with newer, better stuff. For this F-100, that starts with an all-new ladder frame built by Art Morrison Enterprises in Fife, Washington. It’s a stretched version of the frame Icon uses under its Broncos, which C/D drove back in 2013. And that 23-inch stretch pays off.
Like the Icon Bronco, the F-100 uses Eibach coil springs at all four corners. In front, the Dana 44 solid axle is supported by a radius-arm setup and a Panhard rod. The rear, beefier Dana 60 axle is suspended on a four-link system. Fox Racing shocks dampen the ride motions. Big-ass Brembo brake rotors are aboard to do, well, the braking. They’re controlled by a Wilwood master cylinder and Hydratech booster. The wheels are 18-inch alloys painted to resemble the original steelies and finished with the original-style Ford hubcaps. The adoption of the coil-spring suspension necessitated raising the bed floor two inches to accommodate the spring towers. (The F-100, like most four-wheel-drive pickups of the era, originally came with leaf springs front and rear.)

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Jessica Lynn WalkerCar and Driver

While the suspension system is virtually identical to the Icon Bronco’s, the Bronco has a dinky 92-inch wheelbase. This short bed F-100 puts 115 inches between the front and rear axles. The stretch gives the pickup a much-settled, easygoing ride both on-road and off. The Bronco often feels nervous, like it’s walking on its tiptoes. The F-100, on the other hand, is settled and confident. This pickup is a better everyday machine, even if it may sacrifice some of the Bronco’s off-road nimbleness.
That raised bed floor also made it easier to fit a fuel tank behind the rear axle and between the frame rails. When Ford built this truck, the tank was in the cab behind the bench seat, where a good whack could atomize the fuel and potentially ignite and incinerate the occupants. Not good. The new tank is much safer and uses a filler positioned in the bed.

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Jessica Lynn WalkerCar and Driver

Again like Icon’s Bronco, the F-100 is powered by Ford’s 5.0-liter, DOHC, 32-valve V-8. Most prominently featured in the Mustang GT, the Coyote V-8 is rated at 460 horsepower in the 2020 edition of that pony car. The version in this truck, Icon says, is rated at 426 horsepower. “We’ve fattened up the torque curve,” Ward explained. “We’ve become pretty good at managing the fuel map.” Behind it is a Ford AOD four-speed automatic transmission, which in turn feeds an Advanced Adaptors Atlas II two-speed transfer case. Engaging the four-wheel-drive system takes a mighty tug on the transfer case’s shift lever and getting out of the truck to twist the knobs on the manual front hubs.
Ford may be selling 10-speed automatics in its cars and trucks now, but the AOD four-speed automatic is better than good enough. The driver will never miss the other six gears. And really, today’s high gear-count transmissions are about fuel economy ratings, not driving manners.

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Jessica Lynn WalkerCar and Driver

Ford introduced this body style (the fifth-generation F-Series) for the 1967 model year and made several clever design decisions. The big clamshell-style hood covers the fender tops so there’s no sloppy panel gaps along the edges. And the drip rail around the doors continues around the front of the truck to disguise any roof seams. After all, Ford built 626,585 of these things during calendar year 1970 and was selling them cheap. The factory didn’t have time to caress every single body panel. Jonathan Ward, on the other hand, was paid beaucoup bucks to make this one example perfect. So, his shop put in the hours to perfect the panel fit and drench the thing in enough coats of paint to repel artillery fire. Ward’s crew started with a sweet 1970 truck in very good condition and didn’t stop futzing until it glistened.
The full futz continues inside the cab, which appears factory with some slight exaggerations. The knobs were never this shiny when they left Ford, the upholstery so precisely tailored, and the gauges never so clearly marked and legible. An air-conditioning system using Vintage Air components keeps things cool while the close-cropped carpets feel so downy it’s a shame to wear shoes.

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Jessica Lynn WalkerCar and Driver

The Coyote V-8 sort of yelps to life and settles into a burbling idle. The column-mounted shifter snicks into drive, and the F-100 barks a bit and almost swaggers forward. Throttle response is good, the brakes bite with authority, and the steering is light and precise if somewhat mute.
Here’s the truck’s main drawback: It’s still a 1970 Ford cab. That driving position described in the first paragraph isn’t a choice, it’s a necessity. There simply isn’t enough cab to get comfortable by 21st century standards. One problem is that the restored stock steering wheel, necessarily huge in the days of unassisted steering, is simply too big in diameter for the current power-steering system. A two-inch reduction in diameter would make the steering feel more modern and open up some room for those of us carrying thunderous thighs down there.

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Jessica Lynn WalkerCar and Driver

Aerodynamics were a dark art when this F-100 was in production. There’s wind noise around the drip rails, and the big side mirrors are out there catching wind, too. Nothing so obtrusive as to detract from the truck’s personality. But it’s not a new F-150 King Ranch, either.
We’re guessing here, but the zero-to-60-mph time is likely in the high six-second range. But slamming the accelerator pedal isn’t what this is all about. There’s a confidence and even-temperedness to this F-100 that nothing built in 1970 could ever approach.
Exposure to off-road conditions was limited. But there’s good reason to expect fine manners there, too.

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Jessica Lynn WalkerCar and Driver

Managing one’s expectations is the toughest part about re-tailoring an older vehicle for the 21st century. It’s easy to make a 1970 Ford F-100 better, but there are limits to how good it can get. There’s still a lot of 1970 in it.
Icon isn’t shy about charging for its design expertise and fabrication skills. The build bill on this truck is up around $400,000, though the exact cost is between Icon and its customer. That could buy a really nice Rolls-Royce, but who’d want that when you can get an F-100?
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Its engine is almost nothing, a single cylinder that’s air cooled, fuel injected, and displaces only 125 cubic centimeters. That’s less than eight cubic inches. If it makes 10 horsepower, it would be overachieving. But it doesn’t have that much motorcycle to push around since, as Honda says, the 2020 Super Cub C125 weighs only 240 pounds. This is the first production vehicle I’ve evaluated for C/D that weighs less than I do.
Since the original Cub went on sale in 1958, Honda has built more than 110 million of them. It is by far the best-selling self-propelled vehicle of all time. In the United States, it’s been sold as a harmless thing to play with through the summer. It’s the Honda upon which you meet the nicest people. It’s happy and fun, designed to be operated by someone wearing tight white jeans, boat shoes, and a blond ponytail. But in Asia and other parts of the world, it’s a truck, an F-150 for squeaking through crowded streets delivering food orders or lugging goods from farm to market.

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Jessica Lynn WalkerCar and Driver

Honda’s Super Cub and Monkey Bikes Are Coming Back

Honda Produces 100 Millionth Super Cub!

Even more than the Civic, Accord, or a HHT25SLTAT lawn trimmer, it’s the Cub that established Honda around the world. Over the past 63 model years, Honda has built Cubs with engines ranging from a nominal 50 cc to this relatively beastly 125. The four-stroke, single-overhead-cam, two-valve engine itself is shared with other small Honda motorcycles, including the super-adorable 2021 Monkey and the goofball Grom. Besides its classic step-through design, the big advantage the Super Cub has over its siblings is its 17-inch alloy wheels and relatively long 48.9-inch wheelbase, which make it more stable and comfortable, and make it more of an actual motorcycle and not a moped.
While it looks like the Cubs of old, Honda pulled the original from the United States in 1974. This is an all-new machine that Honda introduced to the American market in 2019. Assembled in Thailand, every plastic body panel, every engine casting, and every other component is beautifully finished and impeccably built.

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Jessica Lynn WalkerCar and Driver

Modern touches include a proximity key so that the Super Cub can be started simply by turning on the ignition and touching the switch on the right side of the handlebar to engage the electric starter. The front disc brake is equipped with anti-lock control, but the rear drum is on its own. All of the lighting systems are LEDs, and they work exceedingly well. The instrumentation consists of a speedometer, some warning lights, and a small digital display that doubles as a clock. There’s only a single seat on the Super Cub and no place to store anything. Well, there is a small compartment on the side that’s just big enough to fit the owner’s manual. A chrome rack that bolts to the front of the leg shield is a $73 accessory.
Throwing on a borrowed Arai Classic-V helmet that neatly matched the seat top, I looked like a background extra from Mel Brooks’ Spaceballs. But there’s something emboldening about a helmet no matter how funny you look. I felt a sense of safety as I got onto a motorcycle for the first time in about 20 years.

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Jessica Lynn WalkerCar and Driver

The Super Cub is amazingly easy to ride. The four-speed sequential transmission operates with a lever at the rider’s left foot. Neutral is at the bottom, and the rider toes up for first and keeps going up until it runs out of gears. If your toe is hypersensitive, the shifter can also be operated with your heel on the opposite end of the lever. A centrifugal clutch and spring-loaded clutch plate handle engaging drive, so the rider can concentrate on keeping a death grip on the left side of the handlebar. The right side is capped with a conventional twist throttle and a lever to operate the front brake. The rear brake is operated by a foot pedal on the right.
Comfortably upright, the riding position compromised the aerodynamics of my torso. Rolling into the throttle, the Super Cub pulls away with no drama. Of course, with a bit less than 10 horsepower available acceleration is hardly intimidating. First gear runs out pretty quickly, but second is good for up to about 30 mph. Third will take the bike all the way up to its terminal velocity of about 60 mph—assuming the rider bends forward to cheat the wind. Fourth is best used as a cruising gear on flat roads or downhill.

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Jessica Lynn WalkerCar and Driver

During my time with the Super Cub, I rode it for 230 miles and put 1.4 gallons of fuel into its 1.0-gallon tank. Including the gallon of gas that was in it when the bike was delivered, that works out to 96 mpg. The total fuel bill came to $7.40, which is kind of awesome.
That in mind, one frustrating element of the Super Cub is filling that tank. The filler lives under the hinged seat and is accessed by pressing a single release button. That’s no problem. But there’s a support rod that runs across the tank just below the filler, and that makes it impossible to insert the fuel nozzle all the way in. That may not be much of a problem in other parts of the country, but in California where vapor recovery systems are mandatory, it makes for an awkward amount of finagling to pull the rubber vapor hose up enough to allow fuel to flow freely. But since the tank is small, it doesn’t take long to fill it.

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Jessica Lynn WalkerCar and Driver

This is a stable, easygoing motorcycle for puttering around a town like my Santa Barbara home. Its feathery weight means it’s easy to pull up onto its center stand for parking. Nearly everyone you meet wants to talk about it, and even at full speed it never feels ragged or strained. It corners securely, allows greater lean angles than I have the courage to exploit, and rides comfortably over road irregularities. As my re-entry point to motorcycling, it’s about perfect. And at $3839 the 2020 model is priced at about a tenth that of the average new car. The 2021 models are already arriving and will cost $100 more.
Motorcycle riders make for better car drivers. You can’t afford to be distracted on a motorcycle—no Bluetooth chatter full of podcasts and pundits (unless you wire your helmet), no eating an Egg McMuffin, no daydreaming. On a motorcycle, a keen situational awareness of everything around you emerges almost naturally, and there are so many inattentive drivers out there that stark terror is only one idiot pulling out of a Starbucks driveway. The intense concentration necessary, even on a bike as benign as the Super Cub, will follow you when you get back behind the wheel of a car.
As for meeting friendly people on this Honda? Well, I can be kind of surly.
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