Reviews

From the December 1987 issue of Car and Driver.It was hard to believe it was actually happening. At ten o’clock on a summer’s eve, in a garage in the middle of nowhere, the cars began to arrive. One by one, the fastest street machines in America rolled out of the pitch-black Ohio night and through the double-high garage doors, as if drawn by the bright lights inside. The Eagles were gathering.Their arrival signaled the beginning of a mission that was crystal clear in its simplicity: to crown the fastest street car in America. Why did we want to do that? Because, to paraphrase George Leigh Mallory, they were there. For years, stories have rippled through the automotive underground about superfast street cars, said to be capable of more than 200 mph. The banzai runners—wild men who terrorize the highways at warp velocity during the wee hours—have been the subject of at least two magazine articles. Three years ago, our own Csaba Csere aided and abetted Gale Banks in developing a Pontiac Trans Am that cracked the double-century mark. If there was one such car on the loose, there had to be dozens.[editoriallinks id=’fc8807f4-208f-4506-a7d2-aaa3d63fdc7f’ align=’left’][/editoriallinks] We baited the hook with a promise of a brush with fame and a chance to run flat out at one of the safest, best-equipped high-speed facilities in the world. “Come join us at the Transportation Research Center of Ohio,” our official invitation trumpeted. “We’ll run your car against the clocks on TRC’s 7.5-mile oval. Oh, and don’t bother showing up unless your car is capable of at least 175 mph.”The other rules of the competition were equally straightforward. No thinly disguised race cars would be allowed. All entrants would have to be legally registered and properly equipped for road use. We would drive each contender on a 100-mile road loop to validate its street-worthiness. That was it, and may the best car win.Let the record show that all of the big-­name hypercar tuners were asked to the ball, and that most of them begged off. Gale Banks, Alois Ruf, Willy Koenig, Andy Granatelli, Rick Brady of Pegasus Automobili, and Jerry Wiegert, father of the mythic Vector, declined. So did a host of hypercar owners—understandably so, in most cases. For one thing, machines in this lofty category often have price tags well into six figures. Who could know what expensive ills might befall them?[image id=’626d6848-63b9-433c-bee9-f4c50cd59086′ mediaId=’26d65e01-ccfe-4bcc-8c10-2d248809f5de’ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]And so it went, the wheat separating from the chaff, until five brave souls bearing seven wondrous cars—the Eagles—were left. And now they were descending on East Liberty, Ohio, at the appointed hour. Reeves Callaway anted up a pair of his twin-turbocharged Corvettes. Advertising exec Mike Burroughs handed us the keys to his thundering, 8.9-liter Keith Black Camaro. Michigan businessman Brian DeVries showed up with a twin-turbo Porsche 911 and a dead-stock Ferrari Testarossa. Hartmut Feyhl, AMG of North America’s technical director, standing in for his boss, Richard Buxbaum, idled up in a whisper-quiet Hammer. And Texan Bob Norwood brought his blood-­red, Chevrolet-powered, GTO-bodied 308. The festivities could begin.[editoriallinks id=’9ea31fc5-5b8b-433b-83fe-7d44c5781466′ align=’left’][/editoriallinks]The next morning, the TRC garage was a beehive of activity. The TRC day-shift mechanics eyed the strangers with curiosity, then pitched in to help like old friends. The C/D technical staff inspected each Eagle thoroughly. And there were tires to change. We weren’t about to go hypersonic on anything but the safest rubber. Two tire companies were kind enough to help our cause. Goodyear provided enough tires to outfit a Formula 1 team and sent us veteran tire engineer Reed Kryder to take temperatures, set pressures, and make sure the cars and the tires were properly matched. Michelin anted up fresh, carefully inspected TRX tires for the Testarossa and mailed us design engineer Kevin Clemens. Both tire men would prove invaluable to the safety of this event, and we thank them and their companies for their concern and largesse.[image id=’8f60e61a-da26-424f-b59b-5db1935bf4cf’ mediaId=’985aa358-f4c8-4fc0-86c7-f2c4f595dad7′ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]While the final tuning and tweaking were taking place, we stole out to the huge, banked oval to set up the kind of speed traps that state troopers man only in their wildest nightmares. Normally we would have canceled the effects of wind and grade by locating one trap on the front straight and one on the back; however, a large patch at the end of the back straight might have caused some of the cars to bottom at high speeds. We decided instead to set our traps on the front straight only, one at either end. Each car would circle the oval first in one direction, tripping the lights at one end of the straight; then in the opposite direction, through the other trap. JACircuits autocross timing lights would yield readings accurate to 0.1 mph. The two speeds for each car would then be averaged to produce its official top end.Considering that most of the contestants were one-offs, the testing would go amazingly smoothly. There would be five on-track breakdowns, but only one car would fail to complete the minimum of two timed runs necessary to register an official speed. And how the Eagles would fly! Beginning with the least swift, the finishing order was as follows:Seventh Place: Norwood Ferrari-Chevrolet GTONo Official Speed[image id=’8d613165-00cc-4168-91f6-79ae3a9b4f83′ mediaId=’f5e26c65-79a8-4ca1-817b-b722c64405d9′ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]In at least one way, the Ferrari-Chevrolet was the most exotic car in this test: it began life not as a car at all. Bob Norwood and his cohorts at Norwood Ferrari Ser­vice in Dallas, Texas, built it from scratch out of spare parts. Most of those parts are Ferrari: the 308GTB chassis, the Boxer brakes, and the factory GTO body panels. The fit and finish are exquisite; you might well take this red rocket for the real thing.Until it’s fired up, that is: the sting in its tail comes not from Maranello, Italy, but from Warren, Michigan. Norwood fitted his GTO with a longitudinally mounted 5.0-liter Chevy V-8 built to Can-Am racing specs and mated it to a ZF transaxle. He claims it develops 661 horsepower at 7800 rpm.[image id=’0858e809-085e-4956-867b-174cd7c5a6ef’ mediaId=’3df5c053-51f4-4da8-82be-9d0b1bcbd72c’ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’18×11′][/image]Unfortunately, the Ferrari spent most of its time at TRC on jack stands. A number of maladies struck it, from a loose belly pan to high-speed instability. Finally, our high-speed Hungarian, Csaba Csere, coaxed it through the traps at 187 mph.The return run never happened, thanks to the failure of a distributor-shaft seal. End of story. A few days later, Norwood towed his hybrid to Bonneville, but there were more problems; it turned “only” 193 mph on the salt flats.If everything had worked properly at TRC, the GTO should have hit at least 200 mph—though we suspect its racy character would have made it a bear to live with on our road loop. Unfortunately, we’ll never know.Norwood Ferrari-Chevrolet GTO661-hp V-8, 5-speed manual, N/A lbPrice: $100,000C/D TEST RESULTSTop speed: N/A mphSixth Place: Ferrari Testarossa172.9 mph [image id=’8d44680d-26b6-496c-9d66-777685050b9e’ mediaId=’905d335d-d13d-4aad-94ff-ee2067e47b6f’ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]The redhead from Maranello made it look easy. Going 173 mph in the Testarossa on the TRC oval was so simple, your Aunt Jane could have done it. The 380-hp, 48-valve twelve-cylinder revved to a taut, premium-quality howl, the wind whooshed, and the next thing we knew, we were there. The drivetrain, complete with catalysts and mufflers, felt as if it could have maintained the TR’s top speed forever. A topped-out TR gives you plenty of time to take in the sights—but you do notice that you have to steer it, even down the straights. As for the fact that the Testarossa at TRC was three miles per hour slower than our last TR test car, we can only cite the vagaries of time and mileage: Brian DeVries’s go-to-work Ferrari was two years and 16,000 miles old.[editoriallinks id=’3cce7019-3d64-4c0e-9288-9b5c3e1958e1′ align=’left’][/editoriallinks]On the road, the TR was a model citizen. Half of the cars in this test were so noisy that we couldn’t hear ourselves think in them, but the Testarossa’s engine was turbine smooth, its cabin refreshingly quiet. It had a fully operational climate­-control system—no small advantage on a hot summer day. Yes, we had to wrestle the gear lever through the gated shift plate, and the steering was numb on center—typical Testarossa behavior—but in general DeVries’s car was the picture of civility. You could drive a TR to the office every day, and that amounts to a very big compliment for an automobile that’s capable of flying on the ground.Ferrari Testarossa380-hp flat-12, 5-speed manual, 3760 lbPrice: $120,700C/D TEST RESULTSTop speed: 172.9 mphFifth Place: AMG Hammer181.4 mph[image id=’bda6c503-295a-432a-b867-8b5e28a33ab7′ mediaId=’13d0bfb1-db9e-4b7c-8404-f452bdaa2185′ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]If the Testarossa was impressive, the AMG Hammer was astounding. The Hammer is a sedan that sacrifices virtually nothing to the great god speed. It offers all the comfort and refinement of a standard Mercedes 300E, but with nearly 200 more horses and 45 mph more top speed.[editoriallinks id=’04db583f-9c7a-4887-9ed8-320f3108a122′ align=’left’][/editoriallinks]On the track, we found we could one­-hand the Hammer easily at 170 mph. It was so sure-footed that Csaba was able to hurl it around for one full lap with its throttle pinned flat—over the wavy pavement in the north banking, across the rough patch on the back straight. “No sweat,” Csaba concluded upon his return. In our after-hours acceleration testing it clicked off a zero-to-60-mph dash of just 5.0 seconds and ran the quarter-mile in only 13.2 seconds at 108 mph. All of this, mind you, with catalytic converters and mufflers in place. (We allowed the entrants to uncork their cars’ exhaust systems for testing, if they so desired.)[image id=’3f9deeea-7bc5-4fe9-baaf-57293f78e423′ mediaId=’312e2c7d-c7bf-4b24-9c4e-c740e4775cc1′ align=’left’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]Around town, the Hammer was so docile that no one suspected we had the devil himself under the hood. When we held the pedal down flat, though, a demonic howl let loose as the Hammer lunged through the atmosphere. As we bounded over the roads around East Liberty, we did find the one nit to pick: the Hammer’s squat suspension sunk into its bump stops so often that another inch or two of travel might be just what the doctor ordered.Aside from that one reservation, we were in hawg heaven behind the AMG’s thick-rimmed wheel. It’s not every day that an aftermarket outfit transforms a four-seat sedan into a car that can run and gun like a Testarossa—better even. Grooming it until it also has the manners of a duke is almost unheard of. In that respect, the Hammer was the most amazing Eagle in our gathering.AMG Hammer360-hp V-8, 4-speed automatic, 3600 lbPrice: $160,000C/D TEST RESULTSTop speed: 181.4 mphFourth Place: Callaway Corvette191.7 mph[image id=’2531462f-6e49-49e0-bc9d-7c70e85d2cb9′ mediaId=’25c3a367-008b-406a-9cdb-93f2778c66dd’ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]Reeves Callaway is a crafty sort, a former racer who likes to push the limits in other ways now. Last year his company sold 200 Twin-Turbo Corvettes. He came to TRC with two of them, loaded for bear.The car under discussion here is the 1988 production Callaway—well, not quite production, because Callaway and his merry band couldn’t leave well enough alone. They fitted the silver bullet’s turbos with larger turbine housings for more high-end efficiency. They rigged a spray system underhood to douse the intercoolers with water, further cooling the intake air. They offed the catalysts so that high­-octane race gas could be used—an added hedge against detonation. For 1988, all Callaways are pumped up to the same 381 horsepower as our test car—a 36-hp improvement. Callaway claims that the changes to the test unit fattened its power curve only modestly, if at all.[editoriallinks id=’abe42799-f0d4-49bd-960f-1baf3c51237d’ align=’left’][/editoriallinks]The aerodynamics of the test car were fine-tuned as well. The Callaway boys fitted it with the front air dam and rocker skirts from the Corvette aero package now available at Chevrolet dealers. They also bolted an extra lip onto the front air dam, further narrowing the gap to the road surface. Callaway rejected conventional wisdom, however, when it came to combating the destabilizing effects of high-speed lift at the rear—which Corvettes have in fair measure. No rear spoiler was fitted because, according to Reeves, “it would add drag.” To set the rear suspension at the desired ride height, 200 pounds of ballast was added to the luggage compartment.During our top-speed tests, the Callaway was street-car comfortable. On a warmup lap, Reeves sailed through the traps at 186 mph. After the mufflers had been removed, and with Don Sherman at the wheel, the silver Vette registered a one-way best of 195.5 mph.[image id=’7cfb3309-8ae1-4992-8d7f-3da67e18cf51′ mediaId=’e3863371-167e-4d1d-b82b-f6bedde4614a’ align=’left’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]It’s not clear how much the fine-tuning helped on the track, but it was of negative value on the street. The oversize turbos took longer to spool up than a stock Callaway’s, and a mysterious, intermittent misfire hobbled the engine.Otherwise, the Callaway behaved just as you’d expect a turbo Corvette to: as if it had a couple booster rockets strapped to its tail. Since everything but the drivetrain had been left as Chevy intended, the Callaway was all poise and no drama.What’s even more impressive about the Callaway is its 58-grand price. In the hypercar neighborhood, this is the cheapest house on the block.Callaway Corvette381-hp twin-turbo V-8, 4-speed automatic, 3450 lbPrice: $58,000C/D TEST RESULTSTop speed: 191.7 mphThird Place: Motorsport Design Porsche 911 Turbo202.5 mph [image id=’1ceb4d2e-f6a5-4bcb-8a9f-cf8e6c64ec3c’ mediaId=’0b3c2d91-f428-418d-87c1-99d412fa176c’ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]The Motorsport Design Porsche 911 Turbo crossed two thresholds simultaneously. The more important one for our purposes was the magic 200-mph mark, which it streaked across with ease. And while the three lower finishers in this test drove like street cars on amphetamines, there was a basic personality shift from there on up. The 911 felt like a race machine tamed barely enough for the road.The blue bullfrog was born fast. In its first incarnation it was a lightweight 911 Turbo (aluminum fenders, doors, and deck lid; no A/C or sunroof) modified by Ruf, the German tuning concern. When owner Brian DeVries decided he wanted enough power to light up western Michigan, John Stanchina and Rob Holcomb of Motorsport Design in Scottsdale, Arizona, had wrenches at the ready.[editoriallinks id=’90157f4e-8556-46aa-8078-7b5de0c454a8′ align=’left’][/editoriallinks]Starting with a stock 3.3-liter 911 Turbo engine, Motorsport added ported twin-plug cylinder heads, its own twin-turbo system, intake runners from a 962 race car, and custom fuel-injection electronics. One of DeVries’s companies fabricated the huge air-to-air intercooler that swaddles the engine. Pressurized with an incredible 21.8 psi of boost, the engine whomps out 646 horsepower at 7500 rpm.The Porsche, with Dr. Sherman at the controls, wailed through the traps with its hood caved in from wind pressure. No problem, said Sherman. “It was like falling off a log.” The hood even popped back into shape all by itself.[image id=’96537587-c180-42f4-a8d0-25770fb6c16a’ mediaId=’1c44ac17-ab1b-48af-928a-700cf4d96ff6′ align=’left’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]In the real world, the 911 was insanity with a license plate. Want a taste of AA/Fuel dragster? Snap the throttle open in first or second and fight to hold your head up. The twin-turbo 911 was a mind-bog­gling thrill ride, all right. Are 3.8 seconds to 60 mph and a quarter-mile of 12.0 seconds at 126 mph enough to keep you awake? This is IMSA GTP performance on the road: you’re busy trying to get slowed down for the corners, you hardly notice the handling.Unfortunately, the 911 faltered badly when asked to do what the lowliest econobox does on a milk run. The triple­-plate racing clutch was all lurches off the line. The engine quaked and spat under 3500 rpm. And when the revs were up, it was impossible to hold a steady speed. Stanchina blamed the half-developed fuel injection. “It was never made to be driven at part throttle,” he shrugged.The twin-turbo 911 was a mind-boggling thrill ride, all right, but its bad manners limited it to the weekend-toy category. Further development is planned. according to Stanchina and Holcomb. They also intend to sell replicas of the engine, as well as a number of hop-up kits based on it. As for the blue flash itself, Brian DeVries can look with pride at the ”Team 200-Plus” decal he stuck on its windshield before this test. He earned the right to keep it the hard way.Motorsport Design Porsche 911 Turbo646-hp twin-turbo flat-6, 5-speed manual, 2610 lbPrice: $175,000C/D TEST RESULTSTop speed: 202.5 mphSecond Place: Keith Black Camaro216.0 mph[image id=’1dad32f1-0366-4fb5-a29a-07e385722e6d’ mediaId=’3b26e637-9ee9-4f27-b3a0-af98d63a4529′ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]Now we’re really getting up into the rarefied air. The Keith Black Camaro represents the nothing-beats-cubic-inches philosophy: try 541 cubic inches (8.9 liters) of all-aluminum, Keith Black-manufactured Chevrolet V-8, pumping out 700 horses at 6000 rpm. Good golly, Miss Molly![editoriallinks id=’aa14f257-7680-4c1f-84ee-c673a371fd9f’ align=’left’][/editoriallinks]Keith Black originally built this car for a Hot Rod magazine article. Black, in case you don’t know, is a well-respected manufacturer of Fuel dragster and Funny Car engines. As if the KB Camaro needed any more credibility, owner Mike Burroughs showed up at TRC with eleven-time NHRA champ John Lingenfelter in tow. Lingenfelter had worked a little of his own tuning magic on the engine. As it turned out, he also saved the day at TRC, when a cam bearing went awry during the car’s first pass. The problem was relatively minor, but it required an all-night thrash.The next day, Lingenfelter blasted to 215.1 mph, and Sherman ran it back at 216.9, in two picture-perfect passes.[image id=’48c49f9c-36f4-4fb8-96d9-123d43289fa6′ mediaId=’dc8a9238-6f94-490a-aefc-56099acaeec8′ align=’left’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]The road drive was another story. The KB Camaro’s drivetrain was so tractable that we could idle down Main Street at 15 mph, but there were rough edges elsewhere. From its vision-robbing hood scoop to its huge engine’s cruel assault on our senses, the KB Camaro was too lewd and crude for anything but short trips. Its lowered suspension allowed its air dam and front crossmember to crash into the pavement time and again. Halfway through the road drive, the pounding split the oil pan open, and the world’s fastest Camaro had to be parked.Obviously, some of the things that helped the Keith Black Camaro to achieve its prodigious speed just didn’t work on the street. With another round of finessing, though, this woolly mammoth could almost be transformed into a purring kitten. Would you believe a purring lion?Keith Black Camaro700-hp V-8, 3-speed automatic, 3705 lbPrice: $80,000C/D TEST RESULTSTop speed: 216.0 mphFirst Place: Callaway Top Gun Corvette222.4 mph[image id=’f212e1e3-37f9-469e-a229-eaeabc3b68fb’ mediaId=’4f05663f-a624-4267-88e5-55febd9994ca’ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]Here’s one car that came by its nickname honestly. We hereby proclaim the Callaway Top Gun Corvette the fastest street car in America. It went an astounding 222.4 mph on the track, survived 100 miles on the road, and convinced us that it still had plenty of untapped potential.The Top Gun was under construction as a research-and-development project long before our invitation arrived. Callaway’s plan was, and is, to use it to study road-car turbocharging, aerodynamics, and cooling at the outer reaches of speed and power. No off-the-rack Callaway Corvette drivetrain could have done the job reliably, so a fresh one was brewed up. The ingredients include a 355-cubic-inch Chevy racing block, special Brodex heads, a one-off intake system, reworked GM electronic injection, dry­-sump lubrication, two large Rajay turbos, and a pair of huge intercoolers, located behind the front fascia where the tum signals normally live. (The signals were removed to provide airflow to the coolers.)The goal was 1000 horsepower. Callaway wouldn’t reveal the Top Gun’s maximum output, but reliable sources peg it at 900 ponies when the boost is set near the destruction threshold. Because a stock Corvette gearbox-and-overdrive assembly was used for this test, the boost was dialed down to 10.0 psi, and a mere 712 horse at 6750 rpm was on tap.Surprisingly, a huge front air dam was the Top Gun’s lone aero aid. To keep the wind from sucking the side glass and the hatch from the bodywork, special clips were added to the door-frames and the lower corners of the rear window.[image id=’e8186039-aec2-4eeb-ab32-d671b89c9875′ mediaId=’f43e550a-419d-4eb7-90df-cd427a021240′ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]Inside, the Top Gun had enough gauges, knobs, and buttons to sustain manned spaceflight. Every critical engine variable, from intercooler temperature to exhaust-gas temp, was measured. On the passenger’s side of the dash was a large control box that allowed the engine computer to be programmed on the roll. A five-point racing harness, a roll cage, and a fuel cell were installed for added safety. And, again, there were 200 pounds of sand in the cargo hold.The rest was pure Chevrolet—1986 Chevrolet, as a matter of fact. The Top Gun was fashioned from the same white Callaway prototype that graced our November 1986 cover—the same car that ignominiously puked coolant after one easy lap of the Michigan International Speedway road course. That was the other reason Reeves Callaway brought his quarter­-million-dollar machine to TRC: “Redemption,” he said with a grin.And redemption he got. Reeves himself ran the white car on its first run and brought it home at 214 mph. Later, he said he could have gone a lot faster but for a case of first-lap nerves.In light of what happened next, there was no reason to doubt him. On the return pass, yours truly at the wheel, the Top Gun screamed through the traps at 231.1 mph. Not bad for a car that had been completed only 48 hours earlier.Unfortunately, the lack of development time showed on the road. The Top Gunner may have been the contest winner, but it was nearly undrivable. There had been no time to calibrate its fuel-delivery curve below 4000 rpm, so the super Callaway shuddered like an old locomotive at low engine speeds. The plugs were fouled much of the time as well, so all-out blasts to the redline were few and far between.The Top Gun Corvette gimped along, noisy and hot (it had no A/C), but it was never unexciting. Of all the cars in our test, only the Porsche pushed our innards around with as much ferocity.As rough-mannered as the Top Gun was, we think it could be taught a new way of living pretty easily. Given Callaway’s close ties to GM engineering and his company’s own high level of in-house technology, he could probably tame his project car enough to make it livable. Given a little time, the Top Gun’s low-speed disease—its worst trait—could be cured. Air conditioning could be reinstalled. A stouter gearbox could be fitted.Mr. Callaway is considering all these measures as he contemplates his next moves. “I think I could duplicate this car for a hundred fifty or a hundred sixty thousand dollars,” he says, looking off into the distance. “I figure there must be five or six people in this country who might want a car like this.”Spoken like a true Eagle breeder.Callaway Top Gun Corvette712-hp twin-turbo V-8, 4-speed manual, 3470 lbPrice: $155,000C/D TEST RESULTSTop speed: 222.4 mphOver The TopTo 231 mph on turbocharged wings.I think I now know how the first astro­nauts felt as they watched the hatch slam shut. It came to me when I was in the Top Gun Corvette, with Reeves Callaway at the controls, both of us suit­ed up like spacemen. We were being sealed in for liftoff. There was a space­age control panel in front of me. The crew was snugging the windows up against the special anti-blowout strips that had been added to the doorframes.Reeves was nervous—very nervous—and that made me nervous, too. The guy had been coy with us about his car. He wouldn’t tell us how fast it would go or how much power it had, though any squid could see it was a monster.This squid was about to find out how big a monster. “Whoever drives this car better be prepared to go faster than he’s ever gone before,” Callaway had said while pulling on his racing suit. “A lot faster.” Now, in the driver’s seat, his nerves making him talk, Reeves was fi­nally letting some numbers slip. Did he really say “220 mph”? There, I heard it again. Oh, boy—what had I gotten my­self into?I had gone 180 mph earlier that morn­ing, but this would be a bigger jump than I wanted to make; it would be a leap. I was about to go where I’d never gone, where few men have gone: way out there. I had watched a couple of the other cars rush past at more than 200 mph, and the experience had been sobering. The simple act of driving in a straight line had suddenly looked lethal. The noise had been unlike any other: the whoosh of a jet fighter, mixed with the howl of an Indy car, seasoned with a pinch of wild­-animal roar. I had sensed the invisible fingers of the wind trying for a hand­hold, trying to rip pieces of bodywork off the cars. We’ve all seen sickening foot­age of NASCAR stock cars getting side­ways at 200-plus mph, fluttering into the air like paper airplanes, then crashing down like World War III. Every time a car had screamed past at 200 mph, I had thought, “That guy has got cojones to keep his foot in it all the way down the straight. If a spoiler rips off, or a tire gives out, or the engine blows on the banking…So as they buttoned us in for the first pass, I felt as if I were on the way to the moon. Maybe I’d be back. Maybe not. Reeves had other ideas, though. On the warmup lap, he slowed abruptly on the front straight, pulled in, and dropped me off. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable ex­posing anyone else to this kind of risk,” he said. Then he went 214 mph, the fast­est run to that point.I sat by myself in the grass, waiting for my turn. I didn’t feel like talking. This was a time for asking oneself, “What am I doing here?”—and I was asking. I’m finally grown up enough not to deceive myself about dangerous undertakings. Anything could go wrong, and I had a lot to lose. It had been a wonderful life so far. I loved my wife. I had a great job. I would hate myself if I wadded my body into a ball, just for a thrill.But then I heard that familiar voice in my head reciting the just-let-me-get-through-this-in-one-piece-and-I’ll-­never-do-it-again routine. All I wanted was one ride over the top, to the far side of 200. Just one taste. Maybe I’m not so grown up after all.By the time we were ready for the re­turn lap, the part of the psyche that gen­erally keeps us from seeing our mortality had turned on like a blinding spotlight. I belted in, feeling good. “Work into it,” counseled Reeves. I assured him—and promised myself—I’d only go as fast as I felt comfortable going.I eased out of the pits. On the back straight I decided I needed more infor­mation on the car’s high-speed behavior right now, so I squeezed the throttle. The Top Gun pulled from 150 to 190 mph as easily as most cars go from 50 to 90—and it fell rock-steady. My brain found the spigot marked “confidence” and turned it on full.I coasted across the wavy pavement in the north banking at 145 mph, then squeezed the trigger again. “You need 170 by the front straight,” Callaway had said. I was at 190 when I got there. I cen­tered the car on the track. The throttle hit the stop. I felt as if every nerve ending in my body were firing at the same time. I saw the speedo tick over 210 mph and stopped looking.The pit lane and the people standing in it got yanked backward in the blink of an eye. Then animal instinct took over. Funny, I didn’t feel courageous. A strange, detached calm came over me. There was no noise anymore, just a mov­ie of a road unreeling in front of me on fast forward. My world was focused now, down to essentials. Nothing mattered except keeping my foot down until I got through the traps, and then turning left at the end of the straight.The timing lights. Lift! Steer! The car bobbled, then moved up the banking to­ward the guardrail. Turn, damn it. The g-forces built abruptly. Then the car stabilized in the top lane. I stole a glance at the speedometer; it was still reading 186.I coasted down, feeling light and exu­berant. I whooped for joy. I had done what I had wanted to do. I had pushed my fear back into a little compartment and kept it there as I had ventured into the unknown. My foot had obeyed. I didn’t know how fast I had gone, but it didn’t matter.Back in the pits, they asked me how it felt to go 231. It felt so good, I could hardly sleep that night. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that the big speed was only part of what made my 7.5-mile trip so memorable.Yes, I’ll always have a magic number to trot out for my grandchildren, but the blinding-speed part of the program lasted only a few seconds. It’s the thrill of going to the edge, taking a look over the side, and then coming back to tell about it that I’ll cherish most. How Indy-car drivers operate at such velocities lap af­ter lap is incomprehensible. For that alone, they are heroes.I can be happy having done it just once. A few times in life you get a shot at your own personal Mount Everest, a chance to get way out there just for the thrill of it. The Top Gun Corvette was my ride over the top, and I’ll treasure the memory. Next time, though, the kids on the staff can do the driving. —RC[youtube align=’center’ autoplay=’0′]https://youtu.be/XI-g8TTriVI?t=0[/youtube]

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Memories are made up of all sorts of things: misconceptions, misplaced dreams, mishandled notes, plain mistakes. Throw in some years of fermentation, and what results is misremembering almost everything.We bring this up because Acura revived its Type S moniker on the 2021 TLX sedan as well as the upcoming 2022 MDX SUV. This was reason enough for Acura to acquire some primo used examples of its Type S models from yesteryear—as in 2006. I am currently wearing socks I bought in 2006. The company recently invited a select group of journalists to come drive them and gave me and my old socks a call.

Acura also cracked open the Honda museum and brought out a pristine, stupidly low-mileage 2001 Integra Type R for sampling. The opportunity to drive that car made it a pretty strong certainty that those invited would actually show up to the event at Southern California’s La Cañada Flintridge Country Club. Why there? Because it’s located just off Angeles Crest Highway, which connects greater Pasadena to less great Wrightwood over and through the San Gabriel Mountains. It’s 66 miles of fantastic road that attracts a steady stream of sports cars, motorcycles, and aggressively driven Hyundai Excels. Not a bad memory test—or at least a test of mistaken remembrance.
2006 Acura RSX Type SHitting the market after the Integra, Acura’s RSX had a tough act to follow. The Integra had been the small car that helped launched the Acura brand into the minds of enthusiasts, the entry point for many buyers who had aspirations for something beyond yet another dinky econo-hatch. From 1986 through 2001, the Integra went through three generations and earned a loyal and occasionally fanatical following. The RSX appeared for 2002 and wasn’t, well, so rapturously received. (Yes, the RSX was sold as the Honda Integra in Japan. Good on you for knowing that.) Compared to the old Integra, the RSX was bigger, heavier, and altogether more like other cars of the 21st century. It ditched the previous B-series four-cylinder engine that had powered the Integra in favor of Honda’s then-new K-series engine that displaced a full 2.0 liters. Variable valve timing and lift (aka VTEC) was still aboard, but Honda had tamed the system’s transitions in the K engines. And in the Type S, the K-series four was easygoing and relatively thick with torque, yet it still willingly romped to the high end of its rev range. When the RSX was updated for 2005, the engine received a bump from 200 to 210 horsepower, and the car’s suspension was tautened.
“The tweaks do add up to measurable results,” we reported in our January 2005 issue. “The ’05 Type S sprints to 60 mph in 6.2 seconds versus 6.3 for our ’02 comparo car, and it covers the quarter-mile in 14.9 seconds at 95 mph versus 15.0 at 94. These are respectable numbers, but we frankly expected them to be a little more respectable. Could an increase in curb weight of 68 pounds—attributable to body-shell stiffening and added sound damping—retard forward progress? It could.” In its last comparo from the September 2005 issue, the RSX Type S turned a 6.4-second zero-to-60-mph time but matched the 14.9-second quarter we’d previously measured.In 2021, the RSX Type S still feels like a substantial car, the sort of machine you approach with the affection that comes with familiarity. It’s quiet in a way the Integra never was, comfortable even by current standards, and utterly logical in how it was conceived and executed. Yeah, there’s no massive touchscreen connected to an iPhone, but in compensation the six-speed manual transmission shifts as if it was stitched to your hand’s tendons, the steering actually feels connected to the tires, and the engine delivers its (modest) power output seamlessly in that old fashioned way—with rpm. It may be front-wheel drive, but it seems to share an essence with older 2.0-liter sporty cars, such as the BMW 2002 tii and Alfa Romeo GTV.No, the RSX isn’t the raw-nerve wackadoodle the Integra Type R was, but a Type S isn’t a Type R. It’s compromised for everyday use. It rides well, the engine is never edgy, and the tires don’t roar against the tarmac. Yeah, it’s a shame there was never an RSX Type R. But for anyone on a limited budget who craves a compelling mechanical experience, a used RSX Type S is a solid choice. It’s as good as hazy memories and gooey recollections remembered it to be.
2007 TL Type SIs the 2007 TL sedan the car that highlights Acura’s peak or the bulldozer that plowed over the light-and-easy feel of previous Acura sedans in favor of stolid indomitability? Does this TL represent the moment Acura stopped being a Honda and instead became a Lexus? Here’s a chance to consider those vital questions in throwback Technicolor.The TL Type S employed a 3.5-liter version of Honda’s V-6 instead of the 3.2-liter used in other TL models. Rated at 286 horsepower and backed by a new five-speed automatic transaxle, it was robust power for 2007. Previous TLs had a delicacy about them, but this third-generation car was a linebacker. Blocky, thick shouldered, and surprisingly nimble. And that’s exactly what it feels like now.Yet, it’s not a particularly engaging car to drive. The controls are heavier feeling than what I remembered, the acceleration isn’t as sharp as I’d like, and there’s an isolation in the chassis that feels somewhat archaic. It’s as if the brand’s move toward crossovers wasn’t a very large one.
2003 3.2CL Type SRemember mid-size two-door coupes? Cars with big, long doors leading into cockpits built to carry two in comfort or four in restlessness? In 2021, nothing feels more archaic. But here was the second-generation CL with a V-6 in its nose and some eagerness in its character.With 260 horsepower aboard, the 2003 3.2CL Type S is not a rocket ship. But the dual-stage intake system used back then gives it a throaty induction growl that’s kind of like opening up the secondaries on an old V-8’s four-barrel carburetor. In the modern age of turbocharged ubiquity, there’s nothing quite like it. There’s a certain sense of memory that kicks in with the CL. It’s hard not to feel like the world has passed it by, yet the world should have kept some of it around.It’s a pain to get into the back seat. The trunk isn’t huge. But damn, coupes still look good.2001 Integra Type RThe Integra Type R is comprehensively archaic. Thin A-pillars, a cowl barely up to your thighs, and unframed door glass. Look at that steering wheel. It has horn buttons on its spokes because no one had figured out how to honk an airbag yet. The radio is a generic, single-DIN unit straight out of Circuit City, and the slider controls for its climate-control system could be in an AMC Matador. But after that, it’s all so logical. The instrumentation is in a single, easily scanned pod, the shifter is where an arm naturally falls, the visibility out is great, and every control feels as if it were Super Glued to a driver’s soul. The Integra Type R is raw, compelling, and already a true classic. Preserved-in-amber examples approach (or surpass) $100,000, and finding an affordable example that hasn’t been modified, stolen, recovered, modified some more, and stolen again is nearly impossible. But of all the things that the Type R brings back today, it’s that feeling of vulnerability. Screw up in this thing, and there’s not much car to insulate the driver from the consequences.
The Type R’s hand-assembled 1.8-liter B18C5 engine doesn’t so much idle as rollick. The Type R had its sound insulation minimized to cut weight, and at times it feels like the engine is positioned between your legs like a motorcycle’s. It’s rated at 195 horsepower, and that power comes at a banshee-screaming 8000 rpm—just 400 rpm short of the redline.The Integra Type R’s shifter is as good as any front-drive car’s has ever been. With distinct gates, light effort, and short throws, it’s an instinctive instrument. And you feel the cogs whirring away within it up into your palm. Low-end torque? Forget it. The torque peak is up at 7500 rpm, where most engines these days don’t even go, and even then there’s only 130 pound-feet of twist to work with. The challenge is to keep the engine boiling as close to that peak at all times. It’s an utter blast. And the chassis is, if anything, even better. The Type R’s control-arm front suspension keeps the tiny 195/55R-15 tires planted, while the tail tucks in obediently around corners. For a front-driver, driven within its limits, it has an amazingly neutral balance. Lightweight wheels, reasonably grippy tires, and hydraulically assisted power steering are rare now, but this car makes us wish they weren’t. No current Acura, not even the criminally underappreciated NSX, comes close to being as mechanically engaging as the Integra Type R. It’s still the car we hoped Acura would someday be. The new TLX Type S, which among other things has a turbocharged DOHC V-6 and a control-arm front suspension, may eventually prove to be one of Acura’s best cars. But it probably won’t be a legend like the Integra Type R still is today.

Specifications

Specifications
1997 Acura Integra Type R
VEHICLE TYPE
front-engine, front-wheel-drive, 2+2-passenger, 2-door coupe
ESTIMATED PRICE AS TESTED
$24,000
ENGINE TYPE
DOHC 16-valve inline-4, aluminum block and head, port fuel injectionDisplacement
110 in3, 1797 cm3Power
195 hp @ 8000 rpmTorque
130 lb-ft @ 7500 rpm
TRANSMISSION
5-speed manual
CHASSIS
Suspension (F/R): control arms/multilinkBrakes (F/R): 11.1-in vented disc/10.2-in discTires: Bridgestone Potenza RE010, 195/55R-15
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 101.2 inLength: 172.4 inWidth: 66.7 inHeight: 51.9 inPassenger volume: 74 ft3Cargo volume: 13 ft3Curb weight: 2560 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS*
60 mph: 6.6 sec100 mph: 17.9 secRolling start, 5–60 mph: 7.1 secTop gear, 30–50 mph: 8.9 secTop gear, 50–70 mph: 8.8 sec1/4 mile: 15.2 sec @ 93 mphTop speed (drag limited): 143 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 164 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.88 g
EPA FUEL ECONOMY
Combined/city/highway: 28/25/31 mpg
–
2002 Acura 3.2CL Type S
VEHICLE TYPE
front-engine, front-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 2-door coupe
PRICE AS TESTED (2002)
$33,180 (base price: $31,030)
ENGINE TYPE
SOHC 24-valve V-6, aluminum block and heads, port fuel injectionDisplacement
196 in3, 3210 cm3Power
260 hp @ 6100 rpmTorque
232 lb-ft @ 3500 rpm
TRANSMISSION
6-speed manual
CHASSIS
Suspension (F/R): control arms/multilinkBrakes (F/R): 11.8-in vented disc/11.1-in discTires: Michelin HX MXM4, P215/50R-17
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 106.9 inLength: 192.0 inWidth: 69.2 inHeight: 53.3 inPassenger volume: 90 ft3Trunk volume: 14 ft3Curb weight: 3481 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS*
60 mph: 5.9 sec100 mph: 15.2 sec130 mph: 31.0 secRolling start, 5–60 mph: 6.2 secTop gear, 30–50 mph: 10.2 secTop gear, 50–70 mph: 10.2 sec1/4 mile: 14.6 sec @ 98 mphTop speed (drag limited): 149 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 178 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.86 g
EPA FUEL ECONOMY
Combined/city/highway: 23/19/29 mpg
–
2008 Acura TL Type S
VEHICLE TYPE
front-engine, front-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door sedan
PRICE AS TESTED (2008)
$38,940 (base price: $38,940)
ENGINE TYPE
SOHC 24-valve V-6, aluminum block and heads, port fuel injectionDisplacement
212 in3, 3471 cm3Power
260 hp @ 6100 rpmTorque
232 lb-ft @ 3500 rpm
TRANSMISSION
6-speed manual
CHASSIS
Suspension (F/R): control arms/multilinkBrakes (F/R): 12.2-in vented disc/11.1-in discTires: Bridgestone Potenza RE030, 235/45R-17 93W
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 107.9 inLength: 189.8 inWidth: 72.2 inHeight: 56.7 inPassenger volume: 93 ft3Trunk volume: 13 ft3Curb weight: 3515 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS*
60 mph: 5.5 sec100 mph: 13.9 sec130 mph: 25.8 secRolling start, 5–60 mph: 5.8 secTop gear, 30–50 mph: 10.1 secTop gear, 50–70 mph: 9.8 sec1/4 mile: 14.1 sec @ 101 mphTop speed (governor limited): 150 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 163 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.93 g
EPA FUEL ECONOMY
Combined/city/highway: 21/18/27 mpg
–
2005 Acura RSX Type S
VEHICLE TYPE
front-engine, front-wheel-drive, 4-passenger, 2-door coupe
PRICE AS TESTED (2005)
$24,240 (base price: $24,240)
ENGINE TYPE
DOHC 16-valve inline-4, aluminum block and head, port fuel injectionDisplacement
122 in3, 1998 cm3Power
210 hp @ 7800 rpmTorque
143 lb-ft @ 7000 rpm
TRANSMISSION
6-speed manual
CHASSIS
Suspension (F/R): struts/control armsBrakes (F/R): 11.8-in vented disc/10.2-in discTires: Michelin Pilot HX MXM4 Radial XSE, P215/45R-17 87V M+S
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 101.2 inLength: 172.4 inWidth: 67.9 inHeight: 54.9 inPassenger volume: 80 ft3Cargo volume: 16 ft3Curb weight: 2843 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS*
60 mph: 6.4 sec100 mph: 16.6 secRolling start, 5–60 mph: 7.2 secTop gear, 30–50 mph: 9.6 secTop gear, 50–70 mph: 9.3 sec1/4 mile: 14.9 sec @ 95 mphTop speed (drag limited): 142 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 176 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.88 g
EPA FUEL ECONOMY
Combined/city/highway: 26/23/31 mpg
*Acura RSX Type S test results from C/D, September 2005; Acura 3.2CL Type S test results from C/D, July 2002; Acura Integra Type R test results from C/D, March 1997. All test results adhere to our old procedure of using a 3-mph rollout and not our new practice of 1-foot rollout.

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First they denied us the hatchbacks, then the sedans, and now even Ford’s more interesting crossovers aren’t being sold in the United States. And we’re not the only ones feeling the loss. The European-market Puma ST has won the attention of Ford CEO Jim Farley, who tweeted that he’d love for the company to bring it stateside. Which is why we arranged to drive one in the United Kingdom. The Puma name was first used by Ford of Europe for a two-door baby coupe based on the Fiesta hatchback and sold between 1997 and 2001. (It is now probably best remembered for having led to the creation of this Bullitt-inspired ad with the groundbreaking CGI inclusion of Steve McQueen.) The new Puma, launched in 2019, shares nothing with this earlier car except the fact it, too, has the underpinnings of a Fiesta and a certain fleeting similarity in headlight design.
Like the Fiesta ST Mk 7 we drove in 2018, the Puma ST uses a turbocharged 1.5-liter inline-three that produces 197 horsepower, the same as the turbo 1.6-liter four-cylinder of the previous-generation Fiesta ST that was sold in the U.S. But with 236 pound-feet of torque, the ST Puma makes 22 pound-feet more than its Fiesta sibling. Power is routed to the front axle through a six-speed manual gearbox.

The technical sophistication is limited—the Puma shares the Fiesta’s low-tech torsion-beam rear axle—but the ST is a hoot to drive. It feels raw, keen, and exciting in a way that very few baby crossovers are allowed to be, behaving pretty much exactly like a taller and firmer version of a hot hatch. The suspension settings are stiffened to both impart a sense of dynamic purpose and to keep the Puma’s slightly raised center of gravity in check. The ride always feels hard and sometimes borders on uncomfortable, especially over rougher surfaces at lower speeds. The combination of firm springs, the engine’s abundance of low-down torque, and a quick-acting steering rack also creates noticeable torque steer and a tendency to tramline, although never enough to divert the ST too far from a chosen line. Our test car came with the optional performance pack, which adds a Quaife limited-slip differential that helps the Michelin Pilot Sport 4S tires find impressive front-end grip, even in greasy conditions.
The ST’s puppy-like enthusiasm creates a car that feels faster than it actually is. Ford claims a 6.7-second zero-to-62-mph time, and the engine is happy to help try to achieve that. Like many three-cylinders, it sounds like a hard-worked V-6. But the motor’s breathless top end means it feels happiest when shifted a bit before the rev counter turns red, dropping right back down into the punchy midrange. The gearchange has a solid weight and smooth action. Ford still does transverse-mounted manual gearboxes better than almost anyone else, even if drivers in the U.S. don’t get the chance to experience them. The Puma’s brakes also bite hard and strong, with a solid pedal that resisted fade under hard road use. Although bigger inside than the Fiesta, the Puma’s compact dimensions are most evident in its cabin. Headroom is generous, but the front occupants are positioned close together. The Puma shares its dashboard and switchgear with the Fiesta, with the ST getting a sports steering wheel, a metal and leather shifter and huggy Recaro sports seats standard. There is also an 8.0-inch central touchscreen running Ford’s Sync 3 infotainment system. Subjective quality feels higher than that of the last U.S.-market Fiesta, but there are still plenty of areas of cheap trim if you look for them.
The driving experience lacks much in the way of refinement. The Puma cruises happily at rapid highway speeds, but the combination of road noise and a fidgety ride makes longer journeys wearing. There are four switchable dynamic modes—Normal, Eco, Sport, and Track—but none of them softens the non-adjustable dampers. The 11.9-gallon fuel tank also felt small given the ST’s thirst under hard use. We averaged an indicated 30 mpg, and the fuel light came on well before 300 miles on a tank.But the Puma has an abundance of personality and feels like a worthy recipient of its ST badge. It’s certainly a far more compelling car than the cheap, cheerless EcoSport that Ford offers in the U.S. But the Puma is also considerably more expensive, with a starting price translating to roughly $33,500 at current exchange rates. Our test car’s addition of a performance pack, a driver-assistance pack, and power tailgate take it to $36,350. Given the Puma’s price and the complications of getting it federally approved and imported from the factory in Romania that builds it, it seems unlikely that this particular Ford will get to cross the Atlantic—even if it does have friends in high places.

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If you haven’t been raptly following the nuances of the Lincoln Navigator lineup, the 2020 model year brought the Reserve Monochromatic package, which is highlighted by black wheels and a body-color grille, along with a general reduction in shiny trim pieces. But what if you want, say, the Black Label—the top of the food chain, Navigator-wise—with the monochromatic package? Well, some said it couldn’t be done, but Lincoln found a way to put black wheels on that one, too. Thus, we have a new flagship Lincoln SUV, the 2021 Navigator Black Label with the Special Edition package. No longer must Black Label owners hire freelance Plasti Dip artists to bring their Navigators closer to monochrome spec.[editoriallinks id=’0020fc93-da8f-4ae7-9035-cbbc166e348a’ align=’left’][/editoriallinks]The Special Edition package costs $6695, which seems mildly extortionate for a selective reduction of brightwork—especially given that the monochromatic package costs $3270 on the Reserve trim. But on the Black Label it includes a black roof, for a throwback two-tone look. It’s available with most exterior colors except black, possibly because Lincoln is saving that for an inevitable Midnight Edition in 2022 or 2023. A Navigator Black Label starts at $99,420, and a rear-seat entertainment system ($2000) and inflatable rear seatbelts ($250) are essentially the only options. (Our tester had neither.) The long-wheelbase L model adds $3200. Yes, that is a lot of money, and no, they’re not throwing incentives at it, either. Navigator sales were up 26 percent in the first quarter of this year, and over at Cadillac they’re selling every Escalade they can build. In a few more months, the Hamptons will be lousy with the new Jeep Grand Wagoneer. In the new Roaring Twenties, however long they may last, big three-row domestic luxury SUVs are a hot commodity. [image id=’9dd64f24-4c9f-47b7-9977-335a35b2e3b6′ mediaId=’49cc9796-0538-4965-ac15-f3eabc08a723′ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’6×4′][/image][pullquote align=’center’]HIGHS: Zero to 60 mph in 5.2 seconds, lavish interior, design still looks fresh three years after its introduction.[/pullquote]And suddenly, the Navigator—redesigned for the 2018 model year—is the oldest SUV in its segment. It doesn’t feel dated, however, especially in terms of its power delivery. The 450-hp twin-turbo 3.5-liter V-6—feel free to call it the Raptor engine—flings the vast Lincoln from rest to 60 mph in 5.2 seconds, which is only 0.1 second behind a relatively dainty Audi SQ5. The quarter-mile requires just 13.8 seconds, at the end of which the Navigator is traveling at 100 mph. Those figures are good enough to beat the last Raptor we tested. More important, they trounce the Navigator’s natural foe, the Escalade. That Cadillac, with its naturally aspirated V-8, hits 60 in 5.9 seconds and does the quarter-mile in 14.4 seconds at 96 mph. Drag-strip starts aside, the Navigator’s 510 pound-feet of torque make it feel effortlessly powerful in everyday driving, as befits a barge that has 30-way power-adjustable front seats and an available interior theme dubbed Yacht Club, complete with blue leather seats and white teak wood trim. With a tow rating as high as 8700 pounds, the Navigator can also tow a decent-sized yacht’s tender.[image id=’bf2b11a8-8b0c-4f7b-b3fc-2d40b61c28d4′ mediaId=’72b86708-b96a-41eb-951b-f92a7e25d6f3′ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image][pullquote align=’center’]LOWS: Black wheels, trim, and roof cost an additional $6695?[/pullquote]A boat trailer that size would have its own brakes, which is important because the Navigator’s stoppers already have their work cut out halting 6066 pounds of Black Label. Our test truck’s 182-foot stop from 70 mph isn’t poor, and the first four stops were consistent. But the next three grew progressively longer, and our test driver noted that one more run might’ve seen brake fade become brake failure. But if you’re not running hot laps on a racetrack, they should be sufficient. Rolling on 22-inch Hankook Dynapro HT all-season tires, the Black Label’s middling 0.76 g of lateral grip is another telltale sign that the Navigator, while all ate up with boost, isn’t built to take on Durango Hellcats.Although it’s been three years since its debut, the Navigator still does an excellent job of convincing you that it has little to do with the Ford Expedition and is in fact the sort of domestic royalty worthy of an interior design scheme called Chalét. (Yes, with an accent.) But as for the Special Edition, we’d suggest that some brightwork actually suits a Navigator. And $6695 buys a lot of Plasti Dip.[vehicle type=’specpanel’ vehicle-body-style=” vehicle-make=” vehicle-model=” vehicle-model-category=” vehicle-submodel=” vehicle-year=”][/vehicle]

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From the March 2005 issue of Car and Driver.The six-cylinder E-class sits smack in the middle of Mercedes’ huge lineup and has until recently been ignored like a quiet middle child. Back before Mercedes started dropping V-8s into the mid-size E-class, the six-cylinder E-class was the shining star of the Benz squad-sportier than the S-class but more accomplished than the C-class and the 190E before it. In 1994 the E320 arrived with an inline-six that had 217 horsepower. The last of the E320s has 221 horsepower from an 18-valve V-6. It’s hard to imagine going more than 10 years without a significant increase in power, but the E320 had to go through two generations with basically the same output. Now, that’s neglect. In the intervening years, seemingly average cars have surpassed the output of the once proud E320. But despite lacking class-leading acceleration, an E320 squeaked out a one-point victory in a seven-car comparo [C/D, March 2003]. So in hopes of keeping its spot on the top of the heap, Mercedes is swapping the old V-6 for the more powerful 24-valve DOHC 3.5-liter V-6 introduced in the SLK roadster.

Packing 268 horsepower, 47 more than the 3.2-liter it replaces and only seven less than the 4.3-liter V-8 from the previous-generation E-class, the E350 accelerates with a renewed sense of urgency. Mercedes claims the E350 lops off 0.7 second from the dash to 62 mph. The last E320 we tested in ’03 did away with 60 mph in 7.4 seconds, so we expect the E350 to run to 60 in less than seven. In the E-class the 3.5-liter doesn’t pin you to the seat as it does in the lighter SLK350, nor will it threaten the superiority of the E500’s 302 horsepower and 339 pound-feet of thrust, but the gain in acceleration is noticeable.The 3.5-liter is a development of the 90-degree 3.2-liter V-6 that debuted in 1997. Bore and stroke have been increased to bring the displacement to 3.5 liters, there are now four valves per cylinder instead of three, and compression increases from 10.0:1 to 10.7:1. Those valves are actuated by four cams that benefit from variable timing on the exhaust and intake sides. Torque jumps from the 3.2-liter’s 232 pound-feet to 258, available at 2400 rpm.Making the most of the healthy power band is Mercedes’ seven-speed automatic transmission with the hip-hop friendly name of 7G-Tronic. Initially only available on eight-cylinder Benzes, the seven-speed will eventually latch onto all Mercedes engines. Compared with the five-speed, the new transmission has closer ratios as well as a lower first gear (benefiting acceleration) and a taller top gear (to boost fuel economy). All-wheel-drive, or 4MATIC, versions of the E350 will soldier on with the five-speed automatic because there is not enough room for the slightly larger seven-speed and the all-wheel-drive transfer case.Accelerate at less than wide-open throttle, and it’s unlikely you’ll notice the seven-speed transmission busily moving through its numerous cogs. Introduce the pedal to the floor long enough to force a shift at the 6400-rpm redline, and you’ll barely see a drop in revs as the transmission whips from first gear to second. Marry the pedal to the floor, and the E350 will whisk you almost inaudibly to a governed Euro velocity of 155 mph. U.S.-bound E350s will be governed at 130 mph. The transplant from the SLK350 to the E-class has entirely changed the character of the 3.5-liter V-6. In the SLK, engine intake and exhaust noise is always present, although never intrusive; in the E350, the intake noise wouldn’t qualify as a whisper, and the exhaust has been similarly emasculated. We understand the subdued nature of the E350 is appropriate for a sedan, but we just love the way the SLK sounds, so we were disappointed that the new engine wasn’t allowed to do its Ferrari impersonation. The E-class is only the second stop on the new engine’s tour of the Mercedes lineup. Soon the 3.5-liter V-6 will be as ubiquitous as steroids in baseball, giving a boost to several models starting with a C-class version, which we’ll get in the States, and CLS-, SL-, and S-class versions, which we won’t get. The E350 goes on sale this month as a 2006. Although Mercedes was coy about exact pricing, buyers shouldn’t expect to pay much more for the added power and content of the E350; the base E320’s price started a few dollars south of 50 grand, and the E350’s should start a few dollars north. The changes are welcome, and the resulting E350 is a happier car than the E320. And that’s what every middle child needs and wants-attention.

Specifications

SPECIFICATIONS2066 Mercedes-Benz E350 VEHICLE TYPE Front-engine, rear- or 4-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door sedan or 5-door wagonESTIMATED BASE PRICE $51,000ENGINE TYPE DOHC 24-valve V-6, aluminum block and heads, port fuel injection Displacement: 213 cu in, 3498ccPower (SAE net): 268 bhp @ 6000 rpmTorque (SAE net): 258 lb-ft @ 2400 rpmTRANSMISSION 5-speed automatic, 7-speed automaticDIMENSIONSWheelbase: 112.4 in Length: 189.7-190.9 inWidth: 71.7 in Height: 57.0-59.0 inCurb weight: 3700-4200 lbPERFORMANCE RATINGS (MFR’S EST)Zero to 62 mph: 6.9-7.4 secTop speed (governor limited): 130 mphPROJECTED FUEL ECONOMY (MFR’S EST)European combined cycle: 22-24 mpg

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Over the last few years, British automakers have started to mount hostile incursions into what used to be each other’s sovereign territory. Aston Martins have become more pliant and comfortable. Rolls-Royces have grown modestly more athletic. And now Bentley is making a push into much more focused driving dynamics with the new Continental GT Speed.There have been Speed versions of Bentley models before now, but these have largely just added horsepower, rather than sharpening handling to any significant degree. But the new GT Speed takes a different path. Sure, W.O.’s company says it is quicker than the already rapid Continental GT W12 it is based on, but only just. Its twin-turbo 6.0-liter W-12 makes 650 horsepower—a 24-hp increase—but also produces the same torque peak of 664 pound-feet. Bentley says the Speed shaves a tenth of a second from the W12’s zero-to-60-mph time, which should translate to a 3.1-second dash when we get around to testing one. Top speed also improves by a similarly trivial margin, increasing from a claimed 207 mph to 208 mph. These are details that even the hardest-charging GT Speed drivers are unlikely to notice.

The other changes are more significant. The Speed is the first Continental to get rear-wheel steering to simultaneously sharpen its responses and improve high-speed stability. It also gains a new electronically controlled limited-slip differential so as not to make a one-tire fire out of one of the summer rubber wrapping 22-inch wheels. There is also a more pronounced rearward bias for the car’s all-wheel-drive system and a recalibration of the GT’s electronic sentinels, including what the company’s engineers refer to as a “more charismatic” Sport mode for the stability control. Our drive of the new GT Speed was restricted to the United Kingdom’s Silverstone race circuit, apparently due to delays in certifying the car for road use in Britain. It was a limited experience in an atypical environment, but it did prove that—unlike most of its predecessors—the Speed seems to actually enjoy hard track use.
While the revised chassis did impress, the Speed’s modestly altered W-12 engine remains its starring feature. The Speed gets new turbochargers to improve responses. While the torque peak moves slightly higher in the rev range, the horsepower peak hits at 5000 rpm and remains flat to 6000 rpm, the engine’s previous peak point. But the overall experience is almost entirely as we remember it from earlier examples. This venerable engine might be nearing its retirement party—Bentley claims it will produce its last non-electrified powertrain as soon as 2025—but even as the sand runs down, it still feels like a modern engineering achievement.On public roads, where full throttle only ever comes in small doses, we know that the effortlessness of the W-12’s muscle tends to be its defining characteristic. But on Silverstone’s fast GP circuit, the mighty engine forgot its soft voice and wielded a very big stick, turning snarling and savage as it enabled huge velocities on the circuit’s straights. While loud under full throttle (even when experienced through the padding of a helmet), the Speed has lost some of the pops and bangs we remember brawnier versions of this engine making in previous models.
Other roadgoing Bentleys have been as good at delivering straight-line speed as this one, but none of its predecessors felt this accomplished when it comes to shedding velocity or carrying it into corners. We sampled a car fitted with the optional carbon-ceramic brake system, with 17.3-inch front rotors that Bentley says are the biggest in the world. Stopping power felt both massive and relentless. Even when repeatedly hauling the 5000-plus-pound car down from triple-digit speeds, the brake pedal remained firm and linear.The Speed’s mass remained evident when asking it to change direction, but the suite of active systems work together to help it turn. Like the regular Continental, the Speed gets Bentley’s active anti-roll bars, which counteract body roll with a 48-volt electric motor. The contribution of the new rear steering system was well disguised, although doubtlessly helpful; at higher speeds it turns the rear wheels very slightly in phase with the fronts to impart unbreakable stability. Pressing harder in Silverstone’s tighter corners with the stability control in either its Sport mode or deactivated proved that the Speed could indeed be persuaded into power oversteer, holding this unlikely state with remarkable aplomb for something so big and heavy. The expression “drift mode” wasn’t dare used by any of the engineers at Silverstone, but that is clearly what this newfound dynamic freedom is meant to replicate.
The Speed is clearly a sharpened GT rather than a pure-blooded sports car, and we have little doubt it will be as accomplished on the street as its less aggressive siblings. On track, the gearbox felt a little out of its comfort zone, the eight-speed dual-clutch automatic shifting quickly and cleanly, but without the snappy forcefulness of most of its ilk. Even in Sport mode and with the transmission under manual control, it still upshifted automatically at redline. It would be nice to be able to hold it there for a second or so in the face of an approaching braking zone. We also found that the Speed’s quilted leather seats, although beautifully trimmed, were lacking the lateral support of true track specials, leading to a degree of lateral ass slippage under prolonged cornering loads.All of that is unlikely to matter. Bentley knows that hard circuit driving will only ever be a small part of the duty cycle for a typical GT Speed. Its on-track talents will be more “can” than “will” for most buyers. But presuming the chassis changes work just as well on real roads, there seems little doubt this will become the most appealing version of the Continental GT, as well as the most expensive, when it goes on sale later this year.

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From the April 2002 issue of Car and Driver. Say what you will about the cheese-block lines and frumpy two-tone paint schemes of the outgoing Mercedes-Benz SL, it was no slave to fads. For 13 years the R129, as Mercedes engineers knew it, bucked changing fashions to embody the company’s traditional love of precision engineering, contemporary technology, and restrained design. It was a silk pinstripe on a rack of polyester pretenders.

And as the R129 points its rectilinear nose into the sunset, it’s reasonable to expect that the replacement, the R230, which pioneers a new electrohydraulic brake technology (see sidebar) and has a folding hardtop whose choreography would stand with a Bolshoi number, will emulate the pattern. Germans make things to endure. The Brandenburg Gate survived the Halifax bomber, for example. So shall the conservative SL stay its course against the fashion onslaught of chichi new droptops. Or will it? Today’s plutocrats want more than just safe, dignified transportation, and Mercedes’ competitors are lining up to give it to them. The Porsche 911 Cabrio offers more performance, the BMW Z8 more exclusivity, the Jaguar XK8 has a more coddling interior and classically evocative lines, and the Lexus SC430 is more avant-garde. The old SL may have been content to be timeless executive wear, but the new SL wants to be this season’s sauciest slip-on.Just look at the way it flaunts itself in public. Mercedes’ stylists lengthened the wheelbase by 1.8 inches, widened the track by about an inch, and shortened the overhangs to give it a road-inhaling stance. They folded down the windshield to a garish rake and draped the aluminum sheets in an alluring wedge over the big wheels. The scandalous curves are a magnet for attention and moved one young male passerby to exclaim, “Man, you must get all the women.”

Highs: Slippery sheet metal guarantees status with the valet, a shoo-in if the Nobel committee awarded a prize for droptop mechanisms.

Don’t be fooled. We don’t get the women, and the new SL, despite its gorgeous shape, proves to be only a halfhearted extrovert once you take a closer look. For one thing, the stylists seem to have hit the creative wall after penning the lascivious profile. The nose bears a stock four-sided corporate grille bracketed by a variant of the C-class Mr. Peanut-shaped headlights—livened up somewhat with a tighter waist (Mrs. Peanut?). But the real offenses in our eyes are the hood and fender vents, which look cheap and gape ostentatiously. What fashion crime did the last SL’s artfully subtle slots commit?More important, the new SL moves the driving-excitement needle only incrementally, rather than substantially, out on the road. True, the new car finds 60 mph a full 0.5 second sooner than the last SL500 we tested ( C/D, December 1989), even though its SOHC 302-hp, 24-valve V-8 produces 20 horsepower less than Mercedes’ old DOHC 32-valve V-8. And the holding power on the skidpad was a very sticky 0.88 g, 0.06 g better than the SL500 we tested in ’89. Some credit goes to the fitment of the optional Sport package, which includes side and rear fascia changes and 18-inch wheels wearing the latest Z-rated Michelin Pilot Sports, upsized to 285/40 in the back.

But the dividends to steering precision and road communication from the revised chassis haven’t fully accrued to the overall experience. The SL now enjoys more lively rack-and-pinion steering, but there’s still too much cushion in the weights and responses, too much old software left over from the luxury-car department to make the wheel as sharp as it could be. For example, if the SL were a true sports roadster, the steering would give you the good, the bad, and even the irrelevant news. This SL provides a brief executive summary. Some of the SL’s dynamic shortcomings can be blamed on the weight, which despite the aluminum sheets and magnesium door castings is still 4172 pounds, about the same as a Jeep Grand Cherokee Limited. The Active Body Control system directs a hydraulic ram above each coil spring to continuously alter its spring rate in order to counter body roll, pitch, and dive. This limits the body motions in long sweepers and during hard applications of the pedals, but this heavy mechanism can’t make the car feel less massive than it is all by itself. And except for allowing Mercedes to choose softer springs than it might have otherwise, ABC doesn’t do anything for the ride quality, which is on the tranquil side but which degenerates into quivering concussions over Midwestern frost heaves.

The trademark trapezoidal instrument cluster is among the Mercedes icons relegated to the dustbin in the new SL. The substitute is a pair of sculpted, hooded dials that take the most direct cue not from the lumpy 300SLs of the ’50s or the pagoda-roofed SLs of the ’60s, but from generations of dearly departed Alfa Romeo spiders. The climate-control plate recalls something less savory–we’re thinking Madonna’s chrome brassiere–and the twin aluminum rings that control the temperature for driver and passenger wobble slightly in their races and feel as if they were pilfered from the Hyundai parts bin. Mercedes did manage to blend the conflicting themes of retro wood and nouveau brushed aluminum into a warmer, more spacious, and more organic interior than in the previous SL. The exception is the door armrests, which are as hard as pig iron and brutal to the elbows. At least one can flip up the armrest to open the storage bin underneath and perch the elbow on the much softer spine of the leather-bound owner’s manual.

Lows: A few chintzy and duplicative design details, steering and brakes left some unimpressed.

The most familiar item in the cockpit is the COMAND system panel, which includes densely packed buttons for the radio, phone, and GPS-based navigation functions. The voice-activation feature and the oval steering-wheel buttons help sort it out, but using the system remains as taxing as herding cats. Another thing you can’t do without straining is load the CD changer. The slot above the COMAND screen accommodates one music CD or one of the 11 navigation CDs (there’s still no one-disc DVD system available); the changer is nestled in the left of the two cubbies behind the seats. We find that an odd place to put it, considering a Ford Focus can be optioned with an in-dash changer. At least Mercedes has created a serene environment in which to enjoy the radio. With the top erected, the atmosphere is hushed enough to hear your passenger’s tendons snapping during a postnap stretch. However, the draining of the sound swamp did expose at least one evolutionary throwback wriggling in the mud. At about 2100 rpm, a hollow, moaning resonance disturbs the cabin, thanks to an offensive frequency in the exhaust or powertrain that excites the surrounding body. A new thing the car pictured here doesn’t have, but which we sampled at Mercedes’ introduction, is Keyless Go. It’s a transponder shaped like a credit card that unlocks the car and allows the driver to start and stop it by pushing a button on the shifter. It promises to make a lost art of inventing new curses to call forth misplaced keys. There is no price on the option yet.The SL’s new top is without doubt the category killer. Flip up the paddle switch at console center (the small buttons to manually raise and lower the roll bar are hiding underneath), and wait 16 seconds while the aluminum and glass panels separate, somersault flat, and stack efficiently in the trunk. Once deposited, the top leaves just enough space to wedge in his and hers golf bags.

The Verdict: Incremental improvements served up in a flamboyant new wrapper.

The cavity is accessible by pushing a red button on the trunk sill that electrically tilts the entire top stack to a 20-degree angle. A louver in the trunk that must be in place before the top will come down prevents potato chip crushing. With the top stowed and the stretchy mesh wind deflector in position, the occupants can debate their destination at conversational levels right up to 80 mph.The new SL’s terrific top and improved performance are the best excuses to cash in an old softtop SL and simultaneously rid the garage of its bulky detached hardtop. If those aren’t reasons enough, consider that the $87,000 price may ultimately be the cheapest way to completely overhaul your appearance. Counterpoint Aside from an automatic climate-control system that looks as if it came from a pre-WWII Tatra, the latest SL advances the state of its breed and is a real looker. In fact, it could be argued that this is the coolest Mercedes sheetmetal since the 300SL Gullwing. It’s also comfortable, techno-trick, reasonably quick (for something that still scales in north of two tons), and reasonably agile (ditto). But unless you’re into such accessories as trophy wives and gold Rolexes, the new SL just isn’t the sort of device that raises pulse rates. If you like envy, this ride’s for you. If you want adrenaline, better wait for the AMG version. —Tony Swan Robinson drove the SL500 home from Arizona, reminding me of a similar jaunt I made in the original 600SL. That car, too, was a people magnet, a serene cruiser, and a rocket sled. That car made me feel like a power broker, and so does this one, except here I feel like an addled magnate. Setting the clock took 15 minutes of tinkering, followed by an embarrassing consultation of the owner’s manual. The futuristic top and by-wire brakes set new benchmarks, and the sinuous sheetmetal recalls elements of the original 300SL. I like it all, but I wish the dash controls were simpler. Simple controls would qualify as retro chic, wouldn’t they? —Frank Markus Is there anyone in America who doesn’t pay a little more attention to the driver of a Mercedes SL? The car is such a universal icon of tasteful style and refined substance that it magically confers those qualities on anyone who drives one. The SL performs this alchemy because for nearly 50 years it has represented automotive excellence. The original Gullwings were close cousins to Le Mans winners. The recent ones have bristled with cutting-edge technology. The one common thread has been visual beauty, and this fifth-generation SL is the prettiest one in the past 30 years. It’s sure to keep those valets standing up a little straighter. —Csaba CsereBraking The MoldThis new SL introduces the most significant wrinkle to stoppers since the advent of anti-lock brakes: computer-operated brakes that take control of the calipers in a way no human could emulate without four brake pedals and the feet to work them. The underhood heart of the Sensotronic Brake Control (SBC) system is a large aluminum valve block fitted with an electric motor for maintaining 2000 to 2300 psi of fluid pressure in an adjacent hydraulic accumulator. When you hoof the brake pedal—an electronic sensor with a spring-loaded plunger to mimic brake resistance but not the annoying ABS pushback—the computer flutters the solenoid-operated valves inside the block, releasing pressure from the accumulator to the otherwise conventional steel lines heading out to the calipers.The computer thus has ultimate command over the pressure each caliper receives (a redundant master cylinder provides pressure to the front calipers in case of power failure) and uses its position of responsibility to provide some extra capability. For example, the system varies the brake pressure not only fore and aft but also from side to side, applying increased pressure on the laden outside wheels in a turn while relaxing the inside calipers to prevent lockup. The computer also monitors for sudden releases of the accelerator, in which case it assumes a panic situation is brewing and pumps up pressure while snuggling the pads against the rotors to prepare for a hard stop. In the rain, the system will imperceptibly pulse the brakes every few minutes to keep the pads dry, and over time it will learn your driving style and tailor the brake response.Considering it’s the first shot at virtual brakes, Mercedes and supplier Bosch got it mostly right. Tip into the pedal as lightly as you can, and the initial engagement is undetectable. Whack the pedal hard, and the car freezes in 155 feet from 70 mph, or 10 feet shorter than a Ferrari 360 Modena F1 ( C/D, September 2000). Do it six times rapidly, and the distance grows by just nine feet, still better than the Modena’s best. The SL’s brakes also accept stomps in mid-apex without relying on ABS or squirreling the car into oversteer. The system’s opaqueness increases during prolonged mid-effort applications, such as when rolling up to a stop sign. The pedal acquires supersensitivity, adjusting the pressure out of proportion with small pedal movements. Suddenly, it feels as if the car is lurching ahead when all you meant to do was ease the pressure slightly to stop on the appropriate dime. Release the pedal from a dead stop, and the calipers of our test car sometimes responded with an audible “clunk.” With this wrinkle, Mercedes still has a little ironing to do. —AR

Specifications

SPECIFICATIONS
2003 Mercedes-Benz SL500
VEHICLE TYPEFront-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 2-passenger, 2-door convertible
BASE PRICE (C/D EST)$87,000
ENGINE TYPESOHC 24-valve V-8, aluminum block and heads, port fuel injectionDisplacement: 303 in3, 4966 cm3 Power: 302 hp @ 5600 rpmTorque: 339 lb-ft @ 2700 rpm
TRANSMISSION5-speed automatic
CHASSISSuspension (F/R): multilink/multilinkBrakes (F/R): 13.0-in vented, cross-drilled disc/11.8-in vented discTires: Michelin Pilot Sport, F: 255/40ZR-18 95Y R: 285/40ZR-18 97Y
DIMENSIONSWheelbase: 100.8 in Length: 178.5 in Width: 71.5 in Height: 51.1 in Passenger volume: 46 ft3 Trunk volume, top down/up: 8/11 ft3 Curb weight: 4172 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 5.8 sec100 mph: 14.5 sec130 mph: 26.5 secRolling start, 5–60 mph: 6.1 secTop gear, 30–50 mph: 3.4 secTop gear, 50–70 mph: 4.0 sec1/4 mile: 14.3 sec @ 99 mphTop speed (governor limited): 155 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 155 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.88 g
C/D FUEL ECONOMYObserved: 22 mpg
EPA FUEL ECONOMYCombined/city/highway: 18/15/22 mpg

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