Car Reviews

From the February 1997 issue of Car and Driver.I have a friend, a Manhattan lawyer, who grunts his hunter-green Range Rover into four-wheel low-low to traverse a brief stretch of potholed dirt road on the approach to our upstate New York driveway. It’s 50 yards of “off-roading,” for which a Vermonter in a Caprice wouldn’t even lift off the throttle, but it’s the only polishing the gears in my attorney amigo’s transfer case ever get. HIGHS: Supple, cushy highway ride in a cabin that whispers “Q45,” state-of-the-art all-wheel-drive mechanicals.The typical Infiniti QX4, the world’s newest upscale sport­-ute—the category-within-a-category that we now call LSUV, “L” for “luxury”—probably won’t even go that far off the road. Leathery trimmings, a CD changer and a Bose sound system, and a superb highway ride so pervade this machine that it’s difficult to imagine anyone bramble-brushing its paint job, muddying the carpeting, or dirtying the stylish three­-spoke alloys. Indeed, Infiniti rationalizes the ample slathering of imitation wood trim in the cabin by calling it a “further element of ruggedness, so as not to let the occupants forget they are in a sport-­utility.” Which they otherwise might. Still, the QX4 is a fully capable off­-roader, with a sophisticated new four­-wheel-drive system biased toward trans­parent highway performance, presumably for the day you simply must cross a wet Hamptons lawn to reach valet parking at the wedding reception. To say the QX4 is nothing more than a Nissan Pathfinder carrying around $9900 worth of leather, imitation wood, and elec­tronics perhaps misses the point, although certainly there is a Pathfinder under the aggressively restyled grille and body cladding. (Much of the marketing motiva­tion for the LSUV class is the under­standable desire of Infiniti, Lexus, and Acura dealers to share in the profit their mainstream counterparts are accruing from standard SUVs.) The excellent new-generation Pathfinder serves as a platform for a totally recalibrated five-link, coil-spring rear suspension that, in combination with the independent front struts and a lot of ride-control engi­neering, provides the QX4 with what is arguably the most com­fortable, most compliant, most refined, and yes, most luxurious ride of any sport-utility vehicle in the world. LOWS: Big box, little engine; lots of leather, carpeting, and wood-grain to push around.Nor did the QX4’s four­-wheel-drive system come out of a pickup-truck parts bin. It’s in fact derived from the electronic all-wheel-drive system used in the hot Nissan Skyline GT-R coupe sold in Japan—one of the more desirable cars off limits to the U.S. In the “auto” setting of the three-position dash switch (two-wheel drive, automatic operation, and locked center differential), a wet multiplate clutch in the center diff apportions power to the front wheels as well as the rears, depending not only on slippage but also on throttle opening and engine rpm. It does all this not in preset steps but via seamless variable torque splitting. This All-Mode four-wheel-drive system is not shared with the Pathfinder. No apology is needed for the QX4’s handling. There’s none of the hobby­horsing of some short-wheelbase utes or the high-roll-center slackness of others with necessarily long off-road suspension travel. The QX4 feels like . . . well, like a tall car. For all the real estate they take up on the planet, SUVs like the QX4 are surprisingly inefficient people movers. The QX4 is really a slightly cramped four-person vehicle—though there are belts for three in the back—and rear head and foot room are a bit limited.You really have to crank small-engine SUVs to get what would in any car be considered subpar acceleration. It’s true of the iron-block two-­valve 3.3-liter QX4 as well, whether freeway merging or approaching the wall of aerodynamic reluctance that begins to solidify at about 70 mph—0 to 60 mph takes twelve seconds. Admittedly, the 168-hp V-6 is cammed and tuned for low-speed torque in an odd nod to potential off-road use. So you’ll be paying about $38,000 (loaded) for a vehicle because it has boon­docks capabilities that may rarely be used, and it will be lumbered with performance around which a Neon will run brightly colored rings. But at least the QX4 is vastly quieter than its more utilitarian competi­tion, so you’re spared the roaring, whin­ing, trapped-inside-an-air-conditioner cacophony of lesser SUVs. The luxury-SUV market is a special and limited one, for unlike most luxury sedans and coupes, the contenders offer not much more in pure performance than do their ple­beian counterparts. Most buyers demand a bit more for their money. More Luxury SUV Reviews From the ArchiveThe Acura SLX (née Isuzu Trooper), the Honda Passport (née Isuzu Rodeo), the Lexus LX450 (née Toyota Land Cruiser), and now the badge-engineered QX4 (née Pathfinder) join a category long served by Land Rover. These vehicles also compete with the image-enhanced Mercury Mountaineer, and by next fall, the Mercedes-Benz M-class will attempt to redefine the whole LSUV market with its unique Daimler-Benz cachet. There are signs that the SUV market is finally nearing saturation—Ford’s offer of Explorer rebates, for one—but the LSUV niche will remain viable as long as there are buyers who absolutely, positively must have a rolling oxymoron that makes few compromises in highway ride, inte­rior quietude, cabin luxury, or—it’s true—off-road capability. VERDICT: World’s most expensive—and most comfortable—Pathfinder.Arrow pointing downArrow pointing downSpecificationsSpecifications
1997 Infiniti QX4Vehicle Type: front-engine, rear/4-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door wagon
PRICE
Base/As Tested: $36,209/$37,872Options: Premium Sport package (power sunroof; heated front seats, limited-slip rear differential), $1650; luxury tax on option, $13
ENGINESOHC 12-valve V-6, iron block and aluminum heads, port fuel injectionDisplacement: 200 in3, 3275 cm3Power: 168 hp @ 4800 rpmTorque: 196 lb-ft @ 2800 rpm 
TRANSMISSION4-speed automatic
CHASSIS
Suspension, F/R: struts/rigid axleBrakes, F/R: 10.9-in vented disc/11.7-in drumTires: Bridgestone Dueler H/TP245/70SR-16
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 106.3 inLength: 183.9 inWidth: 72.4 inHeight: 70.7 inPassenger Volume, F/R: 52/39 ft3Cargo Volume, Behind F/R: 85/38 ft3Curb Weight: 4258 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 12.0 sec1/4-Mile: 18.7 sec @ 72 mph100 mph: 71.0 secRolling Start, 5–60 mph: 12.4 secTop Gear, 30–50 mph: 6.0 secTop Gear, 50–70 mph: 10.0 secTop Speed (drag ltd): 100 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 205 ftRoadholding, 300-ft Skidpad: 0.70 g 
C/D FUEL ECONOMY
Observed: 15 mpg
EPA FUEL ECONOMYCity/Highway: 15/19 mpg 
C/D TESTING EXPLAINED More

From the July 1994 issue of Car and Driver.Riding in a hearse—all 21 feet of it—is a harrowing experience. Not because the thing is so large that we discussed photographing it by satellite. And not because it’s morbid or ghoulish. But because the word “hearse” is derived from “harrows,” which were framelike things that held candles. Then the name “harrows” was applied to the frame used to carry the coffin from the house to the church. And then anything used to trans­port a coffin became a harrows, from which was required only moderate drunken slurring before the word was bastardized into “hearse.” So much for tedious etymology. What isn’t tedious is the 1994 Superior Crown Sovereign Cadillac hearse, a name that, like the car, is so immense it has stretch marks. This vehicle is as painstak­ingly custom-built as anything George Barris ever concocted and a lot classier. Sure, Cadillac made the hood, front fend­ers, drivetrain, and dashboard. But every other piece, from the A-pillars to the 31-inch stretch in the wheelbase to the immense side doors to the high-mounted brake light in the rearmost loading door, is custom-fabricated of metal, glass, and sheet-molding compound. All of this is performed in a 135,000-square-foot fac­tory in the dankest recesses of Lima, Ohio, by S&S Superior, a company that has been building hearses for 71 years. The hearse tested here fetches not only the freshly deceased but also $69,858 per copy. From the moment it arrived in Ohio (having been shipped from Cadillac’s plant in Arlington, Texas), it required seven weeks of labor by 196 persons before it achieved a condition sufficiently stately to conduct the big-buck business of funerals.Oddly enough, from behind the hearse’s wheel, your first impression is that the two-seat cockpit, like the cabin of a pickup truck, is cozy and compact (apart from offering such amazing headroom that a six-foot-five driver can still wear a fedora and not rub the headliner). The notion of coziness is dispelled the first time you round a curve and the hearse’s inside rear wheel soundly slams a curb, then inflicts canyon-size ruts some two feet into your neighbor’s freshly seeded fescue. The side-view mirrors reflect the immense, cue-stick-straight flanks but divulge no clue as to the location of the hearse’s tail. There exists no three-quarter vision, either, because of the 18-inch dead panel (their term, not ours) behind the B-pillars. And the view through the backlight is largely obscured by dour velvet drapes. The first time I backed the Crown Sovereign hearse into my garage, I crushed a 50-gallon Rubbermaid garbage tub, and the foremost four feet of this Cadillac was still protruding defiantly onto my driveway. Thus, the next time you observe a funeral director backing a hearse precisely into position for a drop-off (with God knows how many already-unhappy onlookers sulkily scrutinizing his every move), give him a small salute.The upside to all of this difficulty in maneuvering is that those with whom you share the road afford a hearse special cour­tesy. They make holes in traffic, let you merge, allow you to exit driveways and side streets. They avert their eyes. You could drive a hearse naked and not be noticed, at least until burial proceedings were approximately 30 minutes underway. S&S Superior’s president is Don Cuz­zocrea, a softspoken 49-year-old man whose office is adorned with photos of Johnny Rutherford, George Bush, Johnny Unitas, and a helmet once worn by friend Al Unser Jr. As he walks through his plant, he greets all 196 employees by name. Cuzzocrea wasn’t sure he wanted C/D to test one of his hearses, given the vehi­cle’s mission in life, never mind its sym­bolic mission in the afterlife. As it turned out, he needn’t have worried. Well, mostly. Parts of the test didn’t surprise us. If you want to see something akin to Mike Tyson in a Kathy Smith aerobics video, for instance, you should observe a 5489-pound hearse, standing almost six feet tall, hurtling around a skid­pad. It doesn’t so much circulate the skid­pad as fill it. Still, this hearse, pushing its front Michelin MX4s like a mammoth white bulldozer, achieved 0.70 g of grip, the same adhesion achieved by a standard-­length Fleetwood Brougham we tested last year. From 70 mph, this behemoth stops in 213 feet, which places it dead even with a Mazda MPV and a Dodge Caravan. And gliding majestically at 70 mph, the hearse generates the same hushed interior thrum as a Bentley Turbo R. This seems stately and appropriate. But most surprising for a vehicle the size of Belgium is its accelerative prowess. Sixty mph is yours in 9.1 seconds, corpse not included. This relative quickness, of course, is attributable to GM’s Gen II 5.7-liter V-8, which belts out 260 horsepower at 5000 rpm and a locomotive-like 335 pound-feet of torque at a down-and-dirty 2400 rpm, all of it fed through a 9.5-inch ring-and-pinion assembly possibly pur­chased from Dale Earnhardt. In addition, Superior makes its own two-piece drive­shaft and heavy-duty coil springs. Our drag-strip results reflect, as noted, only one body aboard. Usually there would be two (one supple and smiling, the other not), as well as the added 350 pounds of dead weight (sorry) for what the funeral biz euphemistically calls a “container.” But this 0-to-60 time is a tenth of a second quicker than that of a Camaro V-6 auto­matic. And if you in your Camaro get embroiled in a drag race with a Superior hearse, guess which car gets pulled over by Officer Bob? Under wide-open throt­tle, the big V-8 snarls and whoops in a dis­tinctly non-funereal fashion, although the hot-rod racket emanates from so far astern that you look in the mirrors to see if some­one’s ZR-1 is possibly overtaking. One drawback to this performance is a dismal EPA city rating of 14 mpg. Mind you, most hearses set out on trips that aver­age only ten miles (unless you shuck your mortal coil in New York City, where it is a 100-mile run to find someplace to plant containers). And although the top speed of this vehicle is 111 mph, it is rarely achieved in the midst of a funeral proces­sion, because it agitates the bereaved. Despite its Titanic size, Superior’s Cadillac hearse is not a bad thing to drive in a straight line, given its power and flawlessly smooth four-speed 4L60-E trans­mission. The tall, vinyl-wrapped roof cap resonates beyond 75 mph, however, and the front seat offers the lateral support of a canvas park bench. The biggest dynamic drawback is steering that sets new stan­dards in numbness and encourages you to spin the tiller of this land-locked yacht with one digit. Superior’s attention to detail here is nonetheless superb. The panel that usually encases four electric window lifts, for instance, now holds only two, but the plate behind the switches is fabricated to look original. The company fashions these cus­tom trim bits so perfectly that you have to be told what’s been modified. Cadillac has such faith in Superior that it allows the hearses to be adorned in any location—­the base of the all-new A-pillars, for example—with the marque’s traditional crossed-wreath crests. The replacements for the rear side doors are custom-made in steel by Supe­rior—using a three-story, 800-ton press­—and are fitted with custom glass that is 42 inches long. Both are fitted with Superior’s own side-impact beams, even though no living soul will ride behind these rear doors (the only rider back there is, ah, no longer deeply concerned about injuries). The fuel-­filler neck, all the way to the tank, is pro­tected by a series of fiberglass boxes, to avoid spillage if the hearse should turn turtle. (In fact, Superior installs massive roof-rail tie pillars that, asserts Cuzzocrea, “make it far better in a rollover than a stan­dard Fleetwood.”) And the company crash-tests its hearses at the Transporta­tion Research Center in Ohio. The mirror-like chrome rocker sills are uninterrupted, fashioned by Superior in absolute straight-and-true sheets. The grille is enlarged for looks. The rearmost load­ing door is something to behold: it is 45 inches wide—allegedly the widest in the hearse biz—and custom-stamped in glass­-smooth steel. The door is mounted on two gigantic precision-tooled hinges and encased in stainless-steel doorjambs. It swings open an amazing 125 degrees (to avoid hernias, the pallbearers on the door side must get as close to the rear bumper as possible), it opens from the left or the right, your choice, and it slams shut, appro­priately, with the vault-like finality of a Mosler safe. It may be death’s door, but it’s beautifully assembled. All of the upholstery, from the carpet to the headliner, is identical to Cadillac’s and is stitched as flawlessly as that in a BMW M5. The rub­ber seals inside the doors and windows are all of Superior’s own design. Electro-gal­vanized steel is used from the beltline down and for all exposed metal surfaces. And the trim pieces around the taillights fit more snugly than Cadillac’s originals. All of which may explain Superior’s seven­-year/70,000-mile warranty, although, Cuz­zocrea points out, “It is common for a hearse to be in service for 15 years.” The finish on every Superior surface, whether steel or fiberglass, includes eleven coats of primer and paint and is glossier than on the stock Cadillac. While I was touring the production line (on which 92 cars were aborning right then), a worker furiously sanded the paint on an original fuel-filler flap—even though it was the same color as the rest of the car—because he couldn’t abide Cadillac’s factory-­sprayed orange peel. Speaking of color, only 50 percent of today’s hearses are painted black, a color that evidently lends gratuitous somberness to an already dark event. The second most common choice is white, with gold, dark green, silver, and burgundy not far behind. Cuzzocrea’s favorites are “calypso green and baby blue.”What you don’t so readily see on Supe­rior’s hearses are the subtle touches that save the funeral director from embarrass­ment. “One director locked himself in the container area,” says Cuzzocrea. This is a problem, because the rear side doors can­not be opened from inside, and access to the cockpit is denied by glass partitions. More Cadillac Reviews From the Archive”I mean, here’s this guy beating on the windows to get out,” he recalls. “After that, we installed a little button in the loading door—an emergency door release.” The inverse is also a problem. More than one funeral director has locked himself out of his hearse, a mortifying debacle at the cemetery. Thus, Superior cleverly crafts a hidey-hole inside the fuel-filler flap, in which is inserted a spare key. On the floor of the 114-inch-long con­tainer area are ten ten-inch-wide rubber rollers, each embedded in a block of chrome set atop the walnut flooring, which itself is supported from below by a tube-­steel cage welded to the car’s frame. You roll the casket (today they average seven feet in length) forward until it rams the two foremost bier pins, then insert a single bier pin at the rear, in any of eight different slots, depending on the deceased’s length. The rubber rollers, in theory, do an ade­quate job of keeping the casket from mov­ing laterally, unless, like us, you drive the hearse around a skidpad at tire-shredding speeds—an activity usually denied to Amer­ica’s funeral directors.The rear bumper is fitted with a custom stainless-steel center section to prevent scarring from dropped caskets, which Cuz­zocrea says “happens a lot.” And the cargo area is plumbed so that its atmosphere is exchanged every 120 seconds—not because the deceased may be emitting fetid odors but because the attendant floral arrangements atop the casket inevitably are. Immediately behind the front seat and under the casket area are two more secret compartments. The compartment behind the passenger seat is reserved for a “church truck”—the collapsible cart that transports the casket when the pallbearers run out of Gatorade. And hidden directly behind the driver is a full-sized spare tire, because it is unseemly to arrive at the cemetery riding atop a space-saver spare, which, in any event, isn’t real happy supporting 7200-pound-GVW vehicles anyway. Perhaps what is most significant about S&S Superior of Ohio is that it is an Amer­ican company that last year built (this is not a typo) 1005 hand-built cars and will this year export $1 million worth of vehi­cles to Japan. Not just customized cars, either, but what can arguably be called meticulously crafted new cars. “All I need is an engine and transmis­sion,” says Cuzzocrea. “Everything else—­frame, suspension, custom-stamped steel body, glass, upholstery—we can do our­selves. And as for quality of assembly, I’d put our stuff up against the final product of any big-time manufacturer.” I ask if Cuzzocrea could build the world’s greatest Cobras or replica GT40s. “In a heartbeat,” he replies. However, to keep Superior successful and productive another 71 years, what is principally required is the lack of a heart­beat. Yours and mine. Arrow pointing downArrow pointing downSpecificationsSpecifications
1994 Superior Crown Sovereign Cadillac hearseVehicle Type: front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 3+1-passenger, 5-door wagon
PRICE
Base/As Tested: $67,650/$69,858
ENGINEpushrod V-8, iron block and heads, port fuel injectionDisplacement: 350 in3, 5733 cm3Power: 260 hp @ 5000 rpm Torque: 335 lb-ft @ 2400 rpm
TRANSMISSION4-speed automatic 
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 152.5 inLength: 255.9 inCurb Weight: 5489 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 9.1 sec1/4-Mile: 16.9 sec @ 83 mph100 mph: 27.2 secRolling Start, 5–60 mph: 9.1 secTop Speed (gov ltd): 111 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 213 ftRoadholding, 300-ft Skidpad: 0.70 g 
C/D FUEL ECONOMY
Observed: 16 mpg
EPA FUEL ECONOMYCity: 14 mpg 
C/D TESTING EXPLAINED More

From the October 2023 issue of Car and Driver.There we were, that Vapor Blue Ford Mustang GT and me, at a Pasadena stoplight, windows down, waiting to enter a freeway. A black Tesla Model 3 rolled up alongside. The driver, in his late 20s, smiled at the Ford through an open window. “Nice,” he offered.”Thanks,” I said. “Wish it were mine. Just on loan.”A pause, followed by a gesture toward the Mustang’s dash, unsure. “Is that . . . a giant screen?”I blinked, wondering whether this was a setup. The Model 3’s touchscreen is famously humongous. The GT’s wide glass display, new for 2024 and as long as your arm, is more tasteful, but it still tumors off the dash like a hat on a hat. “Works fine,” I said, shrugging. “But looks tacked on, you know?”A shrug of his own, a friendly nod at his dash. “Yeah. Everyone’s doing it though, right? Kind of the standard now.”Change comes for everything, even cars that rarely change much. When the light turned green, we waved goodbye. I made a hard left onto a tight on-ramp, and the rear tires slithered a bit on exit, and there was a deeply satisfying blast to redline in first gear, the 5.0 spewing torque and brap as the San Gabriel Mountains behind arced skyward under golden light, and I found myself thinking not at all of pixels but definitely of why every person in America should want at least one V-8 Mustang and probably two or three, especially on blue-sky days in rolling land during what we’re told is the time of the petro-muscle sunset. HIGHS: A healthy shot of power, soul, and feedback in a budget-friendly package; rev-happy V-8; and (hallelujah!) a standard clutch pedal.Then, naturally, we came to a screeching halt in stop-and-go traffic. Southern California: great but imperfect, as ever. And a new Mustang for 2024, the sixth major revamp in 60 years, same-same. Greg Pajo|Car and DriverGreg Pajo|Car and DriverBig changes matter with cars like this, but small ones can matter more. Months back, when Ford unveiled that glassy cockpit, with a 13.2-inch infotainment touchscreen and a 12.4-inch digital instrument cluster, loyalists scowled; Mustangs had never worn anything like it. Gone was the old double-brow dash, a family hallmark. Other details are more critical. Ford calls the new platform S650. It’s a moderate update of the outgoing Mustang, the S550, which first met dealers for 2015. Just as last year, there are three variants: the EcoBoost turbo 2.3-liter four, the 5.0-liter V-8 GT, and the track-focused GT-based Dark Horse. Key updates include a bit more power, a stiffer structure, a retuned suspension, and a quicker ratio for the electrically assisted power steering, from 16.0:1 to 15.5:1. The vacuum-operated brake booster gets replaced by an electronic unit that’s a bit grabby at parking-lot speeds but otherwise nicely transparent.Cosmetically, little carries over. The new styling is essentially S550 with less fillip and more sneer. The taillights and trunklid now form a concave V deep enough to hold shadow in daylight. The net effect is a car that looks smaller but isn’t. The GT receives a larger and more fish-mouthed grille than the EcoBoost, as well as hood extractor vents. In coupe form (a convertible remains available), the new GT is as wide as the old but 0.9 inch longer and 0.7 inch taller, its wheelbase 0.1 inch shorter. Our manual-equipped Premium GT with the Performance package crosses the scales at 3947 pounds, 69 pounds heavier than an identically equipped S550. Thank all that is Henry—that six-speed manual remains standard. A 10-speed automatic is a $1595 option that comes with remote start and the ability to rev the engine from the key fob. The GT badge has long represented peak Mustang bang for buck, but inflation is real. To the $44,090 base price, our test car added the $4995 GT Performance package, which includes larger Brembo brakes, Pirelli P Zero PZ4 summer rubber, and a 3.73:1 Torsen limited-slip rear axle. We also got the GT Premium package, Equipment Group 401A High (upgraded interior materials, 12-speaker Bang & Olufsen stereo, Co-Pilot Assist+), Recaro seats, the Mustang Nite Pony pack (black mirrors, badges, 19-inch wheels), magnetorheological dampers, the active performance exhaust, and floor mats. The total: $62,425. Reasonable for today’s market, given what those options bring. Still, don’t Google what a 2015 Mustang GT cost new unless you need a good cry. LOWS: Not a ground-up redesign; enthusiast options add up quickly; try-hard dash screen doesn’t fit the vibe.Eight cylinders are a tradition here, going back to the ’60s. The double-overhead-cam, 32-valve Coyote V-8 is a light revision of its former self, virtually identical in manner and appearance. The highlight is the addition of a second throttle body—the intakes now front the engine bay like a pair of fangs—and new exhaust cams to boot. The result is more power, 480 horsepower at 7150 rpm, to be exact. Add the performance exhaust, and the GT’s output rises to 486 horses at 7250 rpm. The torque peak—415 pound-feet, or 418 with the active exhaust—arrives at 4900. This is, of course, on 93 octane. The Coyote has always had a divisive sound: low-end burble, barky midrange, and raspy, rat-a-tat hammer up top. This one is no different, boasting the trademark creamy response and smooth wave of torque. It’s happier at high rpm than its forebear and unhappy nowhere. The theme here is balance, a hallmark of the best modern Mustangs, no component outweighing another. As with the S550, blasting around town feels like an event. The manual is easy to be smooth with. Back roads and fast freeways fall into a rhythm. The car is comfy when loping along and predictable when wrung out. If you use that digital display (or the steering-wheel buttons) to play with the drive modes, you will find that the interface is intuitive, and also that those modes make a difference. In steering feel, Normal is fine, if boring and effort-light. Track brings more self-centering but occasional woolliness under load. Sport is the most naturally weighted. Suspension adjustments in those modes are similar, taking advantage of the dampers’ talent for compromise: Track is workable for imperfect two-lanes but too stiff for maintaining high speeds, trading cohesion for response. Normal adds a smidge of ride comfort but can take impractically long to settle the body in quick transitions. Sport is just right for fast road use, precise and compliant. Drag is, well, for drag racing.While on that topic, launch control is available, and no-lift shifting is new to the GT. To extract maximum performance, don’t use either. By taking matters into our own hands, we saw a 4.2-second sprint to 60 mph and a 12.5-second quarter-mile at 114 mph, or roughly the same as the previous generation’s performance. The GT held to the skidpad with a 0.99-g average, and stops took 153 feet from 70 mph and 312 feet from 100 mph. Other strengths and weaknesses recall the outgoing Mustang: all-day highway comfort and stability that won’t put you to sleep, fit-everyone stock seats that are a tad too spongy on a winding canyon road, a trunk that’s sizable, a rear seat that’s useful only for short trips or children. The refreshed interior features more soft-touch materials, though the plastic rear shelf still throws an annoying reflection onto the back glass, glaring out traffic in the rearview.Rationally speaking, most people don’t need a $62,425 Mustang GT. They do not ache for all-singing, all-dancing dampers or a Torsen’s creamy corner exit, and deleting those options saves big cash while losing little. Yet machines like this are bought mostly on emotion, and those parts deliver more of it. Trying them makes you want to hunt fancy German cars in the hills until your face hurts from grinning. So equipped, the Ford lands that best of all fast-car tricks: It somehow produces the feeling that you’re doing everything right.More on the Mustang!Pixel cancer, the faithful will grumble. And not a redesign from the ground up—valid complaints. But how many new cars of this ilk remain? How many do this much this well, with this much character and history, for this price or less?VERDICT: Imperfect but still a stout dose of that old-time rock ‘n’ roll.A rear-drive, three-pedal, four-seat, V-8 pony car that’s new and big of heart, attainable, at home in commute or canyon, and more than the sum of its parts. Yes, please—forever, all day long. Sign us up.Arrow pointing downArrow pointing downSpecificationsSpecifications
2024 Ford Mustang GTVehicle Type: front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 4-passenger, 2-door coupe
PRICE
Base/As Tested: $44,090/$62,425Options: GT Performance package, $4995; GT Premium package, $4520; Equipment Group 401A High package, $2900; MagneRide dampers, $1750; Recaro seats, $1650; active-valve performance exhaust, $1225; Mustang Nite Pony package, $1095; floor liners with carpet mats, $200
ENGINEDOHC 32-valve V-8, aluminum block and heads, port and direct fuel injectionDisplacement: 307 in3, 5038 cm3Power: 486 hp @ 7250 rpmTorque: 418 lb-ft @ 4900 rpm 
TRANSMISSION6-speed manual
CHASSIS
Suspension, F/R: struts/multilinkBrakes, F/R: 15.4-in vented disc/14.0-in vented discTires: Pirelli P Zero PZ4F: 255/40R-19 96YR: 275/40R-19 101Y
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 107.0 inLength: 189.4 inWidth: 75.4 inHeight: 55.0 inPassenger Volume, F/R: 55/30 ft3Trunk Volume: 13 ft3Curb Weight: 3947 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 4.2 sec100 mph: 9.5 sec1/4-Mile: 12.5 sec @ 114 mph130 mph: 16.5 sec150 mph: 23.5 secResults above omit 1-ft rollout of 0.3 sec.Rolling Start, 5–60 mph: 5.0 secTop Gear, 30–50 mph: 10.0 secTop Gear, 50–70 mph: 9.0 secTop Speed (gov ltd): 155 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 153 ftBraking, 100–0 mph: 312 ftRoadholding, 300-ft Skidpad: 0.99 g 
C/D FUEL ECONOMY
Observed: 18 mpg75-mph Highway Driving: 24 mpg75-mph Highway Range: 380 mi 
EPA FUEL ECONOMY
Combined/City/Highway: 17/14/23 mpg 
C/D TESTING EXPLAINEDFreelanceSam Smith is a freelance journalist and former executive editor at Road & Track. His writing has appeared in Esquire and the New York Times, and he once drove a Japanese Dajiban around a track at speed while being purposely deafened by a recording of Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off.” He lives in Tennessee with his family, a small collection of misfit vehicles, and a spaniel who is scared of squirrels. More

It is always brave to call the final result of any contest before it has ended. Yet it seems impossible that anything will beat Great Wall Motor Company’s Ora Funky Cat for the title of the most oddly named vehicle C/D will drive this year.This is no self-built special. The Funky Cat is an electric hatchback from China’s GWM, an automotive group that produced no fewer than 1.2 million vehicles last year and is in a joint venture with BMW to produce the next Mini EV hatchback. GWM subsidiaries include Havel, Wey, and the intriguingly named Tank—which, appropriately, makes nothing but boxy SUVs. Ora is an electric-only brand that gives its models feline names and is aimed at younger buyers. In the People’s Republic, our subject is the Haomao, or “Good Cat,” but when exported to Europe this cat gets to be Funky. The Funky Cat sits on what GWM calls its L.E.M.O.N. platform, an apparent (and unfortunate) acronym that isn’t explained in any greater detail on its corporate website. But don’t let the twee name and cutesy looks fool you. Beneath all that lies a generally well-engineered car, one that can compete with better-known rivals on range, performance, and—perhaps most important—price. Every Ora model gets retro styling, and compared to some of its siblings the Funky Cat’s slightly startled front end can be regarded as getting off lightly. It is no surprise to discover that credited designer Emanuel Derta formerly worked for Porsche; the chrome-ringed round headlights are reminiscent of the units found on early-1970s 911 Carreras. The Funky Cat’s design is positively restrained when compared to other Ora models—the Lightning Cat sedan looks like a proto-Panamera, and the Ballet Cat is a four-door take on the original Volkswagen Beetle.Seen from the side or rear the Funky Cat looks more modern, although its combination of curves and short overhangs makes it look smaller than it is; at 166.7 inches in length, this feline is only slightly larger than the last-generation Hyundai Kona EV. Inside, the five-seat cabin has decent space for occupants both front and rear, the design is unfussy, and materials seem upmarket enough. The old-school theme extends to chrome-effect switchgear and pleated trim that wouldn’t feel out of place in a 1960s sports car. This is pleather rather than leather, but it still feels convincing once that secret is known. Disappointingly, the metal switches feel insubstantial when operated, as does the rotary R/N/D direction selector, but your fingers need to explore the lower reaches of the dashboard and seat bases to find any cheap-feeling plastics.The Ora has two 10.3-inch landscape-oriented displays—one a digital instrument cluster, the other a touch-sensitive control screen—but the interface isn’t the snappiest to operate.All European-market Funky Cats feature a single 169-hp motor turning the front wheels that draws energy from a lithium-iron-phosphate battery with an estimated 43.0 kilowatt-hours of usable capacity (a larger pack with an estimated 57.0 kilowatt-hours is optional, but we have yet to drive that setup). Under Europe’s optimistic WLTP protocol, the standard pack has an estimated range of 193 miles, or approximately 164 miles in EPA methodology. One weakness is fast-charging, as the Funky Cat only supports DC fast-charge rates up to 80 kilowatts, well below punchier rivals. On the plus side, it is lighter than most similarly sized alternatives, with the smaller-pack car weighing 3395 pounds by Ora’s measurements. Performance feels strong for a junior EV. Off the line, the Funky Cat can be made to chirp its front tires on dry asphalt, the traction control taking a laid-back approach to intervention. Acceleration stays brisk until around 60 mph, tailing off rapidly above that. Ora quotes 8.3 seconds to reach 62 mph, but it feels subjectively quicker. Past 70 mph, the car seems to hit a half-life curve, with each successive 10-mph increment taking twice as long as the last to arrive; confirming the 99-mph limiter would require both patience and a longer straight than we could find on our German test route. (No, we didn’t go onto the autobahn.)Refinement is good at gentle speeds, with a soft suspension pillowing urban bumps. But wind and tire noise build quickly with velocity, and when traveling faster over rough roads there was the occasional sense of floatiness, the Funky Cat feeling under-damped. Grip levels proved reasonable, but there was no joy to be found in trying to push the limits of adhesion amid early-onset understeer and a lack of feedback. The inconsistent regenerative braking also added to the sense of dynamic disconnect, taking awhile to build resistance after the accelerator was lifted.But the biggest distraction from the cabin’s calm was a multitude of beeps and alarms. The Funky Cat has a speed-monitoring system that pings every time the car goes above a posted speed limit, even by a single mph. The lane-keep assistant chimes if it feels the car is straying from its lane, eventually intervening further with aggressive self-steering. A driver-monitoring system adds yet further admonishment if it thinks the pilot’s attention is wandering. Deactivating these is an awkward, multi-stage process, and the lane-keep system frustratingly defaults to on with each restart. More Compact EVsThe standard fitment of these systems—as well as active cruise control and blind-spot monitoring—seems to be one of the primary reasons the Funky Cat achieved a class-leading score in the Euro NCAP safety ratings. But in our experience, Ora added what felt like an unsafe level of distraction.GWM OraFor European buyers the Funky Cat’s most attractive detail is its price, with the standard version asking the equivalent of $35,700 in Germany before tax. That’s aggressive, but Volkswagen recently announced it is cutting the starting price of the face-lifted European-market ID.3 Pro—with 201 horses and a 58.0-kWh battery—to about $36K before tax. Yet Great Wall has plenty of room to respond with more aggressive cuts if it wants to. In China, the most basic version of the Good Cat, with the smaller battery and a 141-hp electric motor, costs just RMB 107,800 ($14,850). The Ora Funky Cat feels like it’s 90 percent of a car. The basics are all good, but the details still require more polish. Arrow pointing downArrow pointing downSpecificationsSpecifications
2023 GWM Ora Funky CatVehicle Type: front-motor, front-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door hatchback
PRICE (Germany)
Base: $35,700
POWERTRAIN
Motor: permanent-magnet synchronous AC, 169 hp, 184 lb-ft Battery Pack: liquid-cooled lithium-iron-phosphate, (C/D est) 43.0 kWhOnboard Charger: 6.6 kWPeak DC Fast-Charge Rate: 80 kWTransmission: direct-drive
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 104.3 inLength: 166.7 inWidth: 71.9 inHeight: 63.1 inCargo Volume, Behind F/R: 30/8 ft3Curb Weight (C/D est): 3400 lb
PERFORMANCE (C/D EST)
60 mph: 7.5 sec1/4-Mile: 16.5 secTop Speed: 99 mph
EPA FUEL ECONOMY (C/D EST)
Range: 164 miSenior European CorrespondentOur man on the other side of the pond, Mike Duff lives in Britain but reports from across Europe, sometimes beyond. He has previously held staff roles on UK titles including CAR, Autocar and evo, but his own automotive tastes tend towards the Germanic, owning both a troublesome 987-generation Porsche Cayman S and a Mercedes 190E 2.5-16. More

From the April 1997 issue of Car and Driver.Various old-fogy automo­tive wankers are forever lamenting the demise of rattletrap roadsters—the kind that were around when the average guy could tell you who Neville Chamberlain was. Well, cheer up, graybeards, a few of these old-timer cars are still around. Caterham Cars of Cater­ham, England, produces a vari­ation of the original Lotus 7 that first appeared in 1957. When Lotus decided to stop producing the car in 1973, Caterham purchased the rights to produce the tiny English roadster. Today, Caterham offers two models for sale in kit form in the U.S.: the Supersprint and the Classic SE. Both cars use 1.6- or 1.7-liter carbureted Ford Cortina-based four­-cylinder engines that date back to the Sixties. The Supersprint has an independent rear suspension; the Classic makes do with a solid rear axle just like the original. It also eschews bucket seats in favor of a bench that stretches across the cockpit—­just like the original—with only the trans­mission tunnel and belts left to hold the driver in place. Plus, the smaller tires of the Classic are dwarfed by the car’s rear fenders. The aluminum covering the frame was polished (you can get it painted), and the fiberglass fenders and the nose cone were painted red.In 1982, Caterham lengthened the car by two inches to increase its legroom, but it’s still extremely tight inside. To get into this roadster, you first stand on the seat and then support your body on the roll bar and side sill as you slide your legs under the steering wheel. After a few tries, it becomes relatively easy, but there’s little room once you’re in there. Thankfully, the park­ing brake is located under the passenger-side dash so it doesn’t intrude. Footroom is also precious. In fact, this tester had to drive barefoot because his size ten­-and-a-half sneakers simply wouldn’t work—depressing the clutch meant applying the brake, too. But being cramped is part of the fun, right?The car weighs just 1124 pounds. Weight is the enemy of performance, and this car’s light weight makes for a truly energetic drive. Our test car’s 100-horsepower 1.6-liter motor did the 0-to-60-mph routine in 6.5 seconds, which beats both a Mazda Miata and a BMW Z3. The engine pulls cleanly right off idle, and a proper exhaust bark bellows right below your left ear. The only clue that there are carburetors meter­ing the fuel flow is the appearance of two air cleaners poking through a hole cut in the right side of the hood—or should we say “bonnet”? Besides that, the engine ran just as smoothly as a fuel-injected one during our fair-weather test. Skidpad grip is impressive at 0.91 g, but a tendency to lock the right front brake stretched out stops from 70 mph to 220 feet. My experience with old sports cars is limited to a couple of elderly Triumphs I once considered buying. After just a few miles in either the TR3 or the TR6, I walked away amazed that I was able to drive both for short trips without having to walk back—the cars felt ready to fail at any moment. The Caterham definitely looks like a vintage car, but somewhere along its evolution, it has lost that rattle­trap feel. You can accelerate hard, dive into corners, and mash the brakes with­out fear of imminent breakage. You find yourself hustling around and grinning a lot in this kooky-looking machine. The four-speed gearbox is pirated from a 1970s-vintage European Ford Escort. It’s perfect for the car. The lever is tiny—smaller than a Miata’s—and snicks into gears with an enormously satisfying mechanical feel that so few cars offer these days. More Caterham Content From the ArchiveEven though the car starts as a kit, you’d hardly know it when driving. The frame is strengthened by aluminum honeycomb panels that are riveted to its sides, and the result is an impressively stiff car. No rattles or squeaks accom­pany hard driving, which speaks volumes about the car’s quality. The kit for the car pictured here, which includes the engine, costs $23,500. A Caterham dealer will put it together for you for $2500. Doing it yourself is said to take about 50 hours. A 1.7-liter assembled Supersprint costs $33,000. Of the 700 Caterhams pro­duced each year, only 50 make it across the pond, and that has created the cur­rent 16-week waiting list.Did we have fun driving the Classic? Yes, but probably not as much as guys old enough to remember Neville Chamberlain.Arrow pointing downArrow pointing downSpecificationsSpecifications
1997 Caterham Classic SEVehicle Type: front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 2-passenger, 2-door convertible
PRICE
Base/As Tested: $26,000/$26,000
ENGINEpushrod 8-valve inline-4, iron block and headDisplacement: 98 in3, 1599 cm3Power: 100 hp @ 6000 rpmTorque: 100 lb-ft @ 4500 rpm 
TRANSMISSION4-speed manual 
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 88.5 inLength: 133.0 inCurb Weight: 112.4 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 6.5 sec1/4-Mile: 15.5 sec @ 84 mphRolling Start, 5–60 mph: 6.5 secBraking, 70–0 mph: 220 ftRoadholding, 100-ft Skidpad: 0.91 g 
C/D TESTING EXPLAINED More

There is an all-electric Porsche Panamera in the making, but before it arrives on the Scalable Systems Platform (SSP) about four years from now, the third-generation (G3) four-door flagship will bow in early 2024 for its final seven-year life cycle. Unfortunately, it will be offered in only one body style this time, as the take rate for the Sport Turimso has dipped below 10 percent, so that variant is being discontinued.The shift toward plug-in hybrids continues with a fourth model, the Turbo PHEV. We drove the 680-hp top offering alongside the upgraded entry-level 353-hp Panamera 4 2.9 in the mountains northwest of Barcelona. Note, however, that at this point, all powertrain output figures are still tentative, with final confirmation expected closer to production.Goals for the New Panamera”Making a very good car even better sounds like the easiest trick in the book but is almost always a huge challenge,” says project leader Thomas Friemuth. “In the case of the G3, the main focus was on the chassis, drivetrain, and interior. The character of the Panamera remains unchanged, but performance, ride and handling, the PHEV application, and the in-car entertainment are all significantly improved.” At a glance, the moderately camouflaged pre-production vehicles don’t look much different from the current vintage. Look closer though, and you will notice more muscular fenders and side panels, piercing HD matrix headlights, restyled 20- and 21-inch wheels, and full-width taillights capable of accommodating an illuminated Porsche logo.Driving the New PanameraWhich model first? Let’s start the day in the base V-6. Don’t be surprised by a six-figure price tag here—the car gains some 25 horsepower, and its standard suspension now includes Porsche’s Active Suspension Management (PASM) system with two-valve dampers and semi-active double-chamber air springs that are claimed to make the 2024 vintage more comfortable and more involving. True or false? It depends on what drive mode you’re in. While Sport Plus feels a little firmer than before, Normal is subjectively a tad more compliant. “Exactly!” says Friemuth. “The goal of the new setup is to broaden the scope. There is no need for a cushier Comfort calibration anymore, and in a sport-luxury car like this you don’t want to go any stiffer either.” Comfort is a newly gained asset in other areas, too, such as the seats. The eight-speed PDK dual-clutch automatic now features a new liftoff mode that shifts down with velvet gloves until the vehicle comes to a full stop. And the noise level was further reduced by acoustic absorbers in the roof, foam-filled pillars, and new cowl-to-bulkhead insulation.The 2.9-liter V-6 is not particularly refined, torquey, or frugal, and its power and torque delivery are far from sensational. Still, it will hurl the (claimed) 4310-pound Panamera to 62 mph in an estimated 5.2 seconds on its way to a top speed of 181 mph. The optional Sport exhaust can be paired with a two-stage synthesizer that fills the cabin with even rowdier vibes.The redesigned cockpit sports a fully digital curved instrument display with three large round dials next to a 10.9-inch center screen and a matching passenger-side monitor. As in the Cayenne, the small stubby gear lever is relocated from the console to the dashboard—convenient, perhaps, but so un-Porsche-like. Out back, the luggage compartment can now hold two XL golf bags thanks to some repackaging and a slimmer subwoofer.Next, we climb into the V-8 Turbo E-Hybrid, which replaces the gas-engine Turbo S. Porsche is coy about the final specification, but we expect around 680 horsepower, which would leave room for an expected 750-hp Turbo S E-Hybrid due later next year. For reduced emissions and improved fuel economy, the twin-turbo 4.0-liter switches from twin-scroll to mono-scroll turbochargers. On the electric side of things, the cooling of the motors is now handled by oil instead of water, and the maximum energy regeneration increases from 45 to 80 kilowatts, while the electric motor’s power output rises from 134 to 188 horsepower. At the same time, the battery’s capacity increases from 17.9 to 25.9 kilowatt-hours (an estimated 14.3 to 20.6 kilowatt-hours in usable terms), while the zero-emission range is expected to jump from 39 to approximately 53 miles on the European test cycle. It’s far too early to know how any U.S. model will be rated, but if the same magnitude of benefit were somehow bestowed on a 2023 Panamera 4S E-Hybird its EPA-rated plug-in range would increase from 19 miles to 26 miles. Going along with the increased battery size, the switch to a higher-capacity 11-kW onboard charger enables Level 2 recharging in as little as two or three hours.All Panamera PHEVs are available with the new Porsche Active Ride suspension, which combines single-chamber air springs with two-valve dampers. “This is a fully active system,” explains Friemuth. “The car remains level at all times except in active cornering mode, when a 3.0-degree lean is automatically dialed in. At the same time, a 1.5-degree anti-dive and anti-squat feature keeps unwanted body movements to an absolute minimum. Furthermore, the single-chamber layout dispenses with the extra weight, complexity, and cost of hydraulically adjustable anti-roll bars, making them obsolete.” A convenient new feature is the 55-mm (2.2-inch) ride-height adjustment that makes entry and exit more comfortable. Although the steering is carryover, the calibration was modified for a more progressive action, improved damping, and a less agitated on-center feel. Carbon-ceramic brakes are again standard.Predictably, the V-8 Turbo E-Hybrid is a much different animal from the base car. On the debit side, there is a weight penalty of close to 1100 pounds compared to the V-6. On the credit side, the combined torque of some 665 pound-feet simply can’t wait to neutralize the laws of physics. In Sport Plus with launch control active and a full battery, the high-performance GT allegedly can accelerate to 62 mph in 3.3 seconds. The top speed is said to exceed 190 mph (the future Turbo S E-Hybrid should hit 200). More on the PanameraDepending on drive mode and throttle position, the eight-speed PDK dual-clutch transmission can be machine-gun quick or comfortably relaxed. Engine and e-motor form a similar community of purpose that stretches from full-bore raucous and high-voltage energetic to hummingbird relaxed and surprisingly energy efficient. But like most Porsches, the new Panamera shines brightest where the competition is beginning to pale. Active Ride sharpens the handling, perfects the ride, and complements the roadholding without inserting the thinnest layer of indifference and artificiality. And the brakes are at first a touch too grabby and not so easy to modulate, but they grow on you by delivering the goods with relentless stamina and vigor.As the interim line-topper, the 2024 Panamera V-8 Turbo PHEV is an ultra-fast long-distance cruiser, a sports sedan, and a stylish family carryall. The biggest dynamic difference compared to the outgoing version originates in the recalibrated rear subframe, which in combination with the optional rear-wheel steering, adds a welcome dash of compliance and stability. The new Panamera successfully moves the needle. It fuses maneuverability, grip, and drivability like no other full-size four-door.Contributing EditorAlthough I was born the only son of an ornithologist and a postal clerk, it was clear from the beginning that birdwatching and stamp collecting were not my thing. Had I known that God wanted me to grow to 6’8″, I also would have ruled out anything to do with cars, which are to blame for a couple of slipped discs, a torn ligament, and that stupid stooped posture behind the wheel. While working as a keeper in the Aberdeen Zoo, smuggling cheap cigarettes from Yugoslavia to Germany, and an embarrassing interlude with an amateur drama group also failed to yield fulfillment, driving and writing about cars became a much better option. And it still is now, many years later, as I approach my 70th birthday. I love every aspect of my job except long-haul travel on lousy airlines, and I hope it shows. More

From the April 1997 issue of Car and Driver.”In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love,” wrote Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Easy for him to say—sports cars weren’t much of a distrac­tion in 1842. But this spring, we predict, love is in for tough competition from the niftiest class of two-seaters to come along in a beagle’s age.Sports cars had a good year in 1990, when, all by itself, the new Mazda Miata had the chattering classes wound up for about a year and a half. Remembering way back, 1970 stands out, too, for the simultaneous arrival of the fastback Datsun 240Z and the lump-shaped Porsche 914. But 1997’s class of four out­shines them all—three radically new models plus a celebrated yearling fresh from steroid therapy. The yearling is, of course, the BMW Z3 2.8, looking all mus­cled up now that its rear fenders have been stretched over a wider rear track. What you don’t see is the real muscle. The 189-horsepower six-cylinder from the 328 sedan fills the long engine bay (continued is the four-cylinder version for those under doctor’s order to limit their cardiac excitement).Topping the radically new list is the Mercedes-Benz SLK. This deftly engineered two-seater packs a supercharged four­-cylinder up front and a single red button on the console that transforms the car from snug coupe to open roadster in one touch of one finger. So impressed are we by this SLK that we unhesitatingly voted it to a spot on our 1997 Ten Best list. Radically new, too, not to mention long awaited, describes the Porsche Boxster. Twenty-some years later, Porsche finally makes amends for the unfortunate 914 with a middle-motor sportster that really works. More Convertible Reviews From the ArchiveThe terms “radically new” and “long awaited” apply equally well to the fourth member of 1997’s sports-car class, the all-­new Chevrolet Corvette. But does that magnum-caliber V-8 Detroiter belong in the same group with these compact Euro­peans? If price is all that counts—each one lists for about 40 large—then you’d have to say yes. But whether you’re buying fine wines, politicians, or sports cars, price is never all that counts. The talent and swagger and thrust of the Corvette flow from a philosophy that is very much different from the others. Besides, the ’97 Corvette is a targa, not a true convertible.When the ’98-model convertible arrives, we may toss it into the mix. Right now, we have a trio of German two-seaters seductive enough to lure Tennyson back for a rewrite of his famous line. Let’s see how the test drivers’ fancy turns as we put each one through a springtime romp.Third Place: Mercedes-Benz SLK We still admire the SLK every bit as much as we did when naming it to our 1997 Ten Best list at the beginning of the year. And for exactly the same reasons. “Does the SLK stand as the optimum real­ization of the concept?” we asked in our January road test. “Darn near,” we answered. “But let’s be clear. The concept isn’t Sports Car. The SLK is more like the slam-dunk champ in a league of one.” HIGHS: Cheeky good looks, tremendous road grip, draft-free with the roof up, one finger puts the roof down.LOWS: The five-speed is a (groan) automatic, the grip reaches its limit with too little warning.VERDICT: Only an unreconstructed sports-car nut would find this machine lacking.The SLK concept is this: a cockpit tightly sealed against weather and noise when the top is up; a fully automated one-touch, 25-second retraction of that top; and an exceptionally shake-and-rattle-free ride when the top is down. What you get is the best of both the coupe and convertible worlds, and a painless transition between the two, a tale of excellence no true sports car has yet to match. Oh, yes, and don’t forget the hey-look-at-me styling that con­fers instant celebrity on its driver. Still, any two-seater must inevitably be held up to the sports-car yardstick. When we put on our driving gloves and set out for fun in this group of three, the last guy to grab gets the SLK keys. The automatic transmission is part of the problem. Why turn over to automation one of the fun parts of driving? The supercharged four­-cylinder is not quite aesthetically pleasing, either. The putt-putt-putt exhaust sound at idle is too close to a Farmall’s, and power flow tends toward an abrupt on/off, depending on accelerator position and the automatic’s inclination toward gear­changes. Too many important decisions are taken away from the driver and rele­gated to HAL or whatever silicon pseu­donym is on duty. We don’t love the handling, either, an assertion that surely requires some expla­nation since the Test Results panel gives the SLK top marks for cornering and braking grip—0.90 g on the skidpad and 170 feet to stop from 70 mph. The problem here is attitude. The SLK is secretive. Vir­tually no information comes back through the steering. Imagine a rheostat for dialing up cornering forces. Turn the wheel more; cornering force goes up. As for a sense of what the tires are doing, the steering answers, “What tires?” Experienced drivers, either consciously or uncon­sciously, rely on subtle changes in tire-slip angle to know where they’re operating rel­ative to the limits of the tires. Slip angles increase as cornering forces rise, and the increase goes nonlinear when you near the limit. Feeling for this nonlinearity enables you to drive on the edge without ever falling off. But this car gives no sense of the edge. Don Schroeder, who drove the track portion of the test, reports that the SLK’s remarkably high lane-change speed—more than 4 mph better than the others’—was achieved with no sense of the tires slipping. And when slipping finally becomes apparent, “you encounter a spooky handling abyss,” he says. Of course, this abyss shows itself only at extremely high lateral forces, and one can usually keep up with the other cars in this test with little risk. But sports-car fun comes more from control than from speed, and the joy of controlling this machine is largely absent.Truth to tell, when we think of sports cars, we never think of the vastly more expensive Mercedes SL two-seaters, either. The SLK shares with the SL line a family resemblance long on solid con­struction, comfortable appointments, serious engine power, and enduring styling. But none of these cars spreads grins across the faces of sports-car guys. The SLK’s acceleration times are slightly behind the others’ here, largely because of the automatic. Zero to 60 takes 7.2 seconds, and the quarter-mile slips past in 15.5 second at 91 mph. On our com­parison trip, the SLK outscored the others in fuel economy at 21 mpg, compared with 20 for the Porsche and 19 for the BMW. And on cold mornings, the heater of this SLK blew out plenty of BTUs, unlike the last one we tested. Whereas we’re firm in our conviction that the SLK comes up short as a sports car, we’re also aware that the majority of wanna-owns prefer it that way.1997 Mercedes-Benz SLK185-hp supercharged inline-4, 5-speed automatic, 3020 lbBase/as-tested price: $41,123/$42,095C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 7.2 sec1/4 mile: 15.5 sec @ 91 mph100 mph: 20.0 secBraking, 70­-0 mph: 170 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.90 g C/D observed fuel economy: 21 mpgSecond Place: BMW Z3 2.8 Maybe this runabout can’t restore departing hair or shrink the bags under the eyes, but it sure brings to mind our younger days and the Tri­umph TR6. The snorty 2.8-liter six makes the same textural growl (though greatly muted compared with that old Brit), the narrow-at­the-elbow cockpit positions the torso upright behind the wheel, the long hood sweeps across the view as we turn, the rear suspension responds to power with that familiar demi-squat. Good stuff? Wrong question. The Z3 delivers that rare car flavor, one that’s been savored since Morgans were young, sought after by drivers who shun decaf and power steering with equal vigor. The flavor here is sports car, hot and black. HIGHS: Smooth power from the six, amusing handling from the semi-trailing-arm rear, convincing sports-car mood in the cockpit.LOWS: “Amusing handling” isn’t the same as correct handling, skimpy features list makes price seem steep (unless you value high-visibility BMW circle logos).VERDICT: Very much a traditional sports car, with all the joys and gripes that entails.In fact, the Z3 has power steering and power brakes and power windows and a power up/down adjuster on the driver’s seat—all niceties that have watered down the hearty flavor of sports cars over the past several decades. This is by no means the snow-in-the-cockpit experience that Triumph-MG-Healey drivers welcomed as proof that they were apart from the crowd of sedan-slogging weenies.And yet—is this a time machine hauling us back to the ’60s?—the Z3’s windshield shakes on bumpy roads, air currents roil into the cockpit from behind, the stubby gear lever pokes up out of a tall tunnel that might just as well be the Con­tinental Divide for the way it separates the cockpit into two sides. And there goes the rear again, hunkering down as the clutch takes up. No question that this Z3 is closer to the traditional sports-car definition than any­thing else in stores these days (the Miata excepted, of course). New for 1997 is this six-cylinder ver­sion, the extra 51 horsepower accompa­nied by vented front brakes (the same diameter as on the four), a rear track increased by 2.5 inches, a limited-slip dif­ferential, and a new front spoiler.The torque starts low in the rev range and pours on smoothly and sweetly as the tach swings upward. This is a disciplined powertrain, never raucous. It propels the Z3 to 60 mph in 6.3 seconds, 1.8 seconds quicker than the four-cylinder Z3, and just a tick behind the quickest of this group, the Porsche. Top speed is governor-limited at 129 mph. Unlike the SLK, there’s lots of communication here. The cockpit feels close, more intimate than the others. You’re in touch. You have a sense of what the machinery is doing. The steering feels substantial—”meaty” in the words of one of our testers. You can grab hold of it. Road adhesion is about medium for this group at 0.87 g. Handling is exactly what you’d expect of a front-engine car with semi-trailing arms behind: predictable understeer. Yet lifting abruptly off the power in turns will step the rear out to heroic drift angles, even at relatively low lateral forces. Controlling same is easy and intuitive, however.With the top down and the side win­dows up, we rushed along some high desert roads at speeds up to 110 mph. Drafty, yes, but not so much so that it wasn’t fun, never mind that temperatures were in the 50s. Sports cars goad you into bursts of exuberance like that. With the top up, this car has considerably more wind­-rush noise than the others. Downing the Z3’s top is a do-it-your­self project bereft of power assists­—unlatch the header, push back till the stack drops into the well behind the seat, and then the cover, stored in the trunk, must be snapped into place. The details are well designed and simple. One of our staffers, by himself, did the job in 54 seconds. Still, the manual top, along with a short roll call of features, a plainly appointed black cockpit, and the list of conventional BMW-sedan mechanicals under the skin, says that the Z3 is a rather short reach for its maker—certainly a far less imagina­tive concept than either the SLK or the Boxster. Yes, our as-tested car lists for about four large less than the others here, but the Z3 seems fully priced to us. 1997 BMW Z3 2.8189-hp inline-6, 5-speed manual, 2920 lbBase/as-tested price: $36,668/$37,423C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 6.3 sec1/4 mile: 14.9 sec @ 92 mph100 mph: 18.3 secBraking, 70­-0 mph: 171 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.87 gC/D observed fuel economy: 19 mpgFirst Place: Porsche Boxster “Nosy” is the visual first impression of this car—the nose Pinocchios out in front of the wheels an astonishing distance. Let it be your warning that the Boxster does nothing the ordinary way. We give it top marks in this group because it drives superbly and plies us with creature comforts to boot. It’s a bold rethink of how a sports car might be con­figured—the long nose makes room for two radiators, one ahead of each front wheel. The rethink is incautious, too. All engine work—hell, all peeking into the engine room—must be done from the bottom. The trunk opens to reveal a corner devoted to service: dipstick, oil and coolant fillers. That’s the rear trunk. The front trunk gives access to brake fluid and washer juice. The engine itself? HIGHS: Two trunks, a power roof, slick moves in the twisties, and just enough traditional Porsche cues to remind that this company always does its own thing.LOWS: No engine access from the top? Is this an annuity for the dealer mechanics, or what?VERDICT: Thoroughly fun to drive, thoroughly unconventional, thoroughly Porsche.Well, they say it’s in that box behind the seats.Wherever it is, it’s a sweet contrib­utor to this car’s success. It makes whirring sounds, quite loud and clatter-­free in a way foreign to Porsches. These whirs fade to background when you’re driving. The cockpit is serene. Unless the top is down. Then, if the road is right, you hear organ-pipe resonances more beautiful than any since Bach when the intake and exhaust passages pass through their 5200-to-5500-rpm tuned frequencies as the flat-six rushes toward 201 hp at 6000 rpm. The rush delivers 60 mph from rest in 6.2 seconds, and finishes the quarter-mile in 14.8 seconds at 93 mph, quickest of this group. Drat! The Boxster, in the lower gears, passes too quickly through its tuned peaks to even notice them. But the music that accompanies the labored acceleration up mountain grades is worth however many vacation days a flatlander’s journey may take. While in the mountains, enjoy the switchbacks. The Boxster’s cornering behavior is first-rate. The steering stays lively and responsive at the limit, and the rear tracks reliably behind. Porsche brags of a new way of managing deflection steer in the rear wheels. It works. This is not a tail-happy handler, never mind the repu­tation of mid-engine cars. The low-profile Bridgestone Potenza S-02 tires deserve mention here. Their dramatic gatorback tread pattern is almost as notable as the Boxster’s nosy profile. Their grip is sur­prisingly low, a disappointing 0.81 g on the skidpad, by far less tenacious than the other cars’ Michelins. But their breakaway characteristics are wonderfully gradual, so the Boxster is easily controllable and steer­able at the limit. We repeat: Control is the fun of a sports car, and if you have it, you can often outrun cars that produce better numbers in highly practiced test-track maneuvers. Would the SLK be more fun on these tires, we wonder? In sharp contrast to the Z3’s traditional approach, the Boxster seems devoid of all tradition save the occasional Porsche touch (the single, center-outlet exhaust reminds of so many 356 racers). The body is round-­shouldered, the cockpit is wide, the instru­ments are marked in italic typefaces, plastic interior details are shiny black—­this from the company that, in the early Seventies, originated the fashion of flat­-black trim instead of chrome. Porsche’s rethink of the sports car shows in the power top, too. A single latch at the top of the windshield must be freed by hand. Then one button stows the roof under a hatch at the rear of the cockpit in just 12 seconds, less than half the time of the next-best Mercedes. Well, it almost stows the roof: A moon-shaped section of it remains visible behind the twin roll bars, a packaging necessity turned into an auda­cious design element. Audacious describes the whole package. And fun. We expect that a rethink this radical, from a maker of such low volume, will devil early owners with a few bothers. Ah, but Boxster mechanicals come with a two-year unlimited-mileage warranty, something you could never say for springtime love. 1997 Porsche Boxster201-hp flat-6, 5-speed manual, 2850 lbBase/as-tested price: $41,284/$41,673C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 6.2 sec1/4 mile: 14.8 sec @ 93 mph100 mph: 17.5 secBraking, 70­-0 mph: 179 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.81 gC/D observed fuel economy: 20 mpg More

Hindsight is always 20/20, but looking back we can see that the minivan was an obvious step for the American auto industry to take in the early 1980s. The combination of larger families and longer journeys to the nation’s growing number of destination theme parks gave the impetus to create something better able to carry bigger quantities of human cargo than that previous favorite clan-hauler—a station wagon with cushions in the trunk. Vehicles like the Dodge Caravan, Chevrolet Astro, and—in very much last place—Ford Windstar responded to this need. The same held true in other parts of the world, like France, where the original Renault Espace was created around similar grande famille priorities. Now China has reached the same epoch of automotive evolution—but is doing so electrically. The three-row Maxus MIFA 9 is an EV minivan that combines serious internal space, impressive equipment levels, and a front-end design that immediately makes us think of Star Wars bounty hunter Boba Fett. Having driven it in Germany, where it recently went on sale, we can report it is as striking in three dimensions as it is in two.MaxusMaxusMaxus is a commercial brand belonging to SAIC Motor, formerly known as Shanghai Automotive Industry Corporation, China’s biggest automaker. The Maxus name comes from a long-defunct U.K. vanmaker, which SAIC acquired the rights to some time ago. MIFA is apparently an acronym: Maximum Intelligent Friendly Artistic. The MIFA 9 sits on the same platform as a gasoline-powered model called the Maxus G90, but the EV is distinguished by grander design, more equipment, and a heftier price tag. The original MIFA concept car was shown at the Shanghai auto show in 2021. The production version we drove featured a single 241-hp motor powering the front wheels and fed by a battery pack with a claimed 90-kWh capacity. It has an estimated range of around 275 miles under Europe’s flattering WLTP test cycle. Although China in 2016 moved beyond its single-child policy—which had restricted parents to just one kid—the legal limit subsequently was only raised to two. So, demand for vehicles like the MIFA 9 isn’t coming from the need to haul big families but rather the need to transport VIPs in space and style. That priority is clear in the differing missions assigned for each row of seating. Up front the confines are comfortable, well finished, and short on ergonomic fuss—clearly designed for professional drivers. There is a touch-sensitive control panel for climate-control functions, but almost everything else is controlled by the 12.3-inch central touchscreen. The middle row, behind electrically operated doors, is where the luxury resides on the top-spec Premium version we drove, with two power-adjustable airline-style seats complete with motorized footrests. This is where plutocrats get pampered. But behind them things turn cheap, as the third row is a bench with limited legroom and an upright backrest, a place to put kids or junior staff. If it were a ship then the respective demarcation by row would be bridge, first class, steerage. HIGHS: Spacious, luxurious interior; refined cruising; generous equipment.Unsurprisingly, the driving experience is utterly bland. The MIFA 9 has been designed for ease of operation and a level of smoothness to allow passengers to snooze undisturbed. Gentle pressure on the accelerator produces almost seamless starts, although pushing harder tended to create a modest amount of wheelspin as the front tires battle to get about 5500 pounds of van moving. The Maxus can be stopped just as unobtrusively, thanks to its ability to seamlessly blend regenerative and friction braking. But the steering is light and completely lacking in discernible feedback. Bizarrely there are separate switchable Sport modes for both the accelerator and steering maps—it is hard to think of any car that needs them less—and in the case of the steering all this adds is extra weight.MaxusMaxusBut the MIFA 9 has some fine qualities too. Its soft suspension gives it a pliant ride, but it isn’t lacking in chassis discipline over bumps as speeds start to rise. Even moderately keen cornering produces body roll and would bring doubtless admonition from the rear seats. But the Maxus tracks straight and feels very stable at highway speeds, and noise insulation is good for something with such a large frontal area. While acceleration is leisurely by EV standards—an official 62-mph time of 9.2 seconds—the Maxus is happy to cruise at an indicated 80 mph in serene comfort. That’s presuming the driver has taken the time to deactivate the over-sensitive lane-keeping assistant and its loud warning chimes. Top speed is electronically limited to 112 mph, although achieving that would likely kill the cruising range. We didn’t. LOWS: Indifferent to drive, priced against premium Euro rivals, not destined for the U.S.Switching to the middle row proves the MIFA 9 is a fine vehicle in which to be chauffeured. The seats are comfortable and offer sufficient adjustment to allow a reclining angle that leaves an occupant looking through the glass moonroof. There is also a massage function, plus heating and active cooling. Each seat has twin USB chargers, plus a pair of pop-out cupholders, and between the front seats is a deployable domestic socket for higher-voltage accessories.More on Vans and MinivansUltimate legroom in the second row is limited unless the front seats are motored forward, and reclining fully will obviously reduce the already limited space for anyone in the third row. Nor can the rearmost seats be fully folded to increase luggage space; the backs can be collapsed, but the base remains in place because of the battery location. Yet while the MIFA 9 we drove in Germany felt plenty grand, top-spec Chinese-market cars seem to be considerably posher with twin high-definition screens built into the dashboard and six seats arranged in pairs with even plusher thrones in the second and third rows, along with fold-out tables and individual touchscreen controls.No part of the MIFA 9 feels insubstantial or cheap, with that reality being reflected by the price tag. In Germany the entry-level version, with manual rather than electrically adjustable second-row seats, costs 57,974 euros before tax—$63,400 at current exchange rates. The Luxury version brings power rear seats for 63,854 euros ($69,800), and the top-spec Premium adds the motorized leg rests plus various other spec enhancements for 67,739 euros ($74,100). That puts it pretty much on par with plusher versions of the electric long-wheelbase Mercedes-Benz EQV, the most obvious alternative in this part of the market.While it is likely that most German shoppers will prefer to buy their EV minivans from familiar brands, the MIFA 9 illustrates that the Chinese industry can produce something that, while not a traditional luxury car, is a genuinely luxurious vehicle.Senior European CorrespondentOur man on the other side of the pond, Mike Duff lives in Britain but reports from across Europe, sometimes beyond. He has previously held staff roles on UK titles including CAR, Autocar and evo, but his own automotive tastes tend towards the Germanic, owning both a troublesome 987-generation Porsche Cayman S and a Mercedes 190E 2.5-16. More