Reviews

From the June 1990 issue of Car and Driver.America’s very own E.L. Cord once ob­served of the car business, “If you can’t be big, you have to be different.” It has been 80 years since the doors opened at Anonima Lombarda Fabbrica Automobili—”Alfa.” During that period, the company, like some sort of corporate three-toed sloth, has clung tenaciously to Cord’s precept. Nowhere is that clearer than in America, where Alfa has engen­dered a small but loyal cult following. Today, however, the sloth is in danger of falling out of its tree. Explains Darrell Davis, the president of ARDONA (Alfa Romeo Distributors of North America): “Cult followings are neat, I guess, if you’re Jeane Dixon or Elvis Costello. But they’re not going to save serious car com­panies.” And you don’t have to be Jeane Dixon to predict the future of any marque that sells only 2900 cars annual­ly, as Alfa did here in 1989.What to do? “We need one nearly per­fect, mainstream product,” answers Da­vis. That product is the front-wheel-drive 164 sedan, Alfa’s first luxury car and by far the most mainstream Alfa ever to wear the Visconti serpente in the home­land of Errett Lobban Cord. There is only one major component on the Alfa Romeo 164S that is carried over from any previous Alfa. It is the best thing about the car. If Alfa’s all-alumi­num 3.0-liter V-6 were a teenager, it would be a gang leader in East L.A. No normally aspirated V-6 on the market is a more willing participant in delinquent behavior. Revs appear so quickly that first-time drivers find themselves furi­ously slipping the clutch. Power begins in earnest as low as 2500 rpm (indeed, if you sidestep the clutch above that point, the front tires simply vanish in blue smoke) and carries on with smooth fury until 6500 rpm, where a rev limiter as­serts some discipline. Throughout it all, this 60-degree V-6 emits a throaty, grip­ping growl, the sort of noise you’d elicit from a greatly annoyed 100-pound bob­cat. All this, mind you, from a SOHC, two-valve-per-cylinder design. In both the 164 and the 164L (see “Alfa Flavors” sidebar below), this oversquare V-6 produces 183 hp at 5800 rpm. The six in the 164S, sporting a different cam profile, a less restrictive exhaust, and an increase in com­pression (10.0:1 rather than the standard 9.5:1), produces 200 hp at 6000 rpm. We’d guess that that figure is low. With­out raising a sweat, our 164S laid down a string of 0-to-60 runs in the high six-sec­ond range, followed by a quarter-mile time of 15.6 seconds. A trick of gearing? No way. On open stretches of deserted highway in New Mexico, our 164S twice hit an indicated 140 mph (once while a passenger snoozed blissfully), and we later, at Chrysler’s proving grounds, con­firmed a top speed of 142 mph at 6200 rpm. No three-toed sloth, this. On this car, Carrozzeria Pininfarina’s efforts went beyond exterior styling. The design house also worked its magic on the 164S’s interior, which is elegant and sinfully alluring.From a 3418-pound sedan, such per­formance is remarkable—virtually iden­tical, in fact, to that of a Ford Taurus SHO. More important, the 164S leaves for dead the cars that Alfa has fingered as its competition. Namely, the Acura Leg­end, the Audi 100/200, the BMW 525i, the Mercedes-Benz 190E 2.6, the Saab 9000 Turbo, the Sterling 827Si, and the Volvo 760GLE. Of that group, the quick­est competitor is nearly one second slow­er to 60 mph. On top of that, the engine in the 164S, with its chromed nest-of-vipers intake plumbing, is the best-looking power­plant to appear since Ford stuffed Yamaha’s V-6 in the SHO. Checking the 164’s oil at the local Mobil station is guar­anteed to draw low whistles and at least one onlooker who asks, “Is it a V-12?” On this car, Carrozzeria Pininfarina’s efforts went beyond exterior styling. The design house also worked its magic on the 164S’s interior, which is elegant and sinfully alluring. With cowskins stretched everywhere, the smell is divine, and no­where does your hand fall without en­countering rich textures and supple sur­faces. The red stitching in the leather looks like the work of Ferrari, but the sheer number of cockpit amenities could never have come from Maranello. Inside, there are spring-loaded grab handles, a huge glove compartment, four pivoting reading lights, a leather-covered trap­door leading to a ski bag, two rear head­phone jacks with individual volume con­trols, height-adjustable shoulder belts, leather-lined map pockets, a gorgeous felt headliner, silky carpets, a rear-deck storage bin, dual sunshades for the backlight, and, well, you get the drift. And all of it is sewn and stitched and glued together in un-Alfa-like fashion. Nothing in the interior of our car groaned or rattled. As a matter of fact, this is the quietest Alfa yet produced, de­spite its rorty V-6. The entire powertrain is mounted on a subframe, and hydrauli­cally damped engine mounts keep noise and vibration at arm’s length. Cruising at 70 mph, the Alfa is nearly as quiet as a Jaguar Sovereign. At 100 mph (4350 rpm in fifth), we had no difficulty listening to the radio. Behind the wheel, you find that the driving position is, in Alfa’s inimitable way, Italian. Even with the seat far for­ward and the steering wheel at full exten­sion, the driver’s arms are thrust almost straight ahead, Nuvolari style. The prob­lem is that the wheel cannot be adjusted to a more nearly vertical axis. More dis­concerting, however, is headroom. All C/D staffers drove the 164 with its driv­er’s seat in its lowest position, yet our noggins often rubbed the headliner. Avoid any 164 with a sunroof. Or simply wait. Alfa says that it will lower the seats 1.5 inches later in the year. The peculiar driving position notwith­standing, the Recaro-designed seats (electrically adjustable for height, seatback angle, and fore-and-aft posi­tion) are well bolstered and as comfort­able as any on the market. On four occa­sions, we drove uninterrupted 300-mile stints, and nobody complained about needing to get out and stretch. Rear leg­room is good, if not as commodious as that in, say, a Saab 9000. We did haul five people in the 164S, although the fifth rid­er’s perch on the thinly padded center position was tenuous. The standard five-speed shifter is a dual-rod layout—no cables for Alfa, thank you very much—and is perfectly located. Shift effort is light, the throws silky and satisfying.In keeping with the 164’s mainstream character, secondary controls are gener­ally where you expect to find them. The window-lift switches are on the center console—not the headliner, as was the case in the Milano. The white-on-black analog instruments are readable at a glance. And the 164’s “command mod­ule”—those 27 black cubes that operate everything from the trunk release to the heated mirrors—looks more daunting than it really is. For most driving, the only buttons that you punch often are those controlling the temperature settings for the automatic climate control. The standard five-speed shifter is a dual-rod layout—no cables for Alfa, thank you very much—and is perfectly located. Shift effort is light, the throws silky and satisfying. Even weird stuff, like a fifth-to-second downshift, is difficult to muff. Combine that with progressive clutch take-up, exquisite throttle tip-in, and pedals positioned to encourage heel­-and-toeing and you’ve got a sedan that even Uncle Seth can drive smoothly. If for a moment you doubt Alfa’s “mainstream” intentions, consider this: Alfa estimates that 70 percent of U.S. sports-sedan buyers want automatic transmissions. Thus, a four-speed ZF, basically identical to that in the Saab 9000, is available for $685. (We can hear the bodies dropping as Alfisti swoon all across America.) Under full throttle, the automatic shifts at a sporty 5700 rpm, but it does not mate happily with the 164’s rev-happy V-6. At 40 mph, under light throttle, the automatic hunts between second and third, clunking grumpily when it finally does make a decision. And full-throttle launches from a standstill barely chirp the front tires, making this powerful and enthusiastic V-6 feel peaky and pressed—two insults it should never have to endure. Although the Alfa 164 looks big on the outside, it feels small and agile at speed. When we hustled the car through Mis­souri’s Mark Twain National Forest­—and we were, indeed, hustling—we found more body roll and vertical ride motion than we expected, traits similar to those of the 164’s rear-drive predeces­sor, the Milano. Unlike the Milano, how­ever, the 164’s tail cannot be kicked out with an exuberant squirt of throttle. In short, the 164S offers speed, ele­gant styling, a tomb-quiet cockpit, a kick-­out-the-jams V-6, rarity, and more character than any other $30,000 sedan.For a front-drive car, there is excellent weight distribution here—only 57.5 per­cent of the bulk up front—but when you’re really cooking, the nose gets light. It’s easy to chirp the tires on yumps and railroad crossings. Nail the throttle as you’re exiting a tight turn and it is also easy to buzz the inside front tire. For a sports sedan with luxury pretensions, however, there is a fine ride/handling compromise here—supple, confident, with minimal harshness. And the brakes are simply faultless. From 70 mph, the car comes to a fade-free stop in 177 feet, only two feet shy of the distance required by a BMW 535i. In short, the 164S offers speed, ele­gant styling, a tomb-quiet cockpit, a kick-­out-the-jams V-6, rarity (only 3000 copies will be sold in North America this year), and more character than any other $30,000 sedan. “Character,” like por­nography, is hard to define, but as a judge once observed, “I know it when I see it.” Or, in the case of the 164S, “We know it when we feel it.” Any C/D staffer dropped blindfolded into the 164’s cock­pit could tell you, in about two seconds, that he was sitting in an Alfa.A perfect sports sedan? Well, hold on. When our Alfa was healthy, it was a charmer. But during the car’s first 3000 miles, it evinced a disturbing number of flaws. The power-assisted steering began to sing. The heating element in the driv­er’s seat worked at its whim, as did the side-mirror defrosters and the driving lights. The driver’s seat-height adjust­ment died. The brake pedal sank like the Andrea Doria, until heel-and-toeing be­came a real foot tangler. And the climate control had trouble concentrating on a temperature within ten degrees of what we requested. If this richly historical marque disap­pears in America—and the 164 may truly be Alfa’s last chance—all enthusiasts will lament its passing. At the same time, the quality-control flaws are hard to forgive. Knowing that American buyers expect reasonably defect-free cars, Alfa delayed the American launch of the 164 for three years while it racked up 4.7 million miles of testing. No Alfa in history has under­gone that sort of scrutiny. Prospective buyers will, at least, be comforted by the comprehensive three­-year /36,000-mile warranty. “We pay for everything,” says Davis. “Light bulbs, hoses, wiper blades, oil changes, brake pads, scheduled service, everything but tires. If the car quits, we’ll buy airfare or a rental car so you can continue your trip. Then we flatbed the thing to a dealer, no questions asked.” That’s the silver lining. But Alfa’s lifelong battle with build quali­ty remains just that—a battle—and it makes the 164S a high-maintenance proposition.Finding those dealers no longer re­quires a road atlas, either. Seventy Chrys­ler Europa dealers have joined the team, raising Alfa’s total number of outlets to 202. Pilots are fond of the expression “Ev­ery cloud has a silver lining, but some of them also have a Boeing 747 rattling around in there.” The 164 is like that. It is the most mainstream car Alfa has ever produced, delivering remarkable perfor­mance and opulence for its price—which should attract a whole new set of well­-heeled buyers. That’s the silver lining. But Alfa’s lifelong battle with build quali­ty remains just that—a battle—and it makes the 164S a high-maintenance proposition. At this critical point in Alfa’s struggle to survive in the U.S., that’s a problem the size of a Boeing 747.Alfa Flavors: A Handsome Sedan With Three FacesIn North America, the Alfa Romeo 164 is offered in three levels of trim: the base 164 ($24,500), the 164L ($27,500), and the 164S ($29,500). Standard equipment on even the base car is impressive: power-assisted steering, air conditioning, cruise con­trol, power windows and locks, a six­-speaker stereo, power-adjustable front seats, and a driver-side air bag. Move up to the 164L—the model that Alfa predicts will account for 70 per­cent of sales—and you get Bosch anti­lock brakes, leather upholstery, alloy wheels, and metallic paint. Go whole­-hog for the tip-of-the-flagpole 164S and the list of amenities swells fur­ther: two-way cockpit-adjustable sus­pension, Pirelli P4000 tires (rather than Goodyear Eagle NCTs), an extra seventeen horsepower, unique Speedline alloy wheels, and an “aero” body kit.As is the case with so many skirt-­and-spoiler packages, that on the 164S—designed by Alfa in Italy­—does damage to the car’s graceful, airy lines, making it look bulkier than Pininfarina ever intended. The bi­zarre downward slope of the air dam’s side panels, for example, does for the 164S what extra eyeliner does for Tammy Faye Bakker. If that bothers you, don’t hesitate to move one step down, to the 164L (until ABS is of­fered, we can’t wholeheartedly en­dorse the base 164). If the slightly less powerful V-6 degrades the driving ex­perience, we didn’t notice it.No matter how you slice it, the 164 is easily the most elegant postwar Alfa sedan, and it is far more pleasing to the eye than the other cars that share its “Tipo Quattro” platform: the Fiat Chroma, the Lancia Thema, and the Saab 9000.Arrow pointing downArrow pointing downSpecificationsSpecifications
1990 Alfa Romeo 164SVehicle Type: front-engine, front-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door sedan
PRICE
Base/As Tested: $29,875/$30,675Options: power sunroof, $800
ENGINESOHC V-6, aluminum block and heads, port fuel injectionDisplacement: 181 in3, 2959 cm3Power: 200 hp @ 6000 rpmTorque: 189 lb-ft @ 4400 rpm 
TRANSMISSION[S]5-speed manual
CHASSIS
Suspension, F/R: struts/strutsBrakes, F/R: 11.2-in vented disc/9.9-in discTires: Pirelli P4000195/65VR-15
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 104.7 inLength: 179.3 inWidth: 69.3 inHeight: 55.1 inPassenger Volume, F/R: 50/41 ft3Trunk: 18 ft3Curb Weight: 3418 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS30 mph: 2.6 sec60 mph: 6.9 sec1/4-Mile: 15.6 sec @ 91 mph100 mph: 18.9 secTop Gear, 30–50 mph: 9.9 secTop Gear, 50–70 mph: 10.0 secTop Speed: 142 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 177 ftRoadholding, 300-ft Skidpad: 0.77 g 
C/D FUEL ECONOMY
Observed: 22 mpg
EPA FUEL ECONOMYCity/Highway: 17/25 mpg 
C/D TESTING EXPLAINED More

On Earth, the Northern and Southern hemispheres synchronize and experience approximately equal amounts of daylight and darkness twice a year. That’s one kind of equinox. A new Chevrolet Equinox, though, comes around a lot less frequently than that. After six years on the market—and more than 1.6 million sales—the current Equinox is showing its age. Its automatic transmission offers only six forward gears. Its segment-leading powertrains—a 252-hp turbo four paired with a nine-speed, plus a 43-mpg turbodiesel—were discontinued before the pandemic. COVID delayed the Equinox refresh by more than a year, and when it finally hit, a trio of sharp-looking EVs and the Corvette Z06 left the lightly restyled Equinox looking like a placeholder, a vestige of the 2010s hanging around long enough to witness the arrival of its dashing electric successor. Nevertheless, even in a state of neglect, this compact SUV is still the second-most popular Chevy, behind only the Silverado.HIGHS: Agile and solid chassis, great infotainment, always in dealer stock. At a Chevy dealer, the Equinox presents itself as an easy choice. It’s sensibly sized between the puny Trax and the tall-boy Traverse. The Blazer looks hotter but offers about the same interior room while costing 10 grand more. The Trailblazer is a tight squeeze, and its top trims get pricey. An Equinox, though, seems like a fair deal, with a $29,595 base price for an all-wheel-drive LS. Fuel economy is decent, there’s plenty of space, and there’s almost always a factory incentive even in these buyer-unfriendly times. Michael Simari|Car and DriverIf you wander out to other dealers at your local auto mall, however, you might realize why the Equinox is our 13th choice when ranking compact SUVs. Horsepower is up five for the new year, but 175 ponies fighting against 3627 pounds makes for a slow, drawn-out battle during every highway merge. Granted, that’s not uncommon in this segment, even for brand-new entries such as the Honda CR-V and Kia Sportage, but it’s a letdown for a vehicle that once offered 252 horses. The 1.5-liter turbo four is at least smooth and free of the nasty, grating sounds that characterized GM’s old naturally aspirated fours. Off-the-line acceleration is adequate since all 203 pound-feet of torque arrives at 2000 rpm and sticks around until 4000 rpm. Our 8.0-second 60-mph time bested the 2018 Equinox 1.5T by the better part of a second, and in every performance test, the 2023 model was significantly quicker despite its near-equal weight and same powertrain. (For the record, a turbo 2.0-liter Equinox hit 60 in 6.6 seconds.)More Equinoxes Of YoreWe’re not sure why this latest Equinox 1.5T has such an acceleration advantage. In both cases, the quickest runs were with all-wheel drive disabled. That extra productive wheelspin at launch in front-wheel drive helped us shave 0.3 to 0.4 seconds off our time to 60 mph. Unlike nearly every other all-wheel-drive crossover, the Equinox doesn’t automatically route torque to the rear axle when the front tires slip. There’s an AWD button the driver must push to activate the system, and it’s easy to forget. On the road, pointed left to make a turn, you’ll be panicking when the front wheels light up in the middle of the intersection with cars coming at you from both directions. Pro tip: Unless you’re drag-racing an ’07 Altima, always turn on AWD.Once you’re underway, the transmission ratios have wider gaps than a New York subway platform. Top-gear passing from 50 to 70 mph takes six agonizing seconds. Every other automaker except Mazda gave up on six-speed transmissions in crossovers, and we remember just how good the nine-speed behaved in past Equinox models.This outmoded powertrain is a major drag on an otherwise A-grade General Motors chassis. Vibrations are well damped, body roll is minimal, and there’s some actual feel from the steering. Braking is above average for the class at 159 feet from 70 mph. For 2023, Chevy swapped the vacuum booster and master cylinder for an electrohydraulic system that reduces both weight and complexity. We didn’t notice a difference in pedal feel. The body structure and excellent ride compliance make for lively, predictable handling even if the all-season Hankook tires only hang on for 0.82 g of lateral grip. With these solid bones and the 2.0-liter engine, the Equinox was performing at Audi Q5 levels just a few years ago. With its stardom faded, the Equinox might be ready to take up a residency in Las Vegas.Appearance-wise, the RS trim with the blacked-out grille, wheels, and bow-tie badges is as slick as it gets, though this version should age better than the sci-fi Kia Sportage and the frumpy Subaru Forester. Inside, the materials are adequate for the Equinox’s sub-$30K starting price. The RS’s optional leather—which feels like vinyl—includes red piping across the seats and red stitching on the steering wheel, armrest, and gear shifter. At $38,010 as tested, other crossover interiors wear it better.Michael Simari|Car and DriverHard plastic dominates most of the lower sections of the doors and dash, though Chevy has thankfully broken its habit of using cheap-feeling grains. The front seats, too, have shed their stiff ironing-board construction for real comfort. Rear passengers enjoy ample legroom and headroom, though other compact SUVs such as the Nissan Rogue and CR-V offer significantly more cargo space with the seats folded. Still, 64 cubic feet will swallow a small bureau and is nearly the capacity of a short-bed Silverado with a tonneau cover. The optional 8.0-inch touchscreen is crisp and easy to use, with the ability to download apps and upload vehicle settings to Chevy’s cloud so you can load them in another connected GM vehicle. The 360-degree cameras project very sharp images, with nearly a dozen views.LOWS: Yesteryear transmission, down on power, unintuitive AWD system. The Equinox will eventually get a reboot, likely after the handsome Equinox EV starts production in late 2023. In the meantime, if you want to drive the latest and greatest Equinox, you’ll need to visit China, where the RS packs the 2.0-liter turbo paired with a 48-volt hybrid system. Maybe we’ll get something like that, after another trip or two around the sun.Arrow pointing downArrow pointing downSpecificationsSpecifications
2023 Chevrolet Equinox RS AWDVehicle Type: front-engine, all-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door wagon
PRICE
Base/As Tested: $33,695/$38,010Options: RS Leather package (Bose premium audio system, black leather seat upholstery), $1580; power sunroof, $1495; Safety and Infotainment package (heated steering wheel, 2 USB data ports, 120-volt power outlet, 8.0-inch touchscreen infotainment, wireless Android Auto and Apple CarPlay, surround-view camera, heated exterior mirrors, adaptive cruise control), $1200; front-license-plate bracket, $40
ENGINE
turbocharged and intercooled DOHC 16-valve inline-4, aluminum block and head, direct fuel injectionDisplacement: 91 in3, 1490 cm3Power: 175 hp @ 5600 rpmTorque: 203 lb-ft @ 2000 rpm
TRANSMISSION
6-speed automatic
CHASSIS
Suspension, F/R: struts/multilinkBrakes, F/R: 11.8-in vented disc/11.3-in discTires: Hankook Kinergy GT235/50R-19 99H M+S TPC 3161MS
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 107.3 inLength: 183.1 inWidth: 72.6 inHeight: 65.4 inPassenger Volume, F/R: 52/47 ft3Cargo Volume, Behind F/R: 64/30 ft3Curb Weight: 3627 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 8.0 sec1/4-Mile: 16.3 sec @ 85 mph100 mph: 24.6 sec120 mph: 46.2 secResults above omit 1-ft rollout of 0.3 sec.Rolling Start, 5–60 mph: 8.7 secTop Gear, 30–50 mph: 4.6 secTop Gear, 50–70 mph: 6.0 secTop Speed (C/D est): 125 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 159 ftRoadholding, 300-ft Skidpad: 0.82 g
EPA FUEL ECONOMY
Combined/City/Highway: 26/24/30 mpg
C/D TESTING EXPLAINEDContributing EditorClifford Atiyeh is a reporter and photographer for Car and Driver, specializing in business, government, and litigation news. He is vice president of the New England Motor Press Association and committed to saving both manuals and old Volvos. More

From the November 1978 issue of Car and Driver.Sixteen years ago, at the unveiling of the original Buick Riviera, Car and Driver boldly pronounced it a “new breed of American automobile” that “approaches Bentley Continental standards at less than half the price.” Grand touring is what our predecessors were raving about. Buick in­vented the all-American GT coupe, and Americans loved it. The Riv was fast and comfortable and handsome; a metal sculpture in a world of chrome-plated look­alikes. Buick made automotive history with the car, and today collectors are bid­ding close to the original prices to put them in their garages. The vintage they’re after is the original 1963–65 117-inch wheelbase Riviera, which still stands as a golden achievement of American industrial design. In 1966, the Riviera started its tragic journey down the path of wretched excess. Like all things Detroit back then, it got longer, wider, and much heavier. This unfortunate trend con­tinued with the third-edition, boat-tailed Riv, introduced in 1971. They’re still scratching heads over this one in Flint. More than likely, we’ll never know how it all went wrong, now that Bill Mitchell’s gone off to a hard-earned retirement. He’s certainly not talking. The fourth-edition Riviera was little more than a 1977 LeSabre with a Coke­-bottle rise to its rear fenders. Sales statis­tics prove it was a failure, but at least it had turned back toward the path of righ­teousness with 700 pounds of weight sliced out of its fat flanks. More from the tri-shield divisionNow, after one initial flash of brilliance followed by three restyle fiascoes, the Rivi­era is heading for its seventeenth year as Buick’s image leader. But instead of con­tinuing to live off old glories, Buick plan­ners have decided the time is right to rein­vent the great American road car. Their aim is to match the original Riviera’s pres­tige, and the opportunity has arrived with the 1979 model year. The new Riviera will be one of three new “E-car” designs from GM, in a joint development venture among Buick, Cadillac (Eldorado), and Oldsmobile (Toronado). In most respects, this all-new chassis forges dead ahead toward 1985, when all cars big and small must do their part toward a fleet fuel-economy average of 27.5 mpg. Little has been saved from the past, and for this we can be thankful. Needless bulk, nearly a half-ton of weight, and yesterday’s styling excesses have been left behind. Oldsmobile and Cadillac did retain their front-drive technology, as well as a slight family resemblance. For Buick, it’s a fresh piece of work, and certainly the best way to begin a second career for the Riviera. But not so fresh that past success­es were ignored. There’s been a fond look all the way back to 1963 to see if some of the original Riviera magic could be in­stilled in this new rendition. Lloyd Reuss is the visionary in Flint, Michigan—Buick Town, U.S.A.—who was charged with simultaneously looking forward and backward when it came to the new Riviera. Reuss took the helm as Buick’s chief engineer in 1975, just as crit­ical planning for the new car began. He’s a car guy—one who makes sure the “sport” is in the sport coupes, and that turbocharg­ers are earning their keep atop Buick V-6 engines. Lloyd Reuss is also the man who saved the Riviera from oblivion. The roadable Riviera that best emulates both the original namesake and Lloyd Reuss’s intention is the S Type of this test. The S stands for “sport,” but it could just as well stand for “suspension,” because it is in roadholding that the S Type distin­guishes itself from the plain Riviera that Buick will send forth as its luxury coupe. For the S Type, the tires go from base P205R-15 radials to more purposeful GR70-15s, the shock valving and spring rates are tightened up, and fatter anti-sway bars are used to control body roll while limiting understeer. Inside, the driver is more aware of what’s going on at the road through higher-effort power steering and a genuinely supportive bucket seat. We’ve come a long way in ride and han­dling since radial tires came into popular use, and the new Riviera is without a doubt the leading edge of GM’s achieve­ment in this area. The ride is as smooth as you’d expect it to be in a car that costs more than $10,000. But there’s also sensi­tive steering, deadeye directional stability, and no discernible front-wheel-drive feel. The S Type will pull 0.69 g on the skid­pad, not a bad accomplishment for a car this big, and there’s more than enough roadholding to leave conventional luxury cars floundering in your wake. Amazingly enough, the Riviera doesn’t signal its trac­tion limits by falling into a crippling un­dersteer. In tight turning, you run out of cornering power about the same time you run out of horsepower, so there’s a stale­mate before maneuvers get nasty enough to chew up the tires. If you’ve been paying attention to Euro­pean sedan advertising for the past few years, you knew there’d be handling break­throughs like this the instant an American manufacturer went to the trouble of build­ing an independent-rear-suspension (IRS) car. In truth, mounting each rear wheel at the end of its own semi-trailing arm, as Buick has done with the Riviera, does nothing to im­prove smooth-road handling. The combi­nation of body roll and rear-suspension ge­ometry forces the rear tires into camber angles that actually diminish their lateral adhesion. A radial’s grip isn’t particularly sensitive to this camber change, so the sac­rifice is slight. But it doesn’t really matter, because the rear tires aren’t the limiting factor in cornering anyway. It’s the front tires—burdened with both driving and turning forces—that invariably use up their traction first. So why even bother with IRS? For one thing, there are tremen­dous ride benefits with lower unsprung weight and decoupled rear tires, which Buick has exploited to the fullest extent. Next in importance is the fact that an IRS uses up a lot less space at the rear of the car than a rigid axle. This has allowed Buick to move rear passengers further rearward, increasing legroom substantial­ly. Also, there’s more space available for the trunk. The Riviera’s luggage capacity is now 17.0 cubic feet (with very usable length, width, and height dimensions), down only slightly from last year’s 19.8 cu­bic feet, even though 12 inches has been chopped off the overall length. Last on this list of independent-rear-suspension effects is handling. IRS keeps the rear of the car in line through chatter-bump turns, where your average rigid-axle sedan typically does a tail-first fandango toward the weeds.So really, IRS is a do-all. American manufacturers have pleaded the cost case for years, but if IRS can be made to benefit packaging, ride, and bad-road handling, as it certainly does in the Riviera, it’s obvi­ously a worthwhile improvement. In spite of being armed with America’s most sophisticated suspension layout, the Riviera S Type is not a front-wheel-drive, four-passenger Corvette. Far from it. Roll stiffness is low to minimize bump interfer­ence, which means you have to endure un­comfortable list angles to use all the road­holding at your disposal. Shock valving is tuned for an underdamped ride, so the Riv wallows when you try to rush it over undu­lating pavement. This is where Buick’s pri­orities come out most vividly: the Rivi­era—even in S Type trim—is first a park­-lane cruiser and second a back-road han­dler. It’s just as well because, as a built-for­-tomorrow fuel-economy special, the Rivi­era is hardly what you’d call a hard charg­er. Brute-force two-four-barrel engines and 120-mph all-day-long cruising speeds are gone forever from new cars, in case you hadn’t noticed. Buick’s fuel-economy obli­gations won’t permit installing much raw power under the Riviera’s hood, but in­stead of letting it go at that, the engineers offer an alternative. They’d like you to try a little sophistication for a change. Base power for the S Type is Buick’s turbo V-6, and the fact that a 3.8-liter engine would even be considered for a 3800-pound luxury car should tell you something about the wonderful engineering program this micro-­motor’s been through.The whole top half of the engine—heads, intake and exhaust manifolds—is new, so the V-6 can breathe properly for the first time in its seventeen­-year history.The V-6’s palsy was cured two years ago with the invention of an even-fire crank­shaft; its muscles were developed last year with turbocharging; and, this year, another round of refinement and retooling has been dedicated to the V-6 to make it even more socially acceptable. The whole top half of the engine—heads, intake and exhaust manifolds—is new, so the V-6 can breathe properly for the first time in its seventeen­-year history. Ports are larger and smooth­er, valves are bigger in diameter, and all passages from the cold-air intake to the tip of the tailpipe now have the capacity to draw in 43 percent more airflow and ex­haust 83 percent more spent gas. At this rate, Buick’s V-6 will be ready for Indy in a few more years, and in something more speedy than the pace car. In the meantime, the V-6 is on line for its prestigious Riviera debut with 185 net horsepower. At least ten of these horses are a Riviera exclusive for the time being, because the front-wheel-drive layout al­lowed exhaust plumbing that’s ideal for turbocharging. Since there was room to position the turbo at the rear of the engine (rather than on top as in the Regal Sport Coupe), the left- and right-bank exhaust streams to the turbine section are almost perfectly balanced. This squeezes the most possible work out of waste exhaust energy, and also discourages flow through intake-manifold heat-riser passages (unless it’s needed after a cold start). As a result, there’s less charge heating on the induction side, less restriction on the exhaust side, and more power out the crankshaft.Whether or not the new, improved V-6 will be judged appropriate for a big road car is yet to be seen. There are demands on the driver and compensations to be made. The turbo V-6 in our test car had a ner­vous twitch at idle that anyone brought up on well-behaved V-8s would find discon­certing. Also, the power-to-weight ratio of the Riviera with either the turbo V-6 or the normally aspirated 350-cubic-inch V-8 is depressing at best. Dial in the 2.93:1 axle ratio (2.41:1 with the 350 V-8), and you end up with acceleration that’s in the “eventually” class. Zero-to-sixty takes 10.9 seconds of patience, and a quarter-mile lasts 18.3 seconds. (If it’s any compensa­tion, these figures are quicker than those of that prestigious six-cylinder coupe from the Black Forest, the Mercedes-Benz 280CE.) Keep the red boost light on with your right foot and the Riviera will eventu­ally peak out at 105 mph, although the speedometer is X-rated above 85. The turbo V-6 also asks you to put up with a power curve fraught with dips and sags. Accelerating from rest, the engine feels like a little V-6 up to 20 mph, where the boost indicator switches from yellow (2 psi manifold pressure), to red (over 5 psi manifold pressure). Then the pace picks up and there’s that stimulating feel of the seat pressing into your back as if two more cyl­inders just came to life. Unfortunately, the initial thrill of boost doesn’t last long, and the second-gear pull brings on a rather per­sistent detonation, as well as occasional soft spots in the power curve. Buick engineers assure us that some spark knock during wide-open-throttle op­eration means the detonation detector is working just as it should. This device actu­ally listens for pre-ignition and signals Buick’s “Turbo Control Center” when to advance or retard ignition timing for best performance. Light knocking under boost happens to be Buick’s idea of best perform­ance, so this is part of what you have to live with in the fuel-economy-through-tur­bocharging era. Good seating is only the first ingredient of the Riviera’s long-haul comfort. Its smooth roof pillar and laid-back wind­shield cut wind ruffle to an all-time low for the cars we’ve tested.Old values die hard, and America hasn’t yet kicked its fat-torque-curve habit. Inter­estingly enough, the turbo engine does have a higher peak output than the con­ventional 350 V-8, which is the only engine alternative offered in the Riviera. Side by side in a drag race, the normally aspirated car immediately steps out to a one-car­-length lead off the line. The Turbo Riv gradually overcomes this handicap and draws even at 60 mph. Although the two never really lose sight of each other, the pressurized V-6 eventually slips into a lead because its horsepower falloff is less pro­nounced at high rpm. Nobody’s likely to fall in love with the new Riviera for its acceleration. Fortunately, there are compensations. Even though fuel economy probably isn’t high on your list as you shop for a car in the five-figure class, it’s of more than passing interest to Buick. Gen­eral Motors must by law sell a 19-mpg (or more) fleet of cars in 1979, and Buick will do its share with small turbocharged engines wherever possible. The turbo V-6 cranks out a combined city-highway EPA rating of 19 mpg this year, compared to the 350 V-8’s 18 mpg, so you know which way Buick will be urging its customers. Subtle prodding will not be necessary to help buyers appreciate the Riviera’s roomi­ness, however. It will no doubt go down as the most spacious four-seat car ever sold in America. The wheelbase is fairly long at 114.0 inches (the same as the Cadillac Se­ville’s), and when you add in the long, car­riage-style roof and take out all traces of a driveline hump, the Riviera gets to be quite a lovely place for four to sit for a while. (So lovely that Cadillac will build this car into a four-door in 1980 and call it the Seville.) The Riviera’s seats are chair-high and offer good support, all the way from your shoul­der blades down to the backsides of your knees. The matching bucket-seat treatment in back makes the rear compartment just as good a place to be as the front. Good seating is only the first ingredient of the Riviera’s long-haul comfort. Its smooth roof pillars and laid-back wind­shield cut wind ruffle to an all-time low for the cars we’ve tested. Some pleasure should also come from the fact that Buick designers have applied unusually high standards of taste (for Detroit) to the Rivi­era. We’re proud to announce it doesn’t have a classically overdone boudoir interior. The velour upholstery is wrinkle-free and cropped to a low profile, and wall trimmings are keyed to function more than flash. The really stunning decoration is the instrument panel, which sweeps across the front like a solid wall of slate. The surface looks much more like a slab of rock than the piece of molded plastic it actually is, and the treatment is refreshing if only be­cause it’s not wood-grained. There is an optional centerpiece for this mantel that should not be missed. Follow­ing Cadillac’s lead in the Seville last year, Buick will introduce a mid-year “trip mon­itor” for the Riviera. This obsoletes needle-­type instruments in one fell swoop, replac­ing both the speedometer and the fuel gauge with digital readouts. A third dis­play panel, to the right of the speedometer, comes into play as you punch up various combinations on the trip monitor’s twelve­-button keyboard. Time of day, engine tem­perature, and electrical-system voltage are the only non-trip pieces of information you can call up, and this leaves nine keys left to plot your trajectory to grandma’s house. In contrast to the Seville’s trip computer, the Riviera’s has no fuel-flow meter, so hitting the “Fuel Range” button spits out an esti­mate calculated from a consumption curve, road speed, and the amount of fuel remaining in the tank. As its name suggests, this computer is primarily a trip device meant to keep you up to date on things like time and the dis­tance to your destination. But as long as Buick has gone to the trouble to offer an onboard microprocessor, we’d like to see it developed into a serious scientific instru­ment for those road pilots who really ap­preciate a gizmo like this. It could be wired with readouts on oil pressure, oil tempera­ture, engine rpm, instantaneous fuel econo­my, turbo boost pressure, turbine rpm, and exhaust temperature. If we can’t go fast in our road cars anymore, why shouldn’t we have as much fun as possible going slow? So sixteen years later, the Rivi­era has regained a niche as prestigious as its starting point.This seems to be Buick’s general attitude with the Riviera S Type anyway. It’s an attitude that’s delivered us a car with all the sophistication and most of the per­formance of some highly revered automo­biles: the Saab Turbo, the Mercedes-Benz 280CE, and the Volvo 262C. What the Riviera lacks in fun-to-drive roadability next to these cars, it more than makes up in comfort. So sixteen years later, the Rivi­era has regained a niche as prestigious as its starting point. Our predecessors would no doubt have concluded that it ap­proaches Mercedes-Benz 280CE standards at less than half the price.Arrow pointing downArrow pointing downSpecificationsSpecifications
1979 Buick Riviera S TypeVehicle Type: front-engine, front-wheel-drive, 4-passenger, 2-door sedan
PRICEAs Tested: $11,500 (est.)
ENGINE
Turbocharged pushrod V-6, iron block and headsDisplacement: 231 in3, 3780 cm3Power: 185 hp @ 4000 rpmTorque: 280 lb-ft @ 2400 rpm 
TRANSMISSION3-speed automatic
CHASSIS
Suspension, F/R: control arms/multilinkBrakes, F/R: 10.5-in vented disc/10.5-in vented discTires: Uniroyal Steel Belted Radial
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 114.0 inLength: 206.6 inWidth: 70.4 inHeight: 54.3 inCurb Weight: 3856 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 10.9 sec1/4-Mile: 18.3 sec @ 74 mph100 mph: 46.7 secTop Speed (observed): 105 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 211 ftRoadholding: 0.77 g 
C/D TESTING EXPLAINED More

At some point, a memo must have gone out. It decreed that all super-SUVs would hew to the same template: twin-turbo V-8, a torque-converter automatic transmission, and full-time all-wheel drive, all stuffed into a rakish but conventional four-door body. That’s the formula as practiced by Mercedes-AMG, Porsche, Maserati, BMW, Aston Martin, Lamborghini, and Audi. Ferrari, though, didn’t get the memo. Thus its first SUV, the Purosangue, uses a 715-hp naturally aspirated 6.5-liter V-12 and a rear-mounted dual-clutch transaxle. Power to the front axle is delivered by a separate two-speed transmission that’s only active in conjunction with the rear axle’s first four gears. The rear doors are rear-hinged and power-operated, offering primo access to a pair of heated, ventilated, massaging back seats. And there’s Multimatic’s TASV spool-valve active dampers, four-wheel steering, and bodywork that has more aero tricks than a Formula 1 car. Ferrari was cognizant that its first SUV had to be something special, and the resulting effort will make a fine companion piece to whatever other exotics populate a given garage, valet line, or secret underground lair.You could say there was some parts-shelf engineering at play with the Purosangue, but that’s an agreeable arrangement when the parts come from the 812 Superfast, with which the Purosangue shares its dry-sump, direct-injected F140 V-12. Here, that lusty mill is tuned for more bottom-end torque (80 percent of its 528-pound-feet maximum is available at 2100 rpm) but still good for an 8000-rpm redline. The front transmission is derived from the one that debuted in the FF and is driven off the nose of the engine, with two clutches that enable front-axle torque vectoring (and allow the two-speed front transmission to match wheel speed with the first four forward gears of the rear transaxle). The Purosangue’s long hood isn’t just for stylistic effect, given the packaging challenges of mounting a transmission in front of a V-12. Ferrari claims a zero-to-62-mph time of 3.3 seconds, which seems plausible, if not conservative.For most cars, a screaming V-12 would be the defining piece of hardware, but the Purosangue’s engine costars with its suspension, which uses 48-volt electric motors at each corner to actively level the body. Instead of merely reacting to uneven pavement, the Purosangue’s four suspension assemblies compare notes every 50 milliseconds to smother bumps by either lifting or lowering each wheel independently. But the system isn’t entirely motor-based. The electric motors work in tandem with a traditional spring and damper, so they’re not doing all the work—more like providing timely nudges to enhance the returns.It’s almost hard to say exactly how well the system works because we’d need to visit a well-known road for a frame of reference. As it is, pavement that looks like it should deliver a shattering ride simply doesn’t. All is serene and locked down, such that the dampers’ Sport setting is mostly performance theater—even with the suspension in its softest setting, body control is precise. The enormous 22-inch front tires and 23-inch rears feel like they have BFGoodrich KO2 sidewalls while simultaneously delivering instantaneous response. There’s no side-to-side head toss caused by the anti-roll bars because there are no anti-roll bars. In fact, the electric motors would allow the Purosangue to lean into corners if Ferrari programmed it that way. When we asked a Ferrari engineer if the Purosangue could theoretically leap over an obstacle in the road, he thought about it and said yes. He wandered away before we could ask about the possibilities of three-wheel motion or Carolina squatting.Since the Purosangue will be expected to handle some light off-road work, by which we mean climbing speed bumps in Bal Harbour, the suspension has a lift setting. But lifting the body requires the motors to stay powered up, so you can’t drive around that way all day. In fact, the motors work hard enough in daily driving to require their own heat exchanger and cooling circuit. And while the hardware is from Multimatic and could theoretically end up on other cars, the control software was done in-house by Ferrari engineers, and we’d guess they’re not sharing notes. So, for now, if you want active suspension, you’ll need $402,050 to order a Purosangue. (That’s the $393,350 base price, plus a $5000 destination charge and the $3700 gas guzzler tax incurred by EPA ratings of 12 mpg city and 16 mpg highway.)View PhotosThat electric motor on the left powers a gear that spins a ball screw to drive the strut up or down near-instantaneously. The four motors are powerful enough to require their own cooling system.Ezra Dyer|Car and DriverWith its torque vectoring, active suspension, and four-wheel steering, the Purosangue manages to feel calm and planted on straightaways while retaining the ability to scythe into corners the moment you turn the wheel. The rear-axle steering system, adapted from the 812 Competizione, can steer each wheel independently up to two degrees—so, for instance, the outside wheel can help the rear end follow the nose into a corner, and Ferrari adjusts the toe under braking and hard acceleration to lend stability. At low speeds, as in a parking garage, the instrument cluster’s camera display shows green traces that predict your steering path, including one for the inside rear wheel to remind the driver that there’s steering going on back there too.This phalanx of hardware and software operates so harmoniously that you’re seldom reminded of the fiendish complexity operating behind the scenes, the ones and zeros flitting across all those wiring harnesses, the clutches slipping and gears engaging somewhere down below the floorpan at just the right moments. It all just jells into a big, fast car that seems to be good at everything. The only time you’re reminded of the Purosangue’s vast catalog of elaborate systems is when you’re forced to interact with some of them through the steering wheel, which is where Ferrari saw fit to put, oh, all of the controls. Ferrari crammed so many buttons and knobs and haptic touchpads on the front of the steering wheel that it ran out of space and had to start strewing controls across the back of it too—changing the audio source requires locating a tiny nub of a button behind the right steering-wheel spoke, and that nub is located next to a toggle switch that controls track selection, which is also within a stray finger’s reach of the right shift paddle, and the right turn signal button, and a haptic pad that controls the instrument cluster display and menus, and the windshield wiper and washer activation button, and the wiper settings knob, and the manettino lever that controls drive modes and suspension settings. “What if I accidentally touch that haptic pad while I’m diving into Turn 3 at Imola?” you ask. Good question. Ferrari anticipated that, which is why those buttons don’t respond until you touch them twice, thus implying intention. If we have time later, we’ll tell you about the left side of the steering wheel. More Ultra-High-Performance SUVsThe sole physical control on the dash is a round knob that belongs to the climate-control system. It’s flush with the dash but powers out when you touch it. You then access settings by spinning the knob and jabbing at its tiny touchscreen to activate the seat heaters, say, or massage function. (There’s an identical knob between the rear bucket seats.) To the left and right of the knob are a few more haptic controls hiding behind glass, controlling specific functions like the rear-window defroster and suspension lift. The only large touchscreen is in front of the passenger seat, deliberately inaccessible to the driver, and that one provides the kind of display you might expect to find in the center of the dash—here there’s room to spell out “shiatsu” on the massage options or show cover art for your Def Leppard greatest hits playlist. The rear seats—which instantly clear the low bar of “best back seats ever in a Ferrari”—are accessed via power-operated rear-hinged doors that operate completely independently of the front doors. To open one from the outside, you pull and hold a small lever along the bottom of the window that will look familiar to anyone who’s driven a Ford Mustang Mach-E, a cohort that evidently doesn’t include anyone at Ferrari (this is the company, after all, that used the code name F150 for the LaFerrari). A button on the B-pillar closes the doors. This is the kind of cool trick you can include when you don’t really care about weight—Ferrari quotes a dry weight of 4482 pounds in the lightest configuration, but the reality is more like 4800 pounds. Which still makes for a fine power-to-weight ratio, but only because there’s so much power.Then again, this isn’t a sports car. The V-12 makes pretty sounds but keeps them to a dull roar, probably to the delight of Tubi, which will surely do a brisk business in uncorked Purosangue exhaust systems. There’s a launch-control position for the stubby metal-console shift lever, but no track setting on the manettino. The various aerodynamic tricks—underbody diffuser, air curtains to keep airflow attached to the side of the car, hidden ducts and channels in the bodywork—are optimized for cooling and drag reduction rather than ground-hugging downforce. Ferrari resisted the temptation to build a jacked-up F8 Tributo, and that was the right call. Two decades after Porsche rolled out the Cayenne, we ought to be done with the hand-wringing over whether sports-car companies should build SUVs, but surely there will be Ferrari fans who tsk-tsk the company for daring to offer a vehicle that lots of people will want to buy. We’re sure Ferrari will worry a whole lot about those pills as the Purosangue prints money and inevitably becomes the bestselling model in the lineup. And anyway, people who can spend $400,000 on an SUV probably don’t face the binary choice of Purosangue or sports car. They’ll get both. But if, cursed by fate, you can somehow only have one Ferrari? Then this is the one to have.Arrow pointing downArrow pointing downSpecificationsSpecifications
2024 Ferrari PurosangueVehicle Type: front-engine, all-wheel-drive, 4-passenger, 4-door wagon
PRICE
Base: $402,050
ENGINE
DOHC 48-valve V-12, aluminum block and heads, direct fuel injectionDisplacement: 396 in3, 6496 cm3Power: 715 hp @ 7750 rpmTorque: 528 lb-ft @ 6250 rpm
TRANSMISSION
8-speed dual-clutch automatic
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 118.8 inLength: 195.8 inWidth: 79.8 inHeight: 62.6 inCargo Volume: 17 ft3Curb Weight (C/D est): 4850 lb
PERFORMANCE (C/D EST)
60 mph: 3.2 sec100 mph: 7.5 sec1/4-Mile: 11.7 secTop Speed: 193 mph
EPA FUEL ECONOMY 
Combined/City/Highway: 13/12/16 mpgSenior EditorEzra Dyer is a Car and Driver senior editor and columnist. He’s now based in North Carolina but still remembers how to turn right. He owns a 2009 GEM e4 and once drove 206 mph. Those facts are mutually exclusive. More

Few cars have been as hotly anticipated as the Aston Martin Valkyrie. Or have involved such a long wait. The first announcement that Aston Martin and Red Bull Racing were going to collaborate on what was originally called the AM-RB 001 came all the way back in March 2016. Since then, there have been the first renderings, confirmation of the Valkyrie name, announcements of the track-only AMR Pro and Spider variants, the sadly unrealized plans to take it racing, an in-depth look at the Cosworth 6.5-liter V-12 that powers it, a tour through the configuration process, a simulator drive, and a right-seat experience at the 2021 Goodwood Festival of Speed riding shotgun to Aston’s then-CEO Tobias Moers. Nor has it all been smooth sailing, with mounting delays and an as-yet unresolved legal dispute over deposits with a Swiss dealer group. Now, finally, we have driven it.More from Aston MartinLet’s start with the good news for adrenaline-hooked billionaires still waiting to take delivery: The finished car absolutely fulfills designer Adrian Newey’s promise that it would be the most extreme factory-built vehicle ever to wear license plates and faster than most genuine race cars. And although our first experience was limited to the 3.36-mile Bahrain International Circuit, it was in a fully street-legal car on road tires. Okay, so for American buyers, street-legal is a misnomer, as the Valkyrie can only be imported under “Show and Display” requirements—so no commuting or using it to haul lumber from Home Depot. But in Europe, Aston has gone to the considerable cost and complication of securing full homologation. That required the use of what design director Miles Nurnberger proudly introduces as the world’s smallest and lightest rear license plate lamp, which sits on the end of the rear-hung sequential gearbox casing. The Valkyrie’s need to accommodate human cargo was always a low priority in the packaging of the car, with Newey attaching far greater importance to aerodynamic requirements. Yet while the passenger compartment is tiny, it could have been even smaller—Nurnberger recounts a meeting at which he managed to persuade the famous designer to free up an extra 8 millimeters of space (that’s 0.3 inch), a concession that won him a round of applause from the engineering team. “Nobody could remember Adrian having given up more than 1 millimeter before,” Nurnberger says. That concession, however, has not created a spacious cabin; the Valkyrie is a car that’s worn rather than sat in. Climbing in requires an inelegant shuffle over the sidepod and then collapsing into the carbon-fiber racing seat. Once you’re in place, a movable pedal box allows taller drivers to find some legroom, but even with the seat’s modest amount of padding removed, an average-height driver’s helmet-clad head still touches the roof once the door is closed.The 6.5-liter V-12 is the standout highlight, to no surprise. Indeed, it dominates the driving experience to the point of stealing every scene. There is a pause after you press the start button on the steering wheel—then the engine cranks for several seconds to build oil pressure before bursting into raucous life. It is loud idling at 1000 rpm, even through the padding of a helmet, and there is roughly another 10,000 rpm to go before it meets its limiter. But getting rolling from the pit lane is a surprisingly gentle process; there is a launch-control system, but, left to its own devices, the Valkyrie sets off powered exclusively by the 141-hp electric motor that’s fed by a 1.7-kWh battery made by Rimac and sits between the V-12 and the seven-speed transmission. (With no reverse gear, backing up is always done electrically.) The clutch engages to connect the engine with the wheels soon afterward.Our first laps on track are mostly spent trying to acclimate to the savagery of the performance. The Valkyrie is a car beyond mere numbers, however impressive the claimed 2.5-second zero-to-60-mph time and electronically limited 220-mph top speed sound. Those figures are well within the frame of reference for hypercars, yet the experience of the Valkyrie truly is not. This is a car that makes a Koenigsegg One:1 seem refined and subdued.Much of the sense of anarchy is down to the Valkyrie’s combination of noise and vibration when revved. The meshed cogs that drive its camshafts are just inches on the other side of the firewall, and reaching the altitudinous redline brings an almost painful cacophony. But it is also down to the engine’s character and the immediacy of its responses, the complete lack of delay between pressing the accelerator and feeling the reaction. With a combined peak of 1139 horsepower working against a mass of under 3000 pounds, the Valkyrie is hugely fast. At the end of the circuit’s longest straight of 0.6 mile, the digital speedometer shows 300 km/h—186 mph—and that’s using a conservative braking point. Yet subjectively it feels even quicker than that. We spent little time in the chassis’s Urban and Sport modes, both of which are intended for road use. Selecting the most aggressive Track function both causes the active suspension to reduce the ride height and brings the option of a variable traction-control setting. So sharpened, the Valkyrie soon proves that corners can be more than a break between the chance to unleash hell on the straights. Grip is one area where the Aston doesn’t feel otherworldly. Riding on street-legal Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2 tires means there is less raw adhesion than there would be riding on slicks. The hydraulically assisted steering delivers crisp, unambiguous feedback, and turn-in is keen, but the traction control intervenes hard when you’re trying to overlap steering and accelerator inputs. Yet it’s not snappy or scary, even when pushed and with the traction control turned down. Higher speeds bring the extra assistance of downforce from the active wings and diffuser—Aston claims a peak of 2400 pounds of downforce at any speed from 135 mph on up. Faster corners can be taken at what feels like impossible speeds. (Fun fact: The powered flaps within the huge venturi tunnels are colloquially referred to by Aston’s mechanics as “cat flaps.”) Even in the flattering environment of a race circuit and surrounded by mechanics, there were a couple of issues. The car’s brake pedal had a dead patch at the top of its travel, and its resistance softened a couple of times during bigger stops, although the actual level of retardation felt undiminished. The Valkyrie’s engine also cut its redline when the coolant got too hot. Aston blamed Bahrain’s high ambient temperatures, and driving in high gear for half a lap cooled things down and restored the correct rev limiter.While racetracks are huge fun, they’re a poor analog for discovering how any car will deal with the real world. The Valkyrie will always feel massively compromised on ordinary roads. It is cramped, hot, and loud enough to damage its occupants’ hearing without ear protection. Cosworth also says that the engine should be rebuilt every 50,000 miles, a figure we hope some owners will regard as a challenge rather than a threat. Yet none of that diminishes the appeal of what is definitely a pinnacle car, its many compromises drawn directly from its famous designer’s refusal to compromise on his vision. Which is what makes it a masterpiece.Arrow pointing downArrow pointing downSpecificationsSpecifications
2022 Aston Martin ValkyrieVehicle Type: mid-engine, mid-motor, rear-wheel-drive, 2-passenger, 2-door coupe
PRICE
Base: $3,500,000 (est., in Europe)
POWERTRAIN
DOHC 48-valve 6.5-liter V-12, 1001 hp, 575 lb-ft + AC motor, 141 hp, 206 lb-ft (combined output: 1139 hp, 682 lb-ft; 1.7-kWh lithium-ion battery pack)Transmission: 7-speed automated manual
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 109.0 inLength: 177.4 inWidth: 75.6 inHeight: 41.7 inPassenger Volume: Barely ft3Trunk Volume: Doubtful ft3Curb Weight (C/D est): 2850 lb
PERFORMANCE (C/D EST)
60 mph: 2.3 sec100 mph: 3.8 sec1/4-Mile: 7.7 secTop Speed: 220 mph
EPA FUEL ECONOMY
Combined/City/Highway: Not homologated for U.S. highway useCar and driverCar and driver Lettermark logoEuropean EditorMike Duff has been writing about the auto industry for two decades and calls the UK home, although he normally lives life on the road. He loves old cars and adventure in unlikely places, with career highlights including driving to Chernobyl in a Lada. More

From the April 2023 issue of Car and Driver.It’s hard to believe McLaren has been in the road-car game for little more than a decade. (Granted, it was nearly 30 years ago that the McLaren F1 became the be-all and end-all for enthusiasts, but McLaren didn’t produce another street car for years afterward.) Since 2011, the storied Formula 1 brand has launched several root models and completely upset the supercar hierarchy that a pair of Italian companies had long dominated. And while all of those models, including the MP4-12C, the 570S, the Senna, and the 720S, have their own character, they’ve all shared a very similar set of components. The Artura is new, and not like your favorite streaming service’s latest round of reboots. New as in never before. Think Severance, not Bel-Air. For all intents, it is McLaren’s second series-production car. And it’s a plug-in hybrid. This content is imported from youTube. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site.McLaren Artura 0–190 MPHWatch onYouTube IconYouTube IconThe Artura’s 181-pound carbon-fiber tub looks a lot like the old one manufactured by Carbo Tech in Austria, only it’s stronger and lighter and has a cavity that incorporates the audio system’s subwoofer. It’s also now made in-house at McLaren’s carbon-fiber factory in Sheffield, England. The engine, a 120-degree 577-hp twin-turbocharged 3.0-liter V-6, is more of a departure. All McLarens before (except the F1, with its BMW V-12) used a V-8 displacing 3.8 or 4.0 liters. Compared with the V-8, this new V-6 is about 110 pounds lighter and shockingly small. Like “I didn’t know the original Mini was that small” small. The eight-speed dual-clutch transaxle is about the same size as the old seven-speed, thanks in part to its lack of a reverse geartrain, but it now incorporates McLaren’s first application of an electronically controlled limited-slip differential. All reversing is strictly electric, provided by the motor, a 94-hp axial-flux unit, spinning backward. The motor is just upstream of the transmission input. It’s a power-dense ring that a drunk Ultimate Frisbee player would attempt to discus toss should one be unguarded at closing time. The front suspension still uses control arms, but the rear is now a multilink design said to improve stiffness and reduce deflection. There’s no hydropneumatic suspension here; it’s coil springs and anti-roll bars just like in the GT that sits below the Artura in the lineup.That’s a lot of time spent telling you about the new hardware. But it seems worthwhile because this car launch almost broke the company. McLaren is arguably the smallest, least supported supercar manufacturer selling federalized cars, and rumors of receivership swirled when the Woking-based brand leveraged its lustworthy fleet of historic racers to pay for the expensive development of a new electrical architecture and plug-in-hybrid engineering. Remember, Lamborghini and Porsche have the Volkswagen Group’s deep pockets, and Ferrari, which has been building street cars for more than 70 years, had Fiat backing until fairly recently. HIGHS: Solid rocket-booster acceleration, all-day comfort, beautiful exterior.We are happy to tell you that despite the apparent engineering and financing trouble, the product is worth the wait. Its silhouette is pure speed, like that of a falcon in a 200-mph dive. We were worried that the added mass of a motor (which turned out to be a heavy plate) and the 7.4-kWh lithium-ion battery would ruin the McLaren feel we’re accustomed to. But at 3443 pounds, the car is lighter than a Corvette Z06 and very likely lighter than the Ferrari 296GTB (we’ll know for sure when we test one). The extra weight is so low in the car—and the engine sits entirely below the top of the wheels—it seemingly anchors the Artura to the road. On a flat proving-ground skidpad, the Pirelli P Zero Corsa PZC4 tires stick at 1.08 g’s, and 1.07 are usable on the open road. Turn-in is crisp, and feel—from an electrohydraulic assist—is the best in the business. Resistance builds naturally, then tapers off just before understeer arrives. The chassis balance is much more benign than in the tail-happy 570S, but still far from boring. It safely pegs the public-road fun meter in the red. More on the ArturaThis is a good thing because the car can generate extralegal speed in extra-short time. Hitting 60 mph in 2.6 seconds may be Z06 territory, but the McLaren walks away from the American at higher speeds, reaching 100 mph in 5.5 seconds and completing the quarter-mile in 10.3 seconds at 140 mph. Even the similarly priced Porsche 911 Turbo S Lightweight, which beats the McLaren to 60 and in the quarter (danke, all-wheel-drive traction), is a second slower to reach 180 mph. A 720S is much quicker, but the soon-to-be-replaced 720S also starts some $73,000 higher than the $237,500 Artura. This Volcano Blue example stickers for $284,925, and the vast majority of the options are aesthetic, not functional.LOWS: No more V-8 feels, could be more playful at the limit, and, you know, the price.We didn’t do an official range test of the hybrid system, but we successfully drove the Artura in EV mode for 13.5 miles. About five of those miles were on a 55-mph road, and the remainder were on the highway, very near EV mode’s 81-mph top speed. The motor couldn’t maintain that speed on steep grades. Even so we didn’t need to wake the V-6 on the freeway. The EPA electric-only range of 11 miles is very achievable. On the rest of our drive, we averaged 18 mpg, matching the EPA combined estimate. Rocker switches on the instrument binnacle are a close reach from the steering wheel and provide the ability to change the various powertrain modes (Electric, Comfort, Sport, Track) and chassis modes (Comfort, Sport, Track). The wheel and binnacle move in concert when adjusting for rake and reach. Like Ferrari, McLaren doesn’t want drivers to take their hands off the wheel any more than necessary. Unlike Ferrari, McLaren’s answer wasn’t to put more buttons on the wheel than a BlackBerry has keys. McLaren’s steering wheel is all but unchanged and still devoid of switches, knobs, or toggles. Mash the center for the horn. When left in the Comfort powertrain mode and asked for more thrust than the motor can offer, the Artura occasionally pauses before firing the engine, as if to ask, “Do you really want ketchup on your hot dog?” The slow compliance serves as a sort-of eye roll. Sport mode keeps the engine on and is a great midpoint. Same goes for the chassis modes, but in the other direction; Track feels overdamped on anything but glasslike tarmac. Sport-Sport is the hot setup. The Artura uses no regenerative braking, and the brake booster is a vacuum type (albeit powered by an electric pump), so the feel is very familiar. Stops from 70 mph take 141 feet, and from 100 they require 279 feet—good, but not great. McLaren programs the motor to induce a relatively small drag torque and recoup energy from the engine, except when you floor it. You can ask the car to charge itself faster, and Sport and Track modes always keep the battery sufficiently juiced to deliver peak performance. Driver-requested recharging using the engine isn’t very efficient, but it gives owners the ability to manage the state of charge while on the move. VERDICT: McLaren 2.0.About the only thing we don’t love is the new V-6. It goes like hell, but a V-6, even one with an 8200-rpm redline, can’t make the same sounds as a flat-plane-crank V-8. The Artura has an exhaust system that is silent. McLaren calls it a chimney. Radiator fans move air over the turbos in the valley of the V. Look in the rearview and heat waves distort everything behind you. While the chimney never makes a sound, the visual distortion it creates sends a message to the driver that what is ahead is what matters, and what’s ahead are more hybridized supercars. We can’t wait for the next one.CounterpointAll frustrations about getting into the steep gas-station driveway evaporate as I am called “fierce” by a cool teenager and “fabulous” by a grizzled biker in immediate succession. That I can’t exit the vehicle over the massive carbon door sill is unimportant. Who needs to get out of a car when you look so good in it? This is the Artura in a nutshell. Small imperfections are forgotten amid an overall sense of glamour and speed. The move from motor to engine needs tuning, because the car surges at low speed. So stay at high speed—putting the pedal down turns the scenery to ribbons. Go fast, fierce, and fabulous. —Elana ScherrAny bench-racing critics suggesting the Artura is only marginally quicker than a Corvette Z06 are looking at it wrong, akin to saying Usain Bolt wouldn’t be that far ahead of you in a footrace after the first 10 feet. The Artura and the Z06 are in a dead heat to 70 mph, but then it’s all McLaren, which is traveling 9 mph faster at the quarter-mile and gets to 170 mph a massive 8.8 seconds sooner, needing 0.4 mile less runway to do so. To the one pinning the pedal, the difference is breathtaking. —Dave VanderWerpArrow pointing downArrow pointing downSpecificationsSpecifications
2023 McLaren ArturaVehicle Type: mid-engine, mid-motor, rear-wheel-drive, 2-passenger, 2-door coupe
PRICE
Base/As Tested: $237,500/$284,925Options: Volcano Blue paint, $9500; Performance Spec, $9400; Technology package, $7400; Dark Stealth Diamond Cut wheel finish, $7150; sport exhaust, $6850; Black package, $3125; McLaren Orange brake calipers, $2200; Gloss Black interior package, $1600; warning triangle and first-aid kit, $200
POWERTRAIN
Twin-turbocharged and intercooled DOHC 24-valve 3.0-liter V-6, 577 hp, 431 lb-ft + AC motor, 94 hp, 166 lb-ft (combined output: 671 hp, 531 lb-ft; 7.4-kWh lithium-ion battery pack; 3.3-kW onboard charger)Transmission: 8-speed dual-clutch automatic
CHASSIS
Suspension, F/R: control arms/multilinkBrakes, F/R: 15.4-in vented, cross-drilled carbon-ceramic disc/15.0-in vented, cross-drilled carbon-ceramic discTires: Pirelli P Zero Corsa PZC4F: 235/35ZR-19 (91Y) Extra Load MC-CR: 295/35ZR-20 (105Y) Extra Load MC-C
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 103.9 inLength: 178.7 inWidth: 75.3 inHeight: 47.0 inPassenger Volume: 50 ft3Trunk Volume: 5 ft3Curb Weight: 3443 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 2.6 sec100 mph: 5.5 sec130 mph: 8.8 sec1/4-Mile: 10.3 sec @ 140 mph150 mph: 11.8 sec170 mph: 16.1 secResults above omit 1-ft rollout of 0.2 sec.Rolling Start, 5–60 mph: 3.2 secTop Gear, 30–50 mph: 2.0 secTop Gear, 50–70 mph: 2.6 secTop Speed (mfr’s claim): 205 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 141 ftBraking, 100–0 mph: 279 ftRoadholding, 300-ft Skidpad: 1.08 g
C/D FUEL ECONOMY
Observed: 18 MPGe
EPA FUEL ECONOMY
Combined/City/Highway: 18/17/21 mpgCombined Gasoline + Electricity: 39 MPGeEV Range: 11 mi
C/D TESTING EXPLAINEDExecutive EditorK.C. Colwell is Car and Driver’s executive editor, who covers new cars and technology with a keen eye for automotive nonsense and with what he considers to be great car sense, which is a humblebrag. On his first day at C/D in 2004, he was given the keys to a Porsche 911 by someone who didn’t even know if he had a driver’s license. He also is one of the drivers who set fast laps at C/D’s annual Lightning Lap track test. More

From the June 1990 issue of Car and Driver.Everyone needs transportation. But not all of us have the inclination or the wherewithal to shower ourselves with Testarossas or Corvettes or even MR2s. Still, that doesn’t mean we have to forego stylish design or driving pleasure in the interest of practical transport. Quite the contrary. Some of the most competently engineered and slickly sophisticated automotive products on the market live in the economy segment, where hot hatches and spirited sporty two-doors mate great fun and affordable utility. By some reckoning, these are the best auto­motive buys in the world.We jumped into the middle of this live­ly and competitive market to explore the choices available to the enthusiast who needs reasonable transportation but wants an affordable sporty car. Allowing a maximum price per car of $13,000—in­cluding air conditioning and a radio—we brought together every sports-oriented two- and three-door coupe and sedan we could get our hands on. Then we took off on a 900-mile highway/city/back-road jaunt. As expected, that drive taught us a lot about the eleven contestants that met our criteria.Our fleet embodied a number of design and development philosophies, hinted at a wide range of engineering budgets, and represented four nations of origin. We were surprised by some of the cars, impressed by a few, and delighted by a couple. In the end, there emerged a grand total of four cars that we agreed we could enjoy as primary transportation. And a grand total of one earned our pick as the finest under-$13,000 sportster you can buy today. Herewith, in alphabetical order, the eleven cars that paraded out of the park­ing lot of our Ann Arbor headquarters: the Chevrolet Beretta GT, the Chevrolet Cavalier Z24, the Dodge Colt GT, the Geo Storm GSi, the Honda Civic Si, the Honda CRX Si, the Plymouth Sundance RS, the Pontiac LeMans GSE, the Ponti­ac Sunbird GT, the Suzuki Swift GT, and the Volkswagen Wolfsburg Edition GTI. (The all-new Ford Escort GT was not yet available.)Our plan was to head south and east, to the tightly furrowed Ohio foothills near the West Virginia border, which toss two-lane blacktop into marvelously three-dimensional driving venues. All told, our route was usefully varied, com­prising the freeway runs down and back, hard driving on the serpentine roads in southeast Ohio, and a final session of local around-town tiddling and general crystallization of opinion.Almost immediately, the test fleet be­gan to form itself into a couple of clus­ters, based on road manners and general technological approach.Almost immediately, the test fleet be­gan to form itself into a couple of clus­ters, based on road manners and general technological approach. One was Main­stream Domestic, anchored by the home­grown GM products from Chevrolet and Pontiac. Hustled through Ohio’s hills, the Beretta GT, the Cavalier Z24, and the Sunbird GT were able to deliver serious acceleration and grip—thanks to their strong engines and big tires. But they didn’t feel very satisfying in the process, seeming dated at best, crude at worst, de­pending on how hard they were pushed and how nasty the road conditions. The Plymouth Sundance RS was a fringe member of this group, delivering similar acceleration but with better composure. The other major grouping was Main­stream Japanese, where the central play­ers were the Mitsubishi-built Dodge Colt GT and the two Hondas. As the trip pro­gressed, we continued to be impressed by the remarkable finesse, refinement, and smoothness built into these pains­takingly engineered machines. For years, the Honda Civic Si has been the stan­dard-bearer for low-priced refinement (as has the CRX, which is basically just a flashier, two-seat Civic). But the Colt GT proved refined, too, and had amenities such as power-assisted steering.Just off center in this subcategory was the racy, slightly raucous Storm GSi that Isuzu builds for sale through Chevy’s Geo dealers. And out on a far edge was Suzuki’s new Swift GT, which makes some comfort compromises in order to be truly tiny. That left two players that weren’t real­ly similar enough to form a cluster. Both, however, claim a European lineage, which distinguished them from the rest of the fleet: the LeMans GSE is an Opel design that arrives in Pontiac showrooms by way of Korea’s Daewoo assembly lines, and the Volkswagen GTI was the originator of the hot-hatch concept and is still an autobahn terror in Germany. Running south on U.S. 23 and then east on Interstate 70, a pattern emerged that would come into sharper focus as our drive continued. Here, all the cars did just fine, thanks. Each of them—big and small, domestic and imported­—was comfortable enough and capable enough to feel acceptable (even likable) during freeway-cruise duty. But when humming along straight and level, at modest speeds, on smooth surfaces, they all should be good. That’s the least taxing operating mode and the easiest part of engineering an automobile. No matter what, a car must be good on the highway. And these eleven cars are. The GTI has the most civilized ride of the group and the Sunbird the least. Yet each treats its occupants well at 70 mph on the long concrete slab. Even the Suzuki, with its dinky wheelbase, rides well enough—as long as the freeway’s surface quality holds up. The relatively massive Beretta puts its bulk to use in smothering minor road imperfections, but it has a short­coming: ill-shaped seats that let it down in the hour-after-hour ratings. On the other hand, the Volkswagen, both Hondas, the LeMans, and the Colt earned extra credit for the support and comfort of their seating. Sitting behind the wheel for several hundred freeway miles provides a fine opportunity to examine the interior treatment of an automobile.Noise affects long-range habitability, whether it comes from the powertrain, the chassis, the wind, or all three—as it does in the little Suzuki. Engine racket is disappointingly high in the LeMans, and the Storm also emits more than the aver­age amount of buzz from up front. The V-6s in the Chevrolets, however, are no­tably smooth and quiet at cruise. Sitting behind the wheel for several hundred freeway miles provides a fine opportunity to examine the interior treatment of an automobile. The Colt and the two Hondas clearly win this der­by, and with such excellent examples of clean styling and intelligent function sitting right there, we wonder why other carmakers miss the mark. Sadly, it ap­pears our own home team is simply building to the wrong standard. The Sunbird is the most serious offender, with an instrument panel that assaults the eyes with garish forms, neon colors, and oversized switchgear. The Beretta man­ages to look both overstyled and too plain inside, and all the domestics posi­tion the driver deep in the car behind a high cowl. It’s a bit like sitting in a hole. In stunning contrast, the Civic’s low cowl, low beltline, and generous win­dows make the car feel light and lean and open. And from the driver’s seat, the thing looks racy, sporting a short, fall­away hood and sweeping lines (accentu­ated in the CRX by the roof tapering down behind your head to an imperti­nent little ducktail). And the instrument panels in the two Hondas (and to almost the same extent, in the Colt) look clean and businesslike, with legible gauges and logically arrayed buttons, switches, and indicators. These Japanese cockpits work, and there’s no reason for other makers not to copy them. Other highs and lows in the depart­ment of the interior: The GTI’s Teutonic driver’s compartment looks sharp and works well, and the car’s upright, boxy shape provides plenty of rear-seat room; the Swift’s instrument panel has been styled rather than designed, and it incorporates a few too many shapes and textures; the Le­Mans doesn’t feel at all rich inside, and some of the switches are so well integrat­ed into the black-plastic dash you can’t find them; and the Sundance has used re­straint and better material quality to modernize its cabin within the existing architecture. We left the Interstate at New Concord, Ohio (which claims astronaut and sena­tor John Glenn, Jr., as a native son), and set up a base of operations for our backroads research at Coshocton’s Roscoe Village Inn. What followed was an inten­sive investigation of dynamic behavior on thrilling stretches of state routes 83, 60, 26, and 800—and the stark discovery that some of these cars were developed for such serious driving duty, and others clearly were not. The critical test took place on a partic­ular type of curve found all through rural Morgan and Washington counties. Pic­ture narrow two-lane blacktop with a faded center stripe and the shoulders un­paved. It follows tightly rolling terrain in a way that often has it cresting a brow while bending sharply, invisibly, one way or the other. The surface is steeply crowned and heavily patched. All eleven of our affordable sportsters drive their front wheels, which typically makes a car benign—if not always live­ly—in hard cornering, thanks to protective understeer. Yet there was a world of difference in how these various cars managed The Test. The combination of cor­nering load and surface roughness was tough enough; faced with a sudden unweighting of the tires at the top of each blind crest, and maybe a little driving torque from the engine, a couple of these cars become inconsolable. Unfortunately, again, a “Made in America” badge became a warning flag. The Beretta was a handful (not helped by its sheer size), and both the Cavalier and the Sunbird turned wild and woolly; they’d shake, skitter, and lunge spasmod­ically as the suspension and steering tried to find which way was up. All three suf­fered pronounced torque steer—espe­cially the Pontiac, whose heading was easily upset by the radical power delivery of its strongest-of-the-field turbocharged engine. Either General Motors doesn’t consider this kind of driving relevant, or it does too much development work on the smooth, flat surface of its Milford, Michigan, proving grounds.Our impressions settled in during the freeway drone back to Ann Arbor. And during the city-loop testing that followed, we probed and prodded for final details.The Plymouth Sundance RS could also feel untidy over these whoops, but it was generally more composed, and it did a better job of getting its prodigious tur­bo power to the road. Yet the pace setters in the hills were clearly the foreigners, with the composed and beautifully damped GTI shining brightest. The Hondas and the Colt grouped tightly just a whisker back of the VW, all feeling steady and well-mannered despite terri­fying combinations of cornering speed, surface roughness, and unweighting. In turns tight enough to pull road speeds way down, the manual steering of the Civic and the CRX became heavy, while the excellent power-assisted systems in both the Colt and the GTI remained easy and quick. The Geo Storm, also with power steering, felt pleasingly delicate and light to the touch, even if its chassis poise fell fractionally short of the stan­dard set by the leaders.Both the Pontiac LeMans and the Suzuki Swift turned in mixed perfor­mances in southeast Ohio. The LeMans’s German-designed chassis afforded a re­assuring degree of stability and control (though the body rolled a lot in bends), but the ragged-sounding engine detracted from the fun of whipping the car through the twisties. And though the en­thusiastic little Swift squirted around pretty well under the urging of its dimin­utive 1299cc engine, its abbreviated wheelbase gave it a tendency to step out in back—and even threaten to swap ends, if the driver hurtled up to the limit of tire grip and then suddenly chopped the throttle. Our impressions settled in during the freeway drone back to Ann Arbor (by way of the spectacular U.S. Air Force Mu­seum at Wright-Patterson Field in Day­ton). And during the city-loop testing that followed, we probed and prodded for final details: the Sunbird’s engine gives it tremendous on-boost lunge, the Swift’s back seat is nearly inaccessible, the Colt’s driving position is perfect, the LeMans has good seats, the Cavalier’s engine sounds neat, humans can’t sit in the Storm’s back seat, the Beretta has lots of powertrain windup as you get on and off the throttle, the Civic seems huge in­side for its size, the Sundance’s turn-sig­nal/wiper/headlight-beam control stalk feels absolutely Japanese in its crispness and logic, the CRX maneuvers in traffic like Marcus Allen, and the GTI has the most grippable steering wheel in creation. Then the score sheets trickled in, with the all-important Overall Rating num­bers expressing each tester’s sense of the relative merits of these eleven sporting automobiles. Certain names, those of the cars that had floated to the top as we searched for good moves and good feel, stayed at the top. Others languished at the bottom. After living with the cars and examining them the way we did, the results held no surprises. The four most sophisticated and re­fined automobiles of this group finished in a tight group at the top, the Dodge Colt GT taking the win by a slim margin over the Volkswagen GTI (91 points to 90, out of a possible 100). Next came the Honda Civic Si (89 points) and the CRX Si (87 points). Virtually every one of our testers deemed the top four finishers suf­ficiently capable, accommodating, and entertaining to serve as sole transportation for any right-thinking enthusiast. The Colt took top honors by essentially matching the Civic on the functional, er­gonomic, and subjective fronts and then pressing its value advantage (more com­fort and convenience features for less money). The GTI earned its fine finish­ing spot by having the best ride and han­dling, making it the most fun to drive when the road turns playful. A respectable distance back of the lead quartet, the rest of the field spread itself out. In fifth place (79 points) was the Geo Storm GSi, an entertaining, space-shippy coupe with only a few rough edges. Then in sixth, dead center in the pack, came the first of the domestically built cars, the Plymouth Sundance RS (73 points). “Much better than I expected” was the gist of most comments on Chrysler’s coupe. Suzuki’s quirky little Swift GT (72 points) poked into seventh place, its unique dimensions and rock-bottom price ($10,324 as tested) not quite managing to offset its bare-bones feel. Finally, the remaining four automo­biles grouped themselves at the bottom, scored down for falling out of touch with the level of refinement necessary to be considered a legitimate enthusiast’s car today: Chevrolet’s Cavalier Z24 (68 points), followed by a ninth-place tie be­tween the Chevrolet Beretta GT and the Pontiac LeMans GSE (65 points), and the Pontiac Sunbird GT (64 points) bringing up the rear. 11th Place: Pontiac Sunbird GTWhat does it mean when the clear, hit-it-out-of-the-­park acceleration king finishes an embarrassing last in the overall scoring? For one thing, it means that we insist that cars be enjoyable to drive, no matter how quick they are. For another, it means that sheer power and fat tires are poor substitutes for balance, finesse, accuracy, and predictability.Pontiac’s 165-hp Sunbird GT is the only car here that breaks into the sevens in the 0-to-60-mph sprint and into the fifteens in the quarter-mile. It also ties the Geo Storm GSi for the roadholding crown, churning out 0.82 g on the skidpad. So why don’t we love it?HIGHS: Boosted performance.LOWS: Poor chassis manners, boy-racer styling.VERDICT: A lusty, garish old sporty car that likes straight, smooth roads.Because the wheel feels numb, torque steer accompa­nies almost every application of power, and any patched or ripply stretch of pavement completely upsets the chas­sis. Hook through a turn where the road falls away at the apex and the Sunbird shakes its head, spins its inside front tire, and takes several swings to decide what direc­tion it’s going to head. Driving this car fast is work.In addition, the Sunbird suffers from pogoing ride mo­tions, poor low-rpm throttle response, and a generally disappointing interior. At least the car’s appearance is in step with its performance: The overdone plastic add-ons are anything but subtle, and the busy instrument panel implies that you need something to distract you from the car’s road manners.The J-car is an old platform now, and the more mod­em competitors in this group never let you forget that.1990 Pontiac Sunbird GT165-hp turbocharged inline-4, 5-speed manual, 2728 lbBase/as-tested price: $12,149/$12,889C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 7.7 sec1/4 mile: 15.9 sec @ 87 mph100 mph: 23.8 secBraking, 70­–0 mph: 199 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.82 gC/D observed fuel economy: 25 mpg9th Place (tie): Pontiac LeMansA lot of us wanted badly to like the Le Mans, but it re­buffed our advances time and again. The concept makes sense: design and develop the pieces in Germany, where people know about high-speed handling, then go build them in South Korea, where people know about cheap manufacture. Unfortunately, the cheapness makes a stronger impression than the handling, leaving us with the sense that another good idea has been gut-shot by the cost accountants.HIGHS: Good seats, fine chassis, utility.LOWS: Engine racket, perceived lack of quality.VERDICT: A multicultural experience that has lost much in translation from the bahn-burner original.Tinny-feeling doors with cheap-looking trim panels make for a poor first impression, and the plastic dash doesn’t improve anything. Actually, once underway the LeMans does some things well: The chassis is benign, compliant, and well-damped in hard cornering, the steer­ing is smooth and accurate, and the seats hold their occu­pants comfortably and securely. But a driver just can’t work up much enthusiasm for spirited running. The 96-hp Australian-built engine is loud, rough, slow to rev, and generally happy only at low rpm (unlike the German twin-cam unit that Opel puts in its version). And the vague shift linkage doesn’t welcome your hand.True, the unique humpback styling—which some staffers like—does provide lots of headroom and a fairly large cargo hold. And the $11,551 price of the Le Mans, the second-lowest in the test, makes it worth considering as cheap transportation. But it shouldn’t feel cheap­ especially when other cars, ones only slightly more cost­ly, manage to feel vastly richer.1990 Pontiac LeMans GSE96-hp inline-4, 5-speed manual, 2364 lbBase/as-tested price: $10,764/$11,551C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 10.8 sec1/4 mile: 17.8 sec @ 76 mph100 mph: 60.6 secBraking, 70­–0 mph: 202 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.76 gC/D observed fuel economy: 28 mpg9th Place (tie): Chevrolet Beretta GTAlmost everyone likes the way Chevy’s lean and clean Beretta looks; unfortunately, it doesn’t drive very lean or clean unless you’re just tooling down the highway. We have no complaints about the V-6 engine, stroked from 2.8 liters to 3.1 for 1990 and developing 135 hp. And as the biggest car in this test (2815 pounds and a 103.4-inch wheelbase), the Beretta not surprisingly takes up more road than some of the more nimble runners. But the subjective sensations the car gives can’t all be attributed to its size. The suspension goes sloppy on nasty roads, ready torque steer kicks in on rough surfaces, and throttle movements can create lots of cradle rock as the powertrain shifts on its flexible mountings. Despite good test-track numbers, the Beretta is a low-excitement, low­-stress, low-aspirations car.HIGHS: Shapely sheetmetal, V-6 engine, good free­way ride.LOWS: Poor seats and interior layout, disappoint­ing back-road handling.VERDICT: A biggish sportster that doesn’t take to being pressed.Our $12,925 GT model also drew criticism for seats that don’t fit and an interior layout that doesn’t quite work. The styling inside seems forced, and simple logic does not always take your hand to the switch you want.And yet, even if the Beretta doesn’t compete with much success in this crowd, it must get credit for making the cut at all. This is a big car and a pretty roomy car, and it still comes in under the $13,000 limit. For many peo­ple, that—and the undeniably attractive exterior shape­—will offset the car’s deficient interior and lack of rough­-road poise.1990 Chevrolet Beretta GT135-hp V-6, 5-speed manual, 2815 lbBase/as-tested price: $12,500/$12,925C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 8.5 sec1/4 mile: 16.3 sec @ 83 mph100 mph: 27.5 secBraking, 70­–0 mph: 200 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.80 gC/D observed fuel economy: 21 mpg8th Place: Chevrolet Cavalier Z24The J-cars felt springy and unsteady when they were introduced in 1981, and though they have been dramati­cally upgraded since then, our expectations have in­creased as well. Viewed critically as a performance car, the Z24 seems well past its prime—if it ever really had one. And why not? No other car in this test (except the Sunbird—the Cavalier’s sister car) showed up on a plat­form that is in its ninth year of production.Still, in what seems to be the style of cars developed on the billiard-table pavement of the Milford proving grounds, the Cavalier Z24 plants its big tires resolutely as long as you don’t fling it around too quickly on challeng­ing roads. Certainly, the engine does its part. The new 3.1-liter V-6 is tuned to deliver a bit more power (140 hp) than it does in the Beretta, and it moves the 2738-pound Z24 with authority—and with a stirring six-cylinder snarl. Partly because of the smooth power delivery of the en­gine, the Z24 upsets its chassis much less under throttle than does the turbocharged Sunbird.HIGHS: Growling V-6.LOWS: Unrefined chassis, disappointing amount of space for the car’s size.VERDICT: A pleasant enough sporty two-door, but don’t ask too much of it.Compared with its Pontiac sibling, the Z24 is also re­strained aesthetically. The cars share many sheetmetal panels, but the plastic dress-up add-ons on the Cavalier leave it looking clean and handsome by comparison. For $12,830, the Z24 gives you a pleasing automobile for lunging around town (it recorded the second-fastest 0-­to-60-mph time), but you can’t expect too much from such an old warrior.1990 Chevrolet Cavalier Z24140-hp V-6, 5-speed manual, 2738 lbBase/as-tested price: $11,505/$12,830C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 8.4 sec1/4 mile: 16.4 sec @ 83 mph100 mph: 26.6 secBraking, 70­–0 mph: 195 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.79 gC/D observed fuel economy: 22 mpg7th Place: Suzuki Swift GTHere’s a curious little runner, a zippy motorized skate­board, sort of a refugee from the Japanese microcar wars. We tried to take it seriously, but the Swift’s sheer small­ness made it seem like something less than a real automobile.HIGHS: Tiny package, go-kart feel.LOWS: Noise, vibration, harshness.VERDICT: A nimble little scooter, best used close to home.Of course, at just $10,324 fully equipped, the Swift doesn’t charge you like a real automobile does. And there’s no denying that the car’s diminutive scale has ap­peal. Around town, it nips through traffic and hooks around street comers with great élan. It slips into tiny parking spaces. It even cruises acceptably—unless the road surface is bad. Expansion strips on concrete free­ways are the worst. The short-wheelbase Suzuki hobby­horses over these rhythmic disturbances and sets your guts a-bouncing.The little sixteen-valve, 1.3-liter engine makes an even 100 hp and responds to a right foot as eagerly and imme­diately as some other Suzuki fours respond to a right wrist. And because the car weighs only 1852 pounds (the only car in this group under a ton), the powerplant can generate respectable acceleration. But it makes a racket doing so.Inside, there is evidence of underdevelopment. The dash looks busier and more cluttered than necessary, and only a contortionist can make it into the back seat (though regular people can actually sit back there). The Suzuki makes some sense as an urban guerrilla; it just doesn’t seem grown up yet.1990 Suzuki Swift GT100-hp inline-4, 5-speed manual, 1852 lbBase/as-tested price: $9399/$10,324C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 8.7 sec1/4 mile: 16.6 sec @ 83 mph100 mph: 36.3 secBraking, 70­–0 mph: 192 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.76 gC/D observed fuel economy: 32 mpg6th Place: Plymouth Sundance RSThis may seem like a backhanded compliment, but everyone was surprised by how well the Sundance worked—and how much it has been improved. The basic recipe is that of a modest-aspiration Detroit sedan: high cowl and beltline, strong but coarse powerplant, a chassis intended to be cheap to build, and buyer appeal rooted more in perceived durability than graceful road moves. But within the obvious limitations of these origins, Chrysler engineers have coaxed and cajoled the Sundance down a pathway toward refinement and have given the car respectable capabilities.With 150 turbocharged horses available to propel its 2765 pounds, the Sundance RS works up speed prompt­ly. And it sails down the Interstate, riding well and track­ing true. Even its back-road manner is fair, with decent grip and good maneuverability.HIGHS: Power, revised interior.LOWS: Quick steering, lack of emotional appeal.VERDICT: An unpromising design that has been pushed and shoved toward reasonable levels of refine­ment and performance.Unfortunately, the Sundance doesn’t have a sporting line on its body. Without the purposeful wheels and tires to provide some flair, it would look every bit the anony­mous econobox.At least the interior is now a much better place to work—most of the plastic chrome, gaudy materials, and clumsy switches have been axed. In fact, the Sundance’s steering wheel, with a soft-grip surface and an airbag housed in the hub, is itself a completely modern piece. The rest of the car may not measure up yet, but at least it’s on the way.1990 Plymouth Sundance RS150-hp turbocharged inline-4, 5-speed manual, 2765 lbBase/as-tested price: $12,529/$12,969C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 8.5 sec1/4 mile: 16.4 sec @ 83 mph100 mph: 26.2 secBraking, 70­–0 mph: 205 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.77 gC/D observed fuel economy: 23 mpg5th Place: Geo Storm GSiThe high-sport model in Chevrolet’s import lineup, the Isuzu-built Storm makes strong impressions and po­larizes opinion. The shapes and forms, both inside and out, are original and strong, with a theme that people variously characterize as aircraftlike, space-capsulish, modernoidal, or just too much. Especially with the added rear spoiler and rocker-sill extensions that come with the GSi package, the car’s style looks a little too tacked on. And the window treatment in the rear quarter area seems unnecessarily fussy. But the dead-on views both front and rear show pretty good “faces,” and, in any case, no one can accuse the Storm of being inconspicuous.HIGHS: Rev-forever engine, radical styling.LOWS: Noisy engine, radical styling.VERDICT: A zippy-handling sports runabout from the planet Zarkon.Dynamically, the 130-hp coupe acquits itself pretty well. Among the eleven cars in this test, it ties for third in 0-to-60-mph acceleration and in top speed, and it ties for first in roadholding (most drivers enjoyed its secure twirling-road manners). Power steering and low-effort shifting and pedal action give the Storm a light, nimble feel. The driving position and the comfortable seats also earned high praise.Less popular was the amount of noise the engine makes when working hard. And anyone who actually ex­pects to climb into the Storm’s back seat should note how the roof section thickens to accommodate the hatch hinges—right where a rear-seat passenger would like to put their head.We look forward to Isuzu’s own version, the new Im­pulse, with four-wheel drive and Lotus Elan-spec power.1990 Geo Storm GSi130-hp inline-4, 5-speed manual, 2438 lbBase/as-tested price: $11,650/$12,825C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 8.5 sec1/4 mile: 16.6 sec @ 82 mph100 mph: 29.9 secBraking, 70­–0 mph: 193 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.82 gC/D observed fuel economy: 27 mpg4th Place: Honda CRX SiMost everything that can be said about the Civic—it’s refined, it’s sophisticated, it’s well engineered, it’s fun to drive—also applies to the CRX Si. The big difference: On the CRX, a 7.8-inch chunk has been lifted out of the wheelbase, with the cockpit tightened up behind the two seats that remain.The change is more than just dimensional. It creates an entirely different kind of automobile, for better or for worse—one with a completely different mission profile. If the Civic Si is one of the most practical members of our group, the CRX Si most assuredly defines the dedicated-­sportster end of the spectrum. On the other hand, the CRX is extremely economical, and it does have excellent luggage space. And at less than $13,000 ($12,846, to be precise), it unquestionably qualified for inclusion in our sportster review.HIGHS: A Civic cloaked in sexy running togs.LOWS: Passenger space your life has to fit.VERDICT: Tremendous sporting appeal for those whose needs match the limited accommodations.In certain conditions, the longer-wheelbase Civic may have a marginal edge in stability over its sawed-off sibling, but overall the CRX puts its closer-coupled pro­portions to good use. Nimble, lively, and responsive, it is an expert at darting in and out of traffic or hooking through fast sweeping bends. And it’s a surprisingly proficient all­-day freeway cruiser. The wisdom of its formula is evident in its performance: The Honda CRX Si has the highest top speed and ties with the Swift for the highest observed fuel economy of the group.You just have to decide if everything—or, actually, ev­eryone—you need to transport will fit inside.1990 Honda CRX Si108-hp inline-4, 5-speed manual, 2229 lbBase/as-tested price: $11,130/$12,846C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 9.3 sec1/4 mile: 16.9 sec @ 81 mph100 mph: 30.9 secBraking, 70­–0 mph: 177 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.79 gC/D observed fuel economy: 32 mpg3rd Place: Honda Civic SiSome of us in the auto-critic business have commented on the matter of cars as personal statements with a re­mark such as, “Hey, if it was only about transportation, we’d all be driving Honda Civics.” Which is to say, the Civic is, in most critical ways, the archetype for sensible, reasonable personal transport. It is economical and reli­able and roomy, sure, but so are other cheap cars. Unlike them, however, the basic Honda bespeaks engineering competence. And that feels good. You find it in the smooth, free-revving character of the 108-hp engine, the perfect action of even the most minor switch, the hand­somely drawn lines, and the exemplary build quality.HIGHS: Inspired design, impeccable engineering, re­markable refinement.LOWS: Heavy low-speed steering.VERDICT: Perfectly conceived for its task, with so­phistication that shames cars at every price level.But Honda is a company that made its name in motor­cycles, remember, so it understands the concept of driv­ing fun. And that may be the real magic of the Civic. For all its solid virtues, it’s a kick to drive. That makes our test Si one of the best $11,966 purchases anyone—en­thusiast or not—could contemplate.In this test’s final tallying, the Civic was just edged out by the Colt GT’s perceived value (light-touch power steering and other amenities for a little less money) and by the GTI’s unbeatable combination of back-road prow­ess and peerless utility. Still, the Civic’s trip log bursts with praise for its direct, positive feel and the quality evi­dent in every aspect of its execution.If your rich uncle insists you show some savvy to earn your inheritance, buy a Civic Si. You’ll all be happy.1990 Honda Civic Si108-hp inline-4, 5-speed manual, 2210 lbBase/as-tested price: $10,245/$11,966C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 8.5 sec1/4 mile: 16.5 sec @ 81 mph100 mph: 30.5 secBraking, 70­–0 mph: 183 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.78 gC/D observed fuel economy: 28 mpg2nd Place: Volkswagen GTIVolkswagen has revamped its model line to include two GTis. One sports an eight-valve engine, simple trim, and a base price under $10,000; the other (coming soon) will have its sixteen-valve engine stretched from 1.8 to 2.0 liters and will wear everything from fender flares to Recaro seats. We’re talking about the 105-hp eight-­valver here, designated the Wolfsburg Edition, which rang up a total of $12,040 including the sunroof, power steering, and air-conditioning options.The GTI is not particularly outstanding in any individ­ual performance category, but we all raved about it. Why? Because its chassis is so expertly sorted for fast running and its cockpit so well set up for the business of driving that you find yourself being caught up in the fun.HIGHS: German ride quality and handling, huge interior.LOWS: Boxy styling, balky shifter.VERDICT: A true driver’s car—one that just hap­pens to be affordable and practical.Moreover, the GTI is extremely practical. It has the roomiest rear seat in the group. And despite its taut road manners, the GTI enjoys the best ride of the bunch.In many ways, the GTI is a dated commodity. Some drivers are bothered by the too-vertical windshield and the unfashionably high cowl. But those concerns disap­pear after the first fast turns, when the GTI demonstrates the qualities that set it apart from the field. Even droning down the Interstate, the damping and the chassis isola­tion of the VW—communicative but still comfortable­—tell you the autobahn influence is alive and well.”Fahrvergnügen” may be a clumsy ad line, but it’s a thor­oughly viable concept.1990 Volkswagen GTI105-hp inline-4, 5-speed manual, 2377 lbBase/as-tested price: $9995/$12,040C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 10.2 sec1/4 mile: 17.5 sec @ 78 mph100 mph: 43.0 secBraking, 70­–0 mph: 184 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.78 gC/D observed fuel economy: 29 mpg1st Place: Dodge Colt GTHIGHS: Comfort, refinement, utility, enthusiasm for the road.LOWS: Overstyled body, maybe.VERDICT: Amazing smoothness and richness for the money, a delight to drive.Here is our winner, and we can’t praise it highly enough. In almost any category you can name—build quality, handling, comfort, value—the Mitsubishi-made Colt GT scores at or near the top of this heap. Although the Colt trails much of the group in straight-line perfor­mance, its engine revs willingly and seamlessly, and its shifter stirs smoothly. And the Colt’s decisively superior slalom prowess, excellent braking, and respectable skidpad grip translate into the sort of responsive, fluid handling that serious drivers appreciate. Try it once through a series of challenging corners and you’ll be convinced.For $12,150, the Colt GT delivers first-order driving pleasure. And it is so clean, modern, and tidy in its design and execution that we just like being near it. Its back­road poise is impressive, its 123-hp engine responsive, its controls light to the touch yet positive, its interior roomy and useful, its list of amenities pleasingly long. More than any car in this review, the Colt looks and feels richer than its price. And how many products can you say that about today?The body configuration mirrors the Civic’s mini­-bread-van shape and provides similarly generous space inside. The Colt’s sheetmetal may lack the Honda’s crisp­ness and grace, but even then the Dodge has something special to offer: Our test car sported the brightest, most brilliant yellow paint you’ve ever seen.1990 Dodge Colt GT123-hp inline-4, 5-speed manual, 2556 lbBase/as-tested price: $9121/$12,150C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 10.1 sec1/4 mile: 17.4 sec @ 79 mph100 mph: 36.5 secBraking, 70­–0 mph: 188 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.78 gC/D observed fuel economy: 28 mpg More

From the January 1980 issue of Car and Driver.Hi there, this is us in our automotive zoot suit. The one with the whitewall spats and the padded shoulders. For our formal informal photography ses­sion, we’ve slipped into our silver threads, but the outfit we’ve spent most of our time in has red pants and an off­white jacket. If you’re not right off fond of its cut, you’ll find it grows on you. Maybe it will even change your person­ality. It will certainly change what every­one else thinks of you. Your Volkswag­en dealer is offering you the chance to become instantly in. And, somewhat less obviously, very clever.These German cars are almost proving an embarrassment to us. They’re getting too good. When we say so, it gets us a mountain of mail complaining we’ve sold out our objectivity and our credibility, and in turn probably gained grotesquely swollen bank accounts. No such luck. But there’s no way around it, the Rabbit convertible will once again bring the postlady to her knees with hate mail. She will come to loathe this car for the burden it will bring her, but she will be all alone. Volkswagen has everyone else in the bag and loving it. It’s happened before. Last time we tested a VW convertible, it was the time-honored and dearly be­loved Beetle version. More peculiar­-looking cars existed only in the minds of drug-addicted individuals and in deep­est France. If there was a more universal love in the world of automobiles, we don’t know of it. Leering perversity was loose in the world in the form of the Beetle convertible. David E. Davis, Jr., said it was a compelling argument that automotive progress isn’t everything. Patrick Bedard admitted he was in­trigued by a car shaped like molded Jell-O when everything else looked like a block of cheese. Don Sherman called it the fastest four-place lawn chair he knew of. Volkswagen sold more than a quarter of a million of its lawn chairs, and somewhere people are sitting in them today, taking the sun. When the Beetle convertible disappeared recently, the demand clamored on. More Classic VolkswagensVolkswagen boxed up the demand and wheeled it off to the Karmann coachworks along with a bundle of Rab­bit mechanicals. Karmann, of course, was the birthplace of the sleek-lined Ghia of yore and the aforementioned topless Beetle. With such VW experi­ence at hand, it didn’t take VW long to pull an open-air Rabbit from Karmann’s magic hat, and the car is a dandy me­chanical entity. It makes you want to play ticker-tape parade, a national hero waving, standing behind you with fore­arm on roll bar, surrounded by the Thirties bulges of the folded top, get­ting the ride of his life in one of the neatest of all little cars. Like the Beetle, the Rabbit convert­ible disregards fashion to start one of its own. It’s cute with the top up, and what might be described as . . . interesting with the top down. There’s not much visual question that the convertible was an existing car whose top was carved off. The rear fenders are kicked up a lit­tle now, and perched atop them is the mechanism for the top. When the top’s down, it’s down only in the sense of be­ing collapsed, because it still sticks way up, a huge reading pillow with armrests, and a blocker of rear vision. Beneath the folded top is a handy, if shrouded, trunklet that opens to the rear. The back seat folds forward for greater car­rying capacity. The remainder of the body is unmistakably Rabbit, its lines otherwise undiluted except for the up­right roll bar that provides rollover pro­tection and strengthens the unit-body structure. The bar is padded and trimmed in black, matching the dash and add-on door trim. The top fits exceptionally well. The outside will never creep in uninvited. Inner and outer layers sandwich smooth, substantial padding that pro­vides weather and sound insulation. The inside of the top is finished like that of a snug sedan, and the back window is real live glass embedded with real live defogging wires. Hot stuff! The two roof-mounted release handles at the sides of the windshield are the only hardware visible. Aaron Kiley|Car and DriverNow that’s just terrific, having an open-air Rabbit and all, but it gets bet­ter. We expect Rabbits to be congenital­ly nice, but the convertible transcends niceness. Extra sound deadening seems to have been poured wholesale into the engine compartment, and the first crank of the engine hints of the refinement to come. Everything about the physical behavior of the car says effortless. It is strong, blithely willing, and very eco­nomical. It will return 25 mpg in city driving and quietly requests 90-mph cruising. With less than 500 miles on its optimistic odometer, our convertible ran 0 to 60 mph in 12.8 seconds; more break-in miles will probably get the job done quicker. VW’s smooth five-speed overdrive aids and abets the engine with well-staged gearing and feather-light linkage so slick that it defies the rest of the industry. Hooked to perhaps the smoothest and quietest four in memory, it sets a lofty standard. We are told our car came straight off the boat into dealer and press intros, where we laid claim to it. There was no pre-delivery prep other than a wash job. Even so, the only physical faults we could find were of the easy-fix variety: a nonfunctioning fuel-injection cold-start connection (which could be handily overcome even in snowy weather by a solid tromp on the gas pedal); a slight rattle in the exhaust caused by a loose hanger; an optional sport steering wheel rotated one notch too far to the right; and a missing inside rearview mirror. With a pre-delivery service un­der the car’s belt, we’d have found nothing physical to complain about ex­cept a brake-locking problem at the right rear, which added at least 20 feet to our last sedan Rabbit’s 203-foot 70-to-0-mph stopping distance. Short of that point of lockup, the brakes have been improved by virtue of better feel and more reassuring pedal action than VWs have ever had. A quick service of the rear brakes should eliminate our problem, and it’s not likely to show up in other cars.The Rabbit convertible’s over-the-­road controls function with such well-­oiled directness and consistency, you’d swear you have $20,000 worth of ma­chinery at your beck and call. The con­vertible’s inner masses and individual pieces are surpassingly well coordinated, furnishing the driver with a smooth and stable platform, free of unnecessary harshness, from which to direct the flank-speed passage of a most amusing world. The pop-top’s center of gravity feels considerably lower than an every­day Rabbit’s. Less body roll, dive, and squat interfere with the sensations of rapid progress through the countryside. The suspension and steering are ideally compromised, resulting in outstanding and soft-spoken control. Slight under­steer stabilizes the car, which can turn into corners with surprising ferocity if you suggest it. The car seems capable of more than you could ever reasonably ask, and certainly more delightful than almost any traditional roadster you might put it against. The world will soon be awash with a lemming-run of roadster owners bending their dealers’ ears in search of handling fixes to rectify the dirt done them by Rabbit convertibles. It could happen on any kind of road that changes direction often. Smooth, coarse, or downright cratered, it makes little difference to the Rabbit convert­ible. The Continental TS771s are flex­ible enough to complement the bump­-adaptive front-wheel-drive layout of the Rabbit, yet they allow you simply to fly into corners, track around, and feed im­peccably out the other side. Transitions are smooth, wheel movements small, and the steering among the very best. Place the car exactly where you want it. The light, microscopically correctable steering draws apexes in with a free­wheeling but irresistible magnetism, to brush flawlessly beneath the inside tires. Those apexes pass by, but the art of their passage lingers along. Aaron Kiley|Car and DriverThe optional sport seats (not shown) are responsible, in large part, for the driver’s ability to make use of all this excellence. They are deeply bucketed and comfortably bolstered, and they sit solidly among the top three or four fac­tory-available seats in the world. Mount­ed high off the floor, the angled thigh cushion shores you up for relaxed con­trol, and for comfort that carries you from an early start to well beyond the twilight zone. The back seat offers its lap even to adults, and even though the rear side windows don’t roll all the way down, they do fend off the stronger gusts of high-speed turbulence that threaten havoc with anything but kinky perms. There is no discounting the value of this happy little car. It betters some pretty pricey competition both in its physical functions and in the results it gives in comfort and satisfaction. And its operating economy is up there with the best. The changes wrought by Kar­mann take the Rabbit convertible way far out of the econobox price range, but Volkswagen hasn’t concerned itself with that. Instead, it’s concentrated on build­ing a dynamite mini funster that does more things well than most product planners could write on a large piece of paper, let alone blend into something that goes down the road with this car’s grace. The Rabbit convertible sparkles with a good humor not one car in a hun­dred has.Arrow pointing downArrow pointing downSpecificationsSpecifications
1980 Volkswagen Rabbit L convertibleVehicle Type: front-engine, front-wheel-drive, 4-passenger, 2-door convertible
PRICE
Base/As Tested: $8895/$9105Options: sport seats, $165; sport steering wheel, $45
ENGINESOHC inline-4, iron block and aluminum headDisplacement: 97 in3, 1588 cm3Power: 76 hp @ 5500 rpmTorque: 83 lb-ft @ 3200 rpm 
TRANSMISSION5-speed automatic
CHASSIS
Suspension, F/R: struts/trailing armBrakes, F/R: 9.4-in vented disc/7.1-in drumTires: Continental TS771175/70SR-13
DIMENSIONS
Wheelbase: 94.4 inLength: 155.3 inWidth: 63.4 inHeight: 55.6 inCurb Weight: 2170 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS
60 mph: 12.8 sec1/4-Mile: 18.8 sec @ 71 mph90 mph: 52.8 secBraking, 70–0 mph: 223 ft
EPA FUEL ECONOMYCombined: 25 mpg 
C/D TESTING EXPLAINED More