Reviews

If you repeat a word enough times, it starts to lose its meaning. The phenomenon is called semantic satiation and it has to do with our brains’ general intolerance for repetition. Car companies are decades into semantic satiation with the word “sport,” which is overused to the point of meaninglessness. Is a sport model something that’s genuinely athletic (Audi Sport Quattro), a smaller relative of something else (Ford Bronco Sport and Mitsubishi Outlander Sport), or a total enigma (Acura RLX Sport Hybrid)? In the case of the 2021 Honda Accord Sport 2.0T, the S word means that you get some added performance hardware without a lot of frills for a nice price. So, that puts it somewhere between a Chevrolet Equinox Sport and a Fiat 500 Sport, yet not at all like a Bugatti Grand Sport Vitesse. How’s that semantic satiation going?[editoriallinks id=’3e63bb6e-4b45-4d42-8956-789649f7bfb8′ align=’left’][/editoriallinks]This particular Accord cribs the Touring model’s 252-hp turbocharged 2.0-liter four-cylinder and 10-speed automatic transmission but does without the luxury equipment—no leather upholstery, no booming sound system, no heated rear seats or head-up display. Honda says the Sport 2.0T weighs 50 fewer pounds than the Touring, and our scales concur. This latest test car weighed in at a trim 3377 pounds, three pounds less than Honda’s official number. All that lightweighting paired with the zestiest powertrain results in a 60-mph sprint in 5.4 seconds and a quarter-mile pass in 14.0 seconds at 101 mph. [pullquote align=’center’]HIGHS: 60 mph in 5.4 seconds, upscale refinement, capacious interior, strong grip if you’re turning left.[/pullquote][image id=’b380d30f-ba6e-4519-8407-e29917bb9133′ mediaId=’b841a0db-7473-4779-97ea-28ddf0033f05′ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]And those are easy enough times to attain. Unlike, say, the Kia K5 GT, you’re not fighting wheelspin for the first 200 feet off the line in the Honda. The Accord occasionally issues a tortured moan from one of its front tires, but then it just hooks up and goes. Power builds progressively, with its 273-pound-feet torque peak arriving at 1500 rpm and staying flat to 4000 revs. If it feels like this engine is the foundation for the rip-roaring version in the Civic Type R, that’s because it is. Honda says it makes its rated power on regular gas, too. Honda’s 10-speed also is a fine piece, cracking off quick upshifts in its lower gears and letting the 2.0-liter snooze below 2000 rpm at cruising speeds. Pressing the Sport’s Sport button—sorry, but that’s what it’s called—tightens the leash, dropping the transmission down a couple gears and sharpening the engine’s throttle response. Sadly, model year 2020 was the last you could get a manual transmission in any Accord, and in retrospect it’s amazing there ever was one. [image id=’6b034439-ca85-4c92-bcc6-2805ee42a9e5′ mediaId=’643351be-1058-4524-99d6-70781c691c93′ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]The Accord Sport’s 19-inch 235/40R-19 Michelin Primacy MXM4 all-season tires are good for a decent 0.87 g of grip, but that figure doesn’t quite tell the whole story. Our skidpad numbers are a two-way average, and most cars do slightly better when turning left because the driver’s weight helps in that direction. But the Accord and its undefeatable stability control channeled the NASCAR spirit of Junior Johnson, allowing 0.91 g to the left compared to only 0.84 g to the right. Try not to spit tobacco juice on your boots as you drawl, “She’s got some stagger.” [pullquote align=’center’]LOWS: No more manual transmission, latest updates are almost undetectable, less-great grip turning right.[/pullquote]Despite the 2021 Accord’s refresh, which is mild to the point of unnoticeable, its front end also still channels the cop-car mien of a seven-eighths scale Dodge Charger, enough so that cars tend to slide out of its way as you approach them on the highway. There’s now a better-integrated radar unit in the lower grille for the adaptive cruise control plus a new color, Sonic Grey Pearl, that our test car was wearing, which is a slightly bluish take on the market’s suddenly ubiquitous flat gray. Inside, you’ll be more likely to appreciate the wireless charging pad and 8.0-inch touchscreen (with volume and tuning knobs) that supports Apple CarPlay and Android Auto. But mostly, Honda stayed pat on this one, including the price, which initially rose by $400 over the 2020 Sport 2.0T. Honda evidently reconsidered that number and tacked on another $240, for a base price of $33,105; settle for the 1.5T Sport model and the entry point drops to $28,425.[image id=’97a6b3e2-03d9-4e88-a136-9a7e4b5178bf’ mediaId=’3dc1cb24-77b9-4048-acf7-4a2f7eca6fd6′ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]That’s still a deal, we say, and one that avoids the sneaky crossover tax that seems to apply to any decent two-box vehicle these days. Sedans, even ones that look as good as this, just aren’t as trendy as crossovers, and manufacturers price them accordingly. This large, quick, well-equipped Accord Sport 2.0T costs $1720 less than a front-drive CR-V Touring with 62 fewer horsepower, a continuously variable automatic transmission, and nearly identical passenger volume. Yeah, that particular CR-V is of a fancier trim level, but how badly do you need leather and a subwoofer? The Accord even has a deceptively huge trunk that easily swallows a 54-quart cooler without any Tetris-like arranging. Unless you’re towing a trailer or really need all-wheel drive, the Accord seems like a glaringly obvious choice over a compact crossover.[image id=’d10f3f3d-a845-45d3-bbda-b94b4d864d41′ mediaId=’cea8e414-8e8d-49ef-bfe5-aac85ece107d’ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]Then again, we like cars and this one especially. The Accord is Honda’s everyday masterpiece, as reflected by its presence on our 10Best list for three and a half decades running. There’s no car above this in Honda’s lineup, and the company makes it as good as it can. It exudes a solidity that’s uncommon at this price level, feeling like the kind of car that will be functional and just as sweet to drive when its Carfax report is five owners deep as it is when new.And if the Accord is one of our favorite cars, the 2.0T Sport is our favorite Accord: quick, smooth, agile, and affordable. It’s got the buff engine and not a lot of mass. The Italians have a nice word for this, one that’s too specific to be stripped of meaning by decades of lazy marketing. Maybe it’s a bit of a stretch, but if we tell you to check out an Accord 2.0T Superleggera, you’ll know which one we mean. [vehicle type=’specpanel’ vehicle-body-style=” vehicle-make=” vehicle-model=” vehicle-model-category=” vehicle-submodel=” vehicle-year=”][/vehicle]

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As if the brand voted best in the world by Mossy Redwood Quarterly needed to print it on its cars, Wilderness is going to be a reoccurring name in new Subaru models. The 2022 Outback Wilderness is the first out the door. The Subaru Outback was already a popular choice for outdoorsy types who weren’t into hardcore rock-crawling, and the Wilderness package incorporates changes that Outback owners were already making to their cars to make them more off-road capable—such as lift kits and all-terrain tires—as well as details to make the tall wagon easier to live with back at the campground, including a washable rear seatback and a hatch-mounted cargo light. The result looks like a Subaru Outback that spent six months in the gym. It’s wider, tougher, and standing taller but still a comfortable, pliable ride with plenty of station-wagon utility.

Spicing up the Outback was an easy task because the basic recipe was already a winner. Who doesn’t like a chunky hatchback? Subaru just took what was already good about the Outback and added more of it. More cladding, more ride height, and more features specifically intended for outdoor activities. External changes might not be obvious to non-Subie fans, but current Outback owners will notice how the Wilderness tucks the corners of the front fascia for better cliffside clearance and extends the plastic cladding up the nose and above the wheel wells to lessen the likelihood of shrub-related scratching. Everything chrome on the standard Outback is satin black on the Wilderness, and important action points, such as tow-hook anchors and roof-rail tiedowns, are a bright anodized copper, giving the Wilderness a pirate’s saucy gold-tooth grin. “Avast, mateys, I’ve come to haul your canoe.” With a tow rating of 3500 pounds, the Wilderness could actually tow a good-sized boat, and the redesigned roof rack can haul up to 220 pounds in motion and support 700 pounds while standing still. Conveniently, that means it can not only carry bikes or kayaks but could also hold a rooftop tent—just don’t try to move an occupied rooftop tent.
We haven’t had a chance to sleep atop the Wilderness, but we did get it dirty. It can’t steamroller its way over obstacles like a Jeep Wrangler, but it climbed some steep, shaley hills with all-wheel-drive aplomb. The Outback’s off-road X-Mode has two options: a Snow/Dirt mode that minimizes wheelspin to climb slippery hills or slick driveways and a Deep Snow/Mud mode that allows more wheelspin to keep the car from getting bogged down. X-Mode also recognizes a downhill slope and automatically controls vehicle speed based on braking input, down to around 5 mph on a loose surface. Along with sending us up and down sandy hills, Subaru had arranged a cairn of intimidating boulders, which we clambered over to demonstrate the Wilderness’s goatlike agility and improved approach, breakover, and departure angles. Where the regular Outback would stuff its nose or drag its belly, the Wilderness cleared. To achieve the underside space, Subaru increased ground clearance to 9.5 inches, 0.8 inch more than the standard Outback. Taller springs also allow more compression travel, and the redesigned front and rear bumpers make a more forgiving hill climber. The end result is a 20.0-degree approach angle, a 21.2-degree breakover, and 23.6 degrees before you scrape the back bumper. It’s not going to take a King of the Hammers trophy home, but you’ll never meet a speed bump you need to brake for. If you don’t tend to measure the angles of local obstacles—or fail to notice them, even with the help of the front-mounted 180-degree camera—you can add some optional underbody armor to minimize the repercussions of miscalculations.
Under the hood, the Wilderness comes standard with the turbocharged 2.4-liter flat-four making 260 horsepower and 277 pound-feet of torque. It’s backed by a continuously variable automatic transmission (CVT), which does its best to pretend to be an eight-speed but can’t always maintain the illusion. On steep hills or leaving a stoplight, it does more of an impression of stepped-on chewing gum—streeeeeatch, and there we go, we’re moving now. The CVT does its job just not with any joy. There’s a similar dullness in the steering, and the tall sidewalls on the 225/65R-17 Yokohama Geolander A/T tires mean the on-pavement ride is on the squishy side. This last observation is not a complaint. Not everything needs to be a high-strung thoroughbred, and what you give up in high-speed cornering you can enjoy in cushioned ride comfort. Oh, by the way, if you pop one of those Geolanders on the trail or the highway, there’s a full-size spare on a matched alloy wheel, complete with tire-pressure monitor, under the cargo area in the back.
The interior of the Wilderness is attractive in a sensible way. The layout is ergonomically friendly, and the 11.6-inch touchscreen is mounted vertically, so it’s all within reach of the driver. Apple CarPlay and Android Auto come standard, as is Subaru’s full suite of driver’s aids. There are a few options available, including a sunroof and reverse automatic braking, but the Wilderness comes pretty loaded even in its unoptioned form. The seats are covered in non-leather, water-resistant material, and the patterning and colors repeat the honeycomb of the grille and the copper of the exterior accents. With wet dogs and muddy gear in mind, Subaru’s designers kept the headliner dark to hide scuffs, and the cargo area and that washable seatback is also waterproof. There’s lots of room in the back seat and behind it. The rear seats are comfortable, with a folding rear armrest, USB ports, and optional seat heaters, perfect for getting cozy after someone has the bright idea to camp in the freezing cold desert over New Year’s Eve. Not speaking from experience or anything. While the Subaru Outback Wilderness can’t keep you from making bad decisions about when and where to venture, it can get you there and back in comfort. With a starting price of $38,120, it’s one of the more expensive Outback models, but there’s also a subtle flex to off-roading in a unibody wagon rather than the more traditional 4×4. Over the years, the Subaru Outback has certainly startled many a knobby-tired SUV driver by appearing on a trail long past the closest paved road, and the 2022 Outback Wilderness makes it that much easier to pick your way past the pavement.

Specifications

Specifications
2022 Subaru Outback Wilderness
VEHICLE TYPE
front-engine, all-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door wagon
BASE PRICE
$38,120
ENGINE TYPE
turbocharged and intercooled DOHC 16-valve flat-4, aluminum block and heads, direct fuel injectionDisplacement
146 in3, 2387 cm3Power
260 hp @ 5600 rpmTorque
277 lb-ft @ 2000 rpm
TRANSMISSION
continuously variable automatic
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 108.1 inLength: 191.3 inWidth: 74.6 inHeight: 66.9 inPassenger volume: 103–107 ft3Cargo volume: 33 ft3Curb weight (C/D est): 3900 lb
PERFORMANCE (C/D EST)
60 mph: 6.3 sec1/4 mile: 14.8 secTop speed: 130 mph
EPA FUEL ECONOMY
Combined/city/highway: 24/22/26 mpg

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From the December 2000 Issue of Car and Driver.Someday, when—and if—Cadillac has successfully completed its renaissance, we may look back on this vehicle as the beginning of the comeback, the vehicle that marked the restoration of America’s one-time standard for the world to the first rank of prestigious transportation providers. Wow, huh?If this comes to pass—and the new Escalade looks like an impressive cornerstone for the rebuilding program—it will be a chapter exceptionally rich in ironies. For openers, there’s the delicious image of a long-established purveyor of luxury cars being towed back from the brink of obscurity by a truck. And the image is even more marvelous viewed against the backdrop of the first Escalade, a flabby, shameless badge job hastily rushed to market at the behest of unhappy SUV-less Cadillac dealers, who were dismayed at the astounding initial success of the Lincoln Navigator. The hurried launch followed a terse statement by General Motors president Jack Smith and then marketing czar Ron Zarrella to the effect that a sport-utility vehicle was not consistent with the image GM had mapped out for its prestige division. Therefore, there would not be a Cadillac sport-ute. No way. Ha.

HIGHS: Standout styling, major-league muscle, electronic sophistication, olfactory gratification.

The time that elapsed between those denials and the hastily cobbled 1999 Escalade, which rolled out in mid-1998, was roughly 18 months, an interval that Cadillac later cited as an example of GM’s improving ability to reduce development time. Sure.

Cadillac

The second-generation Escalade, however, is a whole nuther story, with some traits that look to be best in class and a total package that could come to be regarded as the best of the sybaritic bigs. We’ll need to round up the latest black-tie brute-utes for a show-and-tell comparison test, but here’s what we know so far. The new Escalade has more power than anything else in the large luxury class, and by a bunch. In four-wheel-drive trim, its GM 6.0-liter pushrod Vortec 6000 V-8 is rated at 345 hp and 380 pound-feet of torque. (We make the four-wheel-drive distinction because the new two-wheel-drive editions are propelled by GM’s 5.3-liter V-8, worth 285 hp and 325 pound-feet.)

Lincoln’s Navigator now trails in the output derby with 300 hp and 355 pound-feet from its 5.4-liter DOHC 32-valve V-8. That leaves the Navigator in third, because the new GMC Yukon Denali weighs in with 320 hp and 365 pound-feet of torque from a slightly lower-compression edition of the Escalade’s 6.0-liter (a ratio of 9.4:1 vs. 10.0:1). The other jumbo luxury SUVs—the Range Rover, the Toyota Land Cruiser, the Lexus LX470—don’t even register on the more-than-300-hp radar screen. Weighing in at 5662 pounds, the four-wheel-drive Escalade is among the portliest of these posh pachyderms—122 pounds heavier than the first-born Escalade—but as always, adding more power works wonders. The last Escalade we tested (“Javelinas Grandes,” May 1999) needed 10.2 seconds to wheeze to 60 mph, covered the quarter-mile in 17.6 seconds at 78 mph, and required 25.4 seconds to hit 90 mph. This new Escalade reached 60 mph from a standstill in 7.8, knocked 1.6 seconds off its predecessor’s quarter-mile time, and registered 90 mph on the speedo in 18.1 seconds. And all those acceleration numbers best the ones posted by the Navigator. Thanks to an all-new, all-disc brake system, this king-size Caddy stops from 70 mph in 207 feet, compared with 220 feet for the original and 222 for the Navigator. And it delivers all these dynamic improvements while making less noise and providing more comfort, augmented once again by the unique fragrance of Cadillac’s trademark Nuance perforated-leather upholstery. All automotive hides should smell as good as this.

LOWS: Awkward rear-seat access, abrupt transmission kickdown, standout styling.

There’s more to the dynamic story. Besides its firm foundations, the new Escalade, like the Chevy Tahoe, the GMC Yukon, and the Yukon Denali, rides on GM’s GMT800 truck chassis, and it gets the luxury division’s entire bag of electronic ride and stability-control tricks, including a new reverse warning system (“ultrasonic rear parking assist,” or URPA) and a variable damping system capable of adjusting the shocks up to 1000 times per second. The system provides a supple ride on all surfaces and makes this Escalade far easier to shepherd around corners than the original, particularly on smooth pavement. However, there’s still a fair amount of up-and-down motion, and we’re not entirely convinced that the electro-damping approach is better than the more traditional and slightly firmer suspension tuning on the new Denali. On the other hand, we’d be surprised if any owner subjected an Escalade to the kind of handling extremes imposed as a normal part of our test regimen.

Similarly, we don’t expect to see Escalade owners trundling around on desert rockscapes or in backwoods bogs. Neither does Cadillac. That’s why the Escalade’s four-wheel-drive system operates full time—there are no transfer-case shift levers, no low-range gear, no locking differentials, no buttons to push—and delivers 38 percent of the engine’s output to the front wheels, 62 percent to the rear. Presuming no one will be tackling any rough-and-tumble terrain, the combination of four-wheel drive, StabiliTrak, and 10.7 inches of ground clearance should be more than equal to the demands of most owners. One of those demands, of course, will be towing, and as you’d expect, the Escalade can handle some pretty hefty trailering: 8500 pounds (7700 for the two-wheel-drive version).

Inside, Cadillac has done a nice job of blending the new—sporty instrument graphics, automatic climate control, vastly improved secondary switchgear—with the familiar: Zebrano wood trim, that fragrant leather, a superb Bose Acoustimass sound system, and a squarish look to the dashboard that’s a little out of step with contemporary organic designs, but it does make a nice visual bridge to the past. That bridge may be important, because the outside of the Escalade, particularly its grille, is anything but familiar — unless you’ve been tracking Cadillac’s Evoq sports car. If so, then this radical front end will be a useful bridge to where the division’s styling appears to be headed.

Whatever your reaction to this look—we’re about equally divided—you have to admit it doesn’t leave you sitting on the fence, and in automotive styling, that’s half the battle. The other half is avoiding something that eliminates the fence sitters but puts everyone on the wrong side of the wall. Can you say Pontiac Aztek?

VERDICT: Cadillac backs a daring design with the right stuff.

Something else that’s certain: Whatever the stylists achieve, in this class more power is gonna make it look more better. Viewed from that perspective, we think the Escalade looks pretty damn good. CounterpointIt’s a hunk. Now, if you’re a guy, that’s a compliment. But if you’re one of those gas-hogging, planet-depleting SUVs, well, it’s not so cool. Ten-and-a-half-year-old dog Wolfie had a heck of a time jumping into the Escalade. The middle-row entry space is surprisingly narrow between the seat cushion and the door frame, so he had to hop into the front seat and walk over the console into the back. Thankfully, though, roadholding on my daily home-run sweeper seemed really stable for such a beast. It’s a Cadillac, and thus luxuriously appointed. But the computer told me the previous driver had gotten 8.5 mpg. Ouch! Let your conscience be your guide, I guess. —Patti MakiReady or not, here it comes — Cadillac’s edgy new techno-look. Does it work? Yes. This new giant no longer looks like anything else on planet earth. Nor does it drive like anything else, really. It offers power, performance and even—gulp—handling that outpaces its own GMC Denali siblings and (more important) fairly whoops up on the Lincoln Navigator. Is it a great vehicle? Nope. It’s gigantic and expensive, yet its huge console and dash are slathered in cheesy fake zebra wood (the real thing graces the steering wheel and door trim), and the third-row seating is both hard to access and uncomfortable to sit in. Make mine a Toyota Land Cruiser or loaded Sequoia. —Frank MarkusWhile the rest of the Cadillac models are chasing the Germans, the Escalade is decidedly “old school”—as in it proudly flaunts its Cadillac heritage. Unfortunately for Cadillac, my 30-year-old brain thinks Cadillac’s heritage is floaty rides, finger-light steering with less feel than a good arcade game, and mushy brakes. All these traits are well-represented in the Escalade, which makes me think the Escalade is meant to keep some of Caddy’s core (read, aging) customers happy. Although I liked the quiet interior and the way the thick-chested engine moved the car with ease, I hated the way it pitched and bobbed when changing direction. —Larry Webster

Specifications

SPECIFICATIONS
2002 Cadillac Escalade
VEHICLE TYPEfront-engine, 4-wheel-drive, 8-passenger, 5-door wagon
PRICE AS TESTED (C/D EST)$49,000
ENGINE TYPEPushrod 16-valve V-8, iron block and aluminum head, port fuel injectionDisplacement: 364 in3, 5967 cm3Power: 345 hp @ 5200 rpmTorque: 380 lb-ft @ 4000 rpm
TRANSMISSION4-speed automatic
CHASSISSuspension (F/R): unequal-length control arms, electronically controlled shocks absorbers, coil springs, anti-roll bar/rigid axle, 4 trailing links and a Panhard rod, electronically controlled, automatically leveling shock absorbers, coil springs, anti-roll barBrakes (F/R): 12.0-in vented disc/13.0-in vented discTires: Goodyear Wrangler HP, 265/70SR-17
DIMENSIONSWheelbase: 116.0 in Length: 198.9 in Width: 78.9 in Height: 74.2 in Passenger volume: 85 ft3 Cargo volume, seats in/out: 16/108 ft3 Curb weight: 5662 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 7.8 sec90 mph: 18.1 secTop gear, 30–50 mph: 3.6 secTop gear, 50–70 mph: 4.8 sec1/4 mile: 16.0 sec @ 86 mphTop speed (governor limited): 108 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 207 ft
C/D FUEL ECONOMYObserved: 14 mpg
EPA FUEL ECONOMYCombined/city/highway: 12/16 mpg

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UPDATE 5/14/21: This review has been updated with revised test results from the M550i’s second visit to the test track.When we last checked in with the BMW M550i we were a bit puzzled by its slower-than-anticipated acceleration numbers. BMW claims a zero-to-60-mph time of 3.6 seconds yet our test car needed 4.1 seconds to hit that mark. Heavier BMWs with identical 523-hp twin-turbo 4.4-liter V-8s, such as the X5 M50i, have bolted to 60 in 3.9 seconds, and our 5742-pound long-term BMW X7 M50i raced to 60 mph in 4.1 seconds. So, we called BMW’s press office and asked to retest the M550i. There are plenty of things that can go wrong during testing. Possibly the V-8 or transmission had an issue or maybe the tank was filled with a bad batch of fuel. Whatever the reason, we got a different but identically spec’d M550i back for a retest.The results of round two were quicker, but still slower than what BMW claims. Test two resulted in a 3.9-second time to 60 mph and a 12.1-second quarter at 120 mph. Those figures are 0.2-second quicker than before. The unchanged quarter-mile trap speed, a reliable indicator of a vehicle’s power-to-weight ratio, indicates the engine in round two was making the same amount of power as in round one.[image id=’706e3caa-5a3a-403f-b5c5-2965eb4cbeac’ mediaId=’77c1d796-e77b-4415-8ff7-6daa69e77906′ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image][pullquote align=’center’]HIGHS: Strong and subdued V-8, all of the trappings of a luxury car, relaxing into it.[/pullquote]Even if this M550i is not as quick as expected, its V-8 remains special. BMW seems to get that and offers the V-8-hungry customer an entire menu section. There are 600- to 617-hp twin-turbo V-8s in M division vehicles (M5, M8, X5M, X6M), and the brand also sells the M550i’s engine in the M850i, X5 M50i, X6 M50i, X7 M50i.Set a mere rung below the M5, the M550i wears a body kit that makes it look nearly as aggressive as the M5, but crammed into the 5-series’s engine bay is the detuned version of the BMW’s 4.4-liter V-8. An eight-speed automatic is the only transmission, and it works brilliantly, delivering crisp shifts that largely go unnoticed and responding quickly to accelerator inputs. The engine has big lazy power and 553 pound-feet of torque to push you into the 20-way leather seats.[image id=’bf7191fd-d8a5-4599-84fa-70789fff32ed’ mediaId=’acb7afab-18b2-4fc1-a455-89334d345359′ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image][editoriallinks id=’dc58af1d-eb1d-4792-89a0-435fec59d8a1′ align=’left’][/editoriallinks]Under keep-the-gas-pedal-pinned acceleration, the M550i is considerably slower than an M5; we clocked the Competition model at 2.6 seconds to 60 and 10.7 seconds through the quarter-mile. But the M550i also is slightly quieter than an M5. The M550i’s version of the engine redlines at 6500 rpm to the M5’s 7200 rpm, so at full whack the M5 is a touch louder—81 dBa versus 79 dBa. There’s a major difference when idling; an M5 registers 50 dBa to the M550i’s 40-dBa whisper. The quieter demeanor matches the deluxe interior accommodations. When dressed with a full-leather dashboard ($700) and Cognac Dakota leather seats with the $3400 Bowers & Wilkins audio system playing Mozart’s “The Marriage of Figaro,” the M550i xDrive does a convincing Rolls-Royce impression.[pullquote align=’center’]LOWS: Handling quirks, numb steering, not as quick as expected.[/pullquote]On the outside, there’s no mistaking the M550i for a Roller. In Aventurin Red Metallic ($1950) and fitted with the M Performance appearance package you’re basically looking at an M5 stunt double. Our test car came with optional 20-inch wheels with non-run-flat Bridgestone Potenza S007 summer tires. Those short little sidewalls don’t look like they offer any cushioning, but fitted with the optional Adaptive M Suspension Pro you get a supple ride that avoids the crash of more overt performance models and the active anti-roll system keeps the 4480-pound sedan cornering as flat as a flapjack. On the skidpad, the Bridgestones held on with 0.95 g’s of grip and stops from 70 mph took an easy and short 149 feet.[image id=’69c3b02c-0ac1-47ac-afb9-b6f2aa31146e’ mediaId=’3f21b309-8c84-41a4-ac6a-dce96e4c4dba’ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’6×4′][/image]Actually using the chassis’s potential in the canyons above Los Angeles left us a bit exhausted. Four-wheel steering is standard, as is Integral Active steering, and on top of that our test car came fitted with the $3600 Dynamic Handling Package that bundles the adaptive dampers and active anti-roll bars. BMW no longer fits a gearbox into the steering system to change ratios. Such as many other automakers, the ratio change—faster or slower—is done by altering the spacing of the teeth on the rack. BMW tunes the rear steer to increase agility or stability depending on the situation, but from behind the wheel the M550i’s rear wheels seem to get into the act to disrupt your intended line through the corner. Dancing has a leader and a follower—the driver should lead, and the car should follow. The M550i keeps challenging the driver’s prompts with unwanted yips and moves.Path accuracy describes how well a car turns in and holds on to driver’s intended path. We’re guessing that the rear steer is tuned to give a lively feel, but when loaded up into a corner it revectors the car and you find yourself making adjustments to the numb steering to stay on the desired line. That bit of second-guessing that the chassis seems to do and the work you find yourself doing to counteract it is annoying and keeps you from trusting the car enough to push it hard in corners.[image id=’b1647252-ad59-4731-8422-a370509c48d6′ mediaId=’6231ca65-4b46-4aa6-bd14-46f29870ea9a’ align=’center’ size=’medium’ share=’false’ caption=” expand=” crop=’original’][/image]BMW doesn’t fit the M5 with rear steer and it doesn’t suffer from that sort of nervous second-guessing. We’ve previously experienced this handling quirk in a rear-steer equipped 540i and it remains here in the M550i, so we’re guessing it’s in how the system is tuned.An M5 costs $25,000 more than the M550i’s $77,795 base price, and that gap is why the 523-hp sedan exists. Loaded up, our tester came in at $93,735, but even if you try to go a la carte with the extras, all M550i models come with rear-steer and the chef doesn’t offer substitutions. If you’re thinking sports sedan, the M550i’s handling might be a turn-off, but if you want to relax in leather-lined comfort while occasionally dusting off a Porsche driver at a stoplight drag race, you’ll find the M550i pretty tasty.[vehicle type=’specpanel’ vehicle-body-style=” vehicle-make=” vehicle-model=” vehicle-model-category=” vehicle-submodel=” vehicle-year=”][/vehicle]

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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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