Reviews

From the February 1993 Issue of Car and Driver.
Never mind that the term “pony car” has been around for 29 years—probably inspired by the secretary’s Mustang featured in advertising back then. The expression is icky enough to clog the printer, not to mention the editorial arteries, so we intend to avoid it.

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Besides, the three cars assembled on these pages—the Camaro Z28, the Firebird Formula, and the Mustang Cobra—have nothing in common with the secretary’s anything. These are full-house performers, optioned for that one-in-ten buyer who wants all the go and grip the catalog offers. Ford will build only 5000 Mustang Cobras. GM reckons only ten-to-twelve percent of buyers will opt for the package that includes the extremely high performance Z-rated 50-series tires, performance gearing (3.23 instead of 2.73), and 150-mph speedometer. If, after hearing of this non-pony intent, you still can’t shake the equine metaphor, then think of this group as the war horses.
These war horses remind us of what the class stood for in its first decade of life, beginning with the Mustang’s 1964 intro. The secretaries’ rides, with their skinny tires and in-line-six engines, were everywhere, and Chevrolet followed as soon as it could with a similarly cute and thrifty Camaro. We looked right past them in traffic, searching for the relatively few that were packing the go-fast options. It was these few that inspired SCCA’s Trans-Am series—in its early days, some of the best door-slammer racing that ever was.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

These few powerful versions repre­sented a new reach for Detroit, a thrust in the direction of sports-car speed. The mus­cle-car intermediates were faster in a straight line. The war horses were meant to be Euro fast, fast when the lines weren’t straight, fast on roads where a demanding, discerning driver could enjoy a well-balanced machine.
Model-year 1993 does, in fact, finish out the third decade of this American class of sporting cars—29 years of Mustangs and Mustang emulators (bow heads here in a moment of silence for the Barracuda, Challenger, and Javelin comrades that fell along the way and for the Cougar that grew up to be too bulky and mature to entertain war-like thoughts). America 29 years after Mustang Job No. 1 is a very different place, with a much richer selection of sporting cars. Now, in addition to the American interpretations of Euro fast, we have interpretations from afar—Corrados, Eclipses, Preludes, Probes, and others that weren’t even dreamed of back then. So our expectations now are based on a true international standard.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

More international than domestic, in fact, because Detroit’s efforts in recent years have been pretty much simmering along on pilot light—no new cars and no new tricks. But the burner is on high again for 1993. The Camaro and Firebird are all-new and as provocative as sheetmetal Madonnas. Over in Dearborn, Ford has enlisted its most enthusiastic car guys (and at least one car gal) into the Special Vehicle Team. Their job: inject enough hormones into the Mustang so that Ford dares to call it Cobra.
What’s become of the fast American after all this time? We can hardly wait to find out.
Comparison-test stations, everyone!

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

Third Place: Ford Mustang Cobra
Ford promised that the Cobra wouldn’t be a rocky-riding, ill-tempered hot rod that only a go-fast addict could love. And Ford lived up to its word. This car is quick but relaxed, an unusually gentle war horse.
The Mustang body is old, first intro­duced in 1979, yet the Cobra seems less of another time than of another place. You sit upright inside, surrounded by black cloth and vinyl, looking out through a windshield that’s relatively vertical. The mood is BMW.

HIGHS: Charming chunkiness, V-8 swagger, user-friendliness.

Except that there is one inescapable and thoroughly wonderful detail—the sound of a good old American V-8 work­ing happily under the hood. The V-8 is really the signature of this class of sporting car, the burble of the exhaust, the smooth­ness of the frequent power pulses, the right-now torque of big displacement. And the Cobra’s engine is as sweet as they come. This is a special powerplant just for this car, retaining the bore and stroke of the usual Mustang 4.9-liter V-8 but upgraded with larger ports and valves, new roller rocker arms, and better-flowing intake manifolding, injectors, and tubing headers. Output is up by 30 horsepower with no noticeable loss of flexibility. It’s as happy pottering around town as any Mustang in memory.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

And its good-natured demeanor remains at full power, too. It pulls to its 5800-rpm redline playing musical sounds all the way. Acceleration, particularly in top gear, is a bit behind the others, as you might expect from its smaller displace­ment. But with quarter-mile performance of 14.3 seconds at 98 mph, this is a strong horse.
Ford told us early that the Cobra sus­pension would be calibrated for road driv­ing rather than skidpad numbers, an unusual emphasis given Detroit’s wide-tire-and-stiff-shock approach to handling. And, in fact, the changes from the Mustang GT are generally in the softening direction. Rear springs are substantially softer, as is the front anti-roll bar, and the shocks have reduced resis­tance to very high-speed suspension motions. The idea is to let the suspension move more freely and provide more gradual changes in tire loading.

LOWS: Wind noise, shiny plastic interior, loose suspension at speed.

Don’t disturb the tires when they’re working, in other words. And these are extremely capable tires: 245/45 Z-rated Goodyear Eagles mounted on 7.5-by-17-inch alloy wheels.
If you parachuted into the cockpit and therefore had no idea of the tires, you probably wouldn’t guess the Cobra was a high-performance car from the way it normally behaves. The ride is loose, floaty, and rather disconnected in its feeling on undulating blacktop. Yet the grip is there, 0.85 g on the skidpad.
For all-out, roadcourse performance, this car falls behind the other two, although it easily outruns the Probe GT class of front-drive coupes (December 1992). At its limits, though, it takes more driver skill than all of the others. This is an old and relatively unsophisticated chassis, and it needs very smooth, confident con­trol inputs as you approach the limits.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

Otherwise, you get untidy transitions from strong understeer to tail out that make the car wider than one lane. And you’re left on your own for late braking into turns because there is no ABS to cover for you if you lock a wheel. The suspension’s soft­ness may be off-putting for the unconfi­dent driver too, because this car never gives the hard, quick, direct response of the usual performance car.

The Verdict: A fast car that’s not uptight about it.

That’s a plus, or a minus, depending upon your expectations. This is one of America’s quickest production cars at the moment, with a fine engine and most of the equipment you’d expect of such a car, including full instruments on the panel and enough lateral support in the seat to be slightly better than the GM cars for hard driving. But it goes about daily driving in a relaxed, accommodating way that’s defi­nitely out of character for a war horse. If pushing the limits is less important to you than everyday manners, you might rate the Mustang Cobra well above our third-place positioning.
1993 Ford Mustang Cobra235-hp V-8, 5-speed automatic, 3248 lbBase/as-tested price: $19,990/$20,529 (est.)C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 5.6 sec1/4 mile: 14.3 @ 98 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 181 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.85 gC/D observed fuel economy: 20 mpg

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

Second Place: Pontiac Firebird Formula
What you see is what you get with Pontiac’s version of this GM F-body, and what you can’t see is mostly identical to the Camaro. For powertrain, exhaust sound, and chassis tuning, they are tuned identically.
Yet the Firebird was unanimously behind in our balloting, in part because its styling produces real, functional differences—for example, the Firebird dash-top padding rolls off more toward the driver than the Camaro’s, and in the process makes greater reflections on the wind­shield.

HIGHS: Voluptuous body, V-8 libido, solid construction.

There were differences of driving feel too, caused, we think—or more accurately, allowed—by production tolerances. The Firebird came out on the less desirable side of tolerances in several instances. For example, steering feel on very fast sweepers. Imagine a bend in a two-lane road that can be taken at 90 mph with very low lat­eral forces. Skidpad numbers and understeer-oversteer balance are unimportant here, far outweighed by the sort of steering accuracy that enables you to keep confi­dently within your lane. For jobs like this where the small cornering forces caused little buildup of steering effort, the Firebird tended to make unwelcome lateral shifts on its own with no change in steering-wheel position. At speed on narrow rural roads, it felt to be a very “wide” car.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

All three of the war horses have tires of aggressively low profile. They’re excellent for very high-performance handling—on the skidpad and on the racetrack—but they’re a mixed benefit on the road. They ride hard, although suspension engineers are learning to tune out harshness: the Camaro and the Firebird have taut control of body motions, yet manage to soften the bumps’ sharp edges to an amazing degree. These tires also tend to self-steer over grooves and troughs in the road so minor that you can’t even see them. And they respond incredibly quickly to steering inputs, with the effect that the transition from straight path to curve often seems too quick—a problem exaggerated by the fast-ratio steering standard on Camaros and Firebirds with V-8 engines. This tire quickness remains, even as lateral force builds toward the adhesion limits. Higher-profile tires lose their quickness much more obviously, thereby signaling their limits. Approaching the limits with the tires in this test requires more driver exper­tise to avoid surprises.

LOWS: Interstate exhaust drone, weak lateral support in seats, reflections on windshield.

All of this should be taken as a com­mentary on the nature of high-performance cars today rather than a criticism of these cars. To get the big performance numbers these war horses deliver, low-profile tires are absolutely necessary. The behavioral quirks that come along with the perfor­mance capability are simply part of the personality.
Do you want the numbers enough to put up with the car? Every potential war­horse buyer should ask himself that ques­tion. Because the Camaro Z28 and Firebird Formula optioned with the 50-series tires as tested here really aren’t just sexy shapes with rumpity-rump exhausts. These are high-performance specialists.
To some degree, these are young men’s cars, too. Young men need strong flavors and loud noises to know they’re having a good time. Take exhaust sound, for exam­ple. Both the Camaro and the Firebird make a V-8 rumble that becomes intense on the Interstate. We don’t know exactly at what age this becomes a damn nuisance, but our guess is that anyone beyond his mid-thirties will wish for something else after just a few mile markers.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

And yet much of this car can be appreciated by drivers of any age. The six-speed shifts beautifully, and the LT1 V-8, borrowed from the Corvette but burdened with a more restrictive exhaust, is a thrill producer. Track performance is excellent—0 to 60 mph in 5.5 seconds, top speed of 152 mph, and 0.89 g on the skidpad.
Because of an engine oiling problem, we did not run the Firebird much on the roadcourse, but the machinery is the same as that of the Camaro, so its perfor­mance should be the same within close tolerances.

The Verdict: A sexy American given to even sexier poses.

The seats definitely aren’t up to the car’s track performance. Lateral support is inadequate for the car’s handling, and we thought the lumbar support—not adjustable—was too prominent. This par­ticular car carried few options, hence its low estimated as-tested price of $18,600. The Formula’s standard driver’s-seat track has an additional adjustment (beyond the usual fore-and-aft and backrest angle) that allows the cushion to be raised in front for more thigh support. This is a thoughtful addition, but it still leaves the driving posi­tion lower than some drivers will prefer.
With its lean equipment list, though, this Formula shows how much perfor­mance you can get today for the buck.
1993 Pontiac Firebird Formula275-hp V-8, 6-speed automatic, 3434 lbBase/as-tested price: $18,000/$18,600 (est.)C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 5.5 sec1/4 mile: 14.2 @ 99 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 172 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.89 gC/D observed fuel economy: 20 mpg

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

First Place: Chevrolet Camaro Z28
This car demonstrates how good the new F-body can be when everything is right. We found the sealing of the side windows excellent at speed. Control efforts were agreeable. The body structure is amazingly solid compared with the pre­vious generation, an improvement that gives a quality feel by elimi­nating creaks and squeaks. And any 3452-pound car that clears the quarter-mile in 14.0 seconds at 100 mph and circles the skidpad at 0.92 g is a tremendous performer.

HIGHS: Tastefully rakish shape, V-8 beat and V-8 go, low wind noise.

We like the Camaro’s look better than the Firebird’s, too. The rear spoiler has been deftly inte­grated into the rear quarters. The instrument panel also presents itself in a particularly agreeable way, although the high-level vents over the cluster are assertively goofy and the bright yellow switch-and-gauge markings, instead of the traditional white, suggest a styling depart­ment trying too hard to be different.
Some of the Camaro’s appeal is right down at the basic bad-boy level, too. Around town, the exhaust sound is a per­fect replay of our high-school ideal, snarling at full power, popping and snap­ping on the overrun. The grin it brings is involuntary, and it is wide. We’ve grown up enough to judge it too loud on the Interstate though—way too loud.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

This car seemed a bit more comfortable than the Firebird. It has a leather-wrapped wheel, nicer to the touch than the Formula’s plastic rim, and the seat has a less intrusive lumbar support. But much of the difference has to do with the optional four-way power seat that allowed each of us to tailor his own driving position.

LOWS: Interstate exhaust drone, gotta-be-different yellow instrument markings.

Criticism of the driving environment was similarly subjective—the horizontal seam around the ball-shaped, leather-wrapped shift knob was deemed too prominent, for example. And there is another nagging concern that applies to the Firebird as well. The streamlined exte­rior shape is achieved in part by including steeply sloping glass front and rear. The slope contributes to an exciting cockpit feel, but there’s a price—you must look at the world through reflections on the glass. The slope multiplies the vision loss due to the normal accumulation of bugs and road scum, too. The Camaro’s dash-top shape, and its nearly black interior, minimized the reflections in our test car. But as dust accumulates on the dash and as pits, abra­sions, and clouds accumulate on the glass with age, these cars will lose some of the driving fun. We notice, too, the appear­ance of aerodynamic slipperiness is not backed up by the wind tunnel—the Camaro’s drag coefficient is 0.34.

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

The performance numbers produced by this car are outstanding, and its roadcourse behavior when approaching the limits is quite good by today’s standards, with pre­dictable transitions from understeer to tail out. The standard-equipment ABS gives good stability under braking, too.

The Verdict: A sexy American.

Just as a .44 Magnum is harder to han­dle than a .22, so is this class of car much more demanding of driver skill than the Probe GT class of front-drivers. In moving up the g-force scale from one to the other, it’s easy to see why we call these the war horses—getting the most out of them is serious business. Serious fun, too.
1993 Chevrolet Camaro Z28275-hp V-8, 6-speed automatic, 3452 lbBase/as-tested price: $18,000/$21,000 (est.)C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 5.3 sec1/4 mile: 14.0 @ 100 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 165 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.92 gC/D observed fuel economy: 20 mpg
Chronicles of Immoderation
This magazine has always embraced immoderation because that’s what car enthusiasm—any kind of enthusiasm, for that matter—is all about. And over the years, this pony-car class has been a smorgasbord of immoderate machines.
Turn back to the “Z/28 Camaro vs. `Tunnel Port’ Mustang” comparison test in July 1968. SCCA’s Trans-Am series was terrific racing then, a fac­tory-car showdown with Mustang and Camaro as the top guns. For equipment to be legal on the track, the rules said, it had to be sold for the street. Of course the best stuff never was. But the facto­ries could hardly admit—certainly not to a national magazine—they were rac­ing cheaters. So the editor got copies of the SCCA homologation papers and ordered one each thundering Mustang and Camaro just like the factories said anybody could buy. And on the intended week, they came!
The 302 Mustang had intake ports so big they were tunneled around the pushrods, hence the term “tunnel port.” Plus the first set of 60-series tires I’d ever seen-70-series was then the state of the art. The Camaro had a two-four-barrel crossram intake manifold that every Chevy street racer would have risked a felony indictment for.
The performance of this pair ruined us for showroom cars for about two years after. The 3480-pound Camaro ran the quarter in 13.8 seconds at 107 mph, compared with 14.0 at 106 mph for the Mustang. Horsepower in those days was way ahead of the tires, as you can see from the weak ETs.
As primitive as the tires were, they were way ahead of knowledge about handling. Fords in general, and Mustangs in particular, were notorious for understeer, which surprises me even now because Ford’s Dearborn handling track has a series of constant-radius corners that ruthlessly expose an under-steering car. I remember a 1969-model 428 Cobra Jet Mustang that pushed its front tires so hard I could see a plume of smoke stream up past the passenger-side window from the right-front tire. It was common in those days to scuff the front tires clear down the sidewall to midpoint on the letters and barely knock the corners off the rear tread.
The first pony car, actually the first Detroiter in my memory, that didn’t understeer ferociously (the Corvair aside, of course) was the midyear 1970 Firebird Trans Am. It had a beefy rear anti-roll bar (amazing technology in those days) and a torquey, 400-cube engine. The tail could be flicked out with a tickle of the gas or a flick of its black, fat-rimmed Formula 1 style steering wheel. All other Detroiters then had skinny, shiny plastic rims. The Trans Am’s rim was self-skinned plas­tic foam, not leather, but it wasn’t slip­pery. And it looked right for a serious performance car.
In recent years, Pontiac has made a point of telling people it builds excitement. With that Trans Am, no words were necessary.
In those days, every performance-oriented Pontiac we tested came through Jim Wangers at Pontiac’s ad agency, and they all had tweaked engines. Our first test Trans Am ran 14.1 seconds and 103 mph in the quar­ter. It was really fun for me—never mind that no reader ever got one that good—and I had given up on ever driving the pulse-revving equal of it.
That was before this issue. I promise you, the new F-body is world-class immoderate. —PB
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Michael SimariCar and Driver

Up until this May, the Lexus flagship was a literal ship. The Lexus LY650 yacht measured more than 65 feet long, made up to 2700 horsepower, and cost nearly $4 million—until economic uncertainty torpedoed the project.
The $102,025 LC500 convertible is no yacht, but its fabric top folds in 15 seconds at speeds up to 31 mph, and that’s kind of the same thing. The sun on your face and the wind in your hair feel just as fresh whether you’re a billionaire sunbathing in the French Riviera or a mere millionaire headed to the lake house for the weekend.

2019 Lexus LC500 Coupe Gets Even Squishier

The Big Show: 2018 Lexus LC500 Tested

Although it weighs a resolute 4500 pounds, we wouldn’t call the LC500 a barge. It’s more like a classic Chris-Craft for the road with a tight two-plus-two cockpit that looks out over a long and graceful bow. Pin the right pedal, and the LC500 moves like a boat rising on plane. The naturally aspirated 471-hp V-8 exhibits a brief lull as the tach winds up; it feels like a feature that adds to the theatrics rather than a flaw. The 5.0-liter emits a hearty growl down low that builds into a full-throated blare above 6000 rpm, sounding every bit as suggestive as a Jaguar F-type but without the tawdry pops and crackles.

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Michael SimariCar and Driver

Figure on a zero-to-60-mph run in the mid-four-second range and cornering grip closer to 0.90 g than 1.00 g. That’s just quick enough and sticky enough for a car that’s best enjoyed at a brisk pace, not an aggressive one. This is the kind of car you can drive while wearing Crocs and not feel like you should be taking it more seriously. It is easy to place through a fast sweeper and demonstrates admirable body control on rough pavement. Unlike the $93,975 coupe version, there’s some quiver and quake in the softtop LC500’s steering wheel that’s borne from structural flex rather than road feel, but this Lexus otherwise feels solid. The ride perfectly straddles the line between firm and soft, with only the largest heaves and cracks in the road causing the LC to hammer on its optional $2650 forged 21-inch wheels (20s are standard).
There are better choices in this arena for driving fast. The Porsche 911 and the F-type top the list. The LC500 lands right in the sweet spot where you expect a two-door Lexus to be. There’s a clear connection to the brand’s cushy sedans and SUVs in the supple leather, the immaculate detailing, and the sheer size of the thing. Yet the LC500 is also a celebration of soulful, naturally aspirated engines and the joy of open-air driving. It stirs emotions in ways that BMW’s number-generating machines don’t, and that’s exactly how it should be.

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Michael SimariCar and Driver

The only thing watering down the experience is Lexus’s unfathomable infotainment system. It uses a trackpad, which is a bad starting place, and gets worse by burying several key functions deep in the menu structure, such as the heated seat controls. On several screens within the 10.3-inch display, you navigate between virtual controls with left and right swipes while up and down flicks toggle whatever setting you happen to be hovering over. You might think you’ve felt rage before, but have you ever accidentally turned on the ventilated passenger’s seat while trying to turn on the heated driver’s seat—for the third time in two days?
If you can make it past this small detail that’s a major nuisance, the LC500 convertible is a refreshing alternative to six-figure cars that are wrapped up in performance numbers. The LC places the emphasis on the experience: the sound of eight cylinders uncorked, the feel and smell of lush leather, and the sight of that sculpted body that looks as if it were cast in a single mold. We’d like more of this, please, throughout the Lexus lineup and the greater industry.

Specifications

Specifications
2021 Lexus LC500 Convertible
VEHICLE TYPE front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 2+2-passenger, 2-door convertible
BASE PRICE $102,025
ENGINE TYPE DOHC 32-valve V-8, aluminum block and heads, port and direct fuel injectionDisplacement 303 in3, 4969 cm3Power 471 hp @ 7100 rpmTorque 398 lb-ft @ 4800 rpm
TRANSMISSION 10-speed manual automatic
DIMENSIONS Wheelbase: 113.0 inLength: 187.4 inWidth: 75.6 inHeight: 53.2 inPassenger volume: 75 ft3Cargo volume: 3 ft3Curb weight (C/D est): 4500 lb
PERFORMANCE (C/D EST) 60 mph: 4.7 sec100 mph: 10.6 sec1/4 mile: 13.1 secTop speed: 168 mph
EPA FUEL ECONOMY (C/D EST) Combined/city/highway: 18/15/25 mpg

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It’s a year of big debuts for the German auto industry, including a rare overhaul for the Mercedes-Benz S-class. While that Benz will undoubtedly go all-out on luxury, the refreshed Porsche Panamera sharpens its focus on performance. Sure, there are some comfort and convenience upgrades, but who cares about Apple CarPlay when there’s a 630-hp Turbo S? And that’s not even the most powerful Panamera in the quiver.
We had the chance to explore the revised Panamera’s talents when we joined Thomas Friemuth, vice president for the Panamera product line, and a couple of his top engineers for a late round of testing in the Black Forest mountains southwest of Stuttgart.

Tested: 2018 Porsche Panamera Turbo S E-Hybrid

Tested: Porsche Panamera GTS Is All About the V-8

We couldn’t see the 2021 model’s visual changes, which were hidden under mild camouflage, but we know they’ll be modest. There’s a distinct lower front end for the Turbo S, and the rear end receives slight updates. The taillights now run uninterrupted across the width of the Panamera’s posterior, and the Porsche lettering is three-dimensional. All models receive the Sport Design package, previously an option, which essentially brings more aggressive lower body cladding. Three new wheel designs and two new exterior colors complete the revisions to the Panamera’s exterior.

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Porsche

Inside, the changes are equally subtle. The new steering wheel emphasizes the family resemblance with the 911, and there are some fresh choices in the realm of wood decor. The shift paddles feel solid and expensive, though we’re glad that—unlike on the 911—it’s still possible to manually select gears with a console-mounted shifter that works intuitively: Pull backwards to upshift, push forward to downshift. It took Porsche a long time to reverse that pattern, so we feel obliged to commend them for tacitly admitting that they were once wrong about something.
On the technology front, Porsche upgraded its infotainment system to include new connectivity functions such as Apple CarPlay. Voice recognition is improved, the system is faster, and the central screen features a higher resolution. We still have a few gripes. We’d like a more flexible display in front of the driver, perhaps one inspired by the Taycan, and it wouldn’t hurt if the Sport Chrono clock would kindly disappear at the touch of a button—or at least just not look like such a highbrow afterthought.

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Porsche

The changes to the Panamera’s powertrain are more significant than the cosmetic and interior tweaks. The entry-level 3.0-liter V-6 makes way for a 2.9-liter V-6, rated at the same 330 horsepower. It is closely related to the engine in the Panamera 4S, which retains the same displacement but could receive a power boost to 450 horsepower. Above that, there’s the Panamera GTS with a detuned version of the Panamera Turbo’s 4.0-liter V-8. The GTS receives a power boost from 453 to 473 horsepower.
Meanwhile, the Panamera Turbo, previously rated at 550 horsepower, disappears to make way for the enthusiast’s ultimate Panamera: the Turbo S, which packs a lofty 620 horsepower. This move required a number of changes to the engine’s inner workings. The pistons and crankshaft are upgraded to withstand the boost from larger turbochargers, and new injectors deliver more fuel. Even the spark plugs are unique. It’s a considerable investment that delivers significantly improved performance.
And then there’s the expanded hybrid lineup, which includes a new mid-level version, the Panamera 4S E-Hybrid. That car slots between the entry-level Panamera 4 Hybrid and the Panamera Turbo S E-Hybrid. All of them receive a 17.9-kWh battery in place of the old 14.1-kWh pack, leading to about 30 percent more fully electric range (which should in turn bump the EPA-rated electric range to 18 miles). The two lesser models are based on the 2.9-liter V-6, while the Turbo S E-Hybrid continues to be based on the 4.0-liter V-8.

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Porsche

The entry-level hybrid will remain close to its current 462 horsepower output, and the new Panamera 4S E-Hybrid will be rated at 552 horsepower. The Turbo S E-Hybrid gets an upgrade from the previous 680 horsepower and will now crack the 700-horsepower barrier, although Porsche hasn’t yet finalized the exact output. However, unlike on the non-hybrid Turbo S, its V-8 remains largely unchanged. So, we think the enthusiast’s choice is clear: Give us the Turbo S, without the heavy hybrid technology.
All engines are mated to an ultra-quick eight-speed dual-clutch automatic, and all-wheel drive is standard everywhere except for the base model. During our driving, we found that a case can be made for each engine in the lineup, but the hybrids make the biggest leap from the 2020 models, now feeling more natural and offering more aggressive responses in the sportier modes.
Porsche’s engineers also paid attention to the Panamera’s chassis, with refinements to the adaptive dampers and 48-volt active anti-roll systems. The optional air suspension is retuned for noticeably better comfort in the more docile settings, befitting a car that—despite its low silhouette—offers rear-seat space that approaches 7-series, A8, and S-class territory, especially in the long-wheelbase version.

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Porsche

On the other end of the settings, the Panamera has become even more aggressive in its performance modes, no doubt in response to new competitors such as the four-door AMG GT and the BMW M8 Gran Coupe. This sports sedan was never lacking in performance, but the changes to the chassis systems, combined with noticeably more precise steering, should ensure it remains dynamically competitive with the best the competition can offer.
Charging through the sparsely traveled roads of the Northern Black Forest, the Panamera feels incredibly nimble and agile. No other car in its class can be positioned with such precision in both tight and fast corners. The stability control system, depending on the setting, allows for a lot of fun before it kicks in. There’ve been times, on luxury-car launches, when a route that included tight roads only served to expose a car’s shortcomings. In the Panamera, roads like that highlight its superior dynamic capabilities.
Porsche will continue to offer the Panamera with a choice of three bodies: regular, long-wheelbase Executive, and Sport Turismo wagon. While development on the next generation has already started, the current car will be with us for the next few years. Despite the proliferation of slinky German four-doors, the Panamera remains a unique proposition, marrying luxury-sedan comfort with sports-car poise. We’ll see it unmasked in late August.
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Morgan changes slowly and usually not at all. The core structure of the just-retired Plus 4 was barely altered from the one used by the English sports-car maker’s first four-wheeled model, the 4/4 that was launched back in 1936. It wasn’t retro; it was just really old.
The new Plus Four looks identical at 10 paces yet is almost entirely different underneath. The old car’s less-than-rigid steel chassis is gone, replaced by a much stronger bonded aluminum structure. Gone too is the archaic combination of a sliding pillar front suspension and a leaf-sprung live axle at the back, with the new car getting control arms at each corner. Morgan has always been agnostic when it comes to engines, with the original Plus 4 launching in 1950 with a 68-hp Standard engine that was also used in Ferguson tractors. After numerous changes over the years, the Plus 4 ended production with a 154-hp 2.0-liter inline-four built by Ford. Now, in a single generational shift, the Plus Four brings a bigger power increase than the Plus 4 saw over seven decades in the form of a 255-hp BMW 2.0-liter turbo-four under its aluminum hood. That’s not too far off the (also BMW-powered) Aero 8 that debuted in the United States in 2004.

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Morgan

Morgan Plus Four Looks the Same, Is New Underneath

Morgan Plus Six Is a Window to the Past

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

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Morgan

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

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Morgan

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

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Morgan

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

Specifications

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

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

We Compare the Pony Cars of 1993

Tested: Five-Way 1990 Sports Car Shootout

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

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

AARON KILEY

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

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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

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

From the Archive: 1992 Hot Coupe Comparo

Tested: Y2K Super Sedan Comparison

$60K Sports Car Showdown

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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Aaron KileyCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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AARON KILEYCar and Driver

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

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