It’s been nearly 10 years since Mazda unveiled the fourth, “ND” generation MX-5 Miata, continuing an exceptional sports car tradition. So enjoyable is Mazda’s two-seater, in fact, that I bought a 2020 Miata RF ND2. (In Zoom-Zoom nerd circles, 2019–23 cars are called “ND2”, referring to the second iteration of the ND generation.) It remains my daily driver. With a revised Miata now out for the 2024 model year, I was keen to sample the ND3’s host of tweaks and upgrades.

Part of the Miata’s appeal these days is that it has no direct competitor. Its closest rival—the Subaru BRZ/Toyota GR86—has rear seats and no available sunroof. Lotus does not even make a sub-3000-pound car anymore, yet 2300-pound Miatas are still out there roaming the roads.

Although a decade is an eternity in the car business, the Miata still looks and drives like nothing else in showrooms today. It’s agile, tossable, and friendly. For the ND3, Mazda thankfully didn’t mess with success. Small but significant improvements are focused on appreciable areas: the steering rack, differential, and interior. In sum, they make an already great car a little bit better. Rumors are swirling that the next-generation Miata will be either hybrid or electric, which, if true, would render this ND3 the final with Mazda’s 35-year-old formula: a lightweight open-top machine with a naturally aspirated four-cylinder, rear-wheel-drive, and a manual transmission.

The Miata’s last major update came five years ago for the 2019 ND2, when Mazda massaged the 2.0-liter, twin-cam four-cylinder (largely shared with the Mazda 3) to make 181 horsepower (instead of 155 in the 2016-18 “ND1”) and wind the tach up to 7500 rpm (instead of 6800), while also revising the six-speed manual gearbox. In the new-for-2024 ND3, both the drivetrain and overall weight are carryover.

The 2024 Miata is still available in two basic body styles and three basic trim levels, but prices are up slightly. MSRP for the cheapest soft top “Sport” model is $30,170—nearly a grand more than the 2023 version. The retractable hardtop RF body style is not available in Sport trim. The mid-range “Club” soft top (the ND3 I drove) costs $33,670 to start. Our test car also had the optional Brembo brakes/BBS wheels/Recaro seat package, which adds $4800 to the soft-top Club but comes baked into the $41,395 Club RF. The slightly more luxurious “Grand Touring” trim costs $36,390 in soft-top form and $39,165 in RF form. The Brembo/BBS/Recaro trio is only available on the Club, which is a shame if you want a dead-simple Sport or a cushy Gran Touring with a performance punch.

Specs: 2024 Mazda Miata Club

• Price: $33,670 (base); $38,470 (as tested)
• Powertrain: 2.0-liter fuel-injected, naturally aspirated, dual-overhead-camshaft inline-four; 6-speed manual transmission
• Output: 181 hp @ 7000 rpm; 151 lb-ft @ 4000 rpm
• Layout: Rear-wheel-drive, two-door, two-passenger convertible
• EPA Fuel Economy: 26 mpg city, 34 mpg highway, 34 combined
• Competitors: Subaru BRZ, Toyota GR86

One of the chief complaints ever since the ND first came out, compared with the fun and flamboyant NA lineup from the ’90s, is that Mazda’s color palette is as bland as a bowl of sawdust. Other than Soul Red, it’s been mostly some version of black, white, or gray for the ND. If you’ve been praying for a handsome British Racing Green or a nice bright blue, keep praying, because Mazda has ignored you yet again. There is a new shade for 2024 but it’s… another shade of gray. Aero Gray, to be specific. Our test car was at least painted Zircon Sand Metallic, a shade added to the roster last year (and featured in our Gas + Stick article); it’s a sharp-looking, sort of muddy sand color with some green in it. Nice, but still somewhat muted for a very happy sports car.

Other changes to the exterior of the 2024 ND3 include new LED headlights and taillights. The daytime running lights, which used to flank the grille, are now integrated into the headlights. There are also new wheel designs and they look good, but so did the old ones. They’re also of the same size and ride on the same Bridgestone tires.

The interior wears the same basic design, laid atop a clean, functional, tight-ish cabin. Mazda uses its share of mass-market plastics and knobs, as well as cheap-feeling removable cupholders, but in concert with the brand’s premium aspirations there are some nicer touches: body-color paint on the tops of the door panels, padding and stitching in the middle of the dash, and chromed gauge bezels. The trim running around the shifter and down the sides of the console used to be plastic, but now it’s stitched and padded. The gauge cluster (tach in middle, speedo on right, analog-style digital readout on left) stays essentially the same but now uses higher contrast graphics that are easier to read, and the rear-view camera benefits from higher resolution. USB-C ports also replace the old USB ones.

By far the most notable interior change, though, concerns the infotainment screen. In the ND1-ND2 the interface was good enough, but the square screen looked like an overgrown, circa-2008 Garmin GPS glued to the top of the dash. The ND3 remedies that with an all-new 8.8-inch rectangular display that’s lower, thinner, better integrated into the dash, and much nicer to read. It’s still operated via touch, with some controls available on the steering wheel or on two small metal knobs behind the shifter.

Mechanically, the two major changes for the ND3 affect steering feel and how the rear end navigates corners. The steering rack is a new unit and the software in the electronically assisted power steering has been revised for both smoother steering and sharper response. At the back, Mazda redesigned the Miata’s conical clutch limited-slip differential. It now more strongly locks the rear wheels together on deceleration to combat oversteer and reduces locking during acceleration to mitigate understeer. This makes for more controllable cornering compared to the earlier, more tail-happy cars. The ND3 Club’s stability control system also adds a new “DSC-Track” mode, activated by a fun little checkered flag button, that raises the threshold of when the system intervenes, without shutting it off entirely. Only the Club model gets DSC-Track.

Entering, or rather fitting into, this car has never been comfortable for everybody. I’m 6’2” and fit alright, but if you’re within a haircut of 6 feet, haven’t had a salad in a while, and/or are more leg than torso, it’s a good idea to try before you buy. Getting in with a helmet (and remaining underneath the top of the windshield) is an additional challenge for the vertically blessed, although there are aftermarket seat options as well as kits to lower the factory chairs. As for the Recaros in our test car, they’re beautiful. With black leather, gray piping, and Alcantara inserts, they look like they’re out of a much more expensive automobile. They’re well-bolstered for track driving as well, but a little tight beneath the shoulders and around the hips of this driver.

There’s no glovebox in an MX-5—just a small cubby between the seats and another, secret cubby behind the passenger’s seat. The storage bin in the console is of limited use. The narrow but surprisingly deep trunk (no spare tire), meanwhile, has enough room for a two-person weekend getaway or a week’s worth of groceries.

On the nice days for which this roadster is intended, operating the soft top is a simple pull on a single central clip, pulling it back behind you, and clicking it in to stow behind the seats. It can all be done in a few seconds from the driver’s seat.

For the not-so-nice days, like the “derecho” storm that slammed Houston in May 2024 with 100-mph winds and three tornadoes, the soft top is reassuringly stout. I briefly got caught out on the road in the derecho, and despite wind and rain that can only be described as biblical, the soft top held tight as a drum. No flapping around, no leaks, and surprisingly little noise. Apart from an actual crash, it would hard to think up a much tougher test for a top, so this one passed.

Jumping straight from the driver’s seat of an ND2 into the ND3 is not a night and day difference, but it is a noticeable one. Steering feel is indeed sharper, smoother, and a little heavier. The change is noticeable at any speed, not to mention from the instant the steering wheel (which is the perfect size and looks great, by the way) moves from center. The new differential leaves the rear end feeling more planted and firmer through an apex, and although Mazda didn’t say it revised the suspension, we wouldn’t be shocked to hear if there were some small tweaks. The car does feel like it’s flatter through the corners. It’s still somewhat softly sprung and takes a bit to settle into the corner. The signature Miata lean/body roll is still there, but it’s less pronounced. All of these adjustments, including changes to the limited-slip, it should be noted, are really only discernible if you’re hitting a corner at about seven-tenths or above.

The slick-shifting, short-throw six-speed, meanwhile, is one of the best manuals around and there’s nothing to nitpick about it. Our test car also averaged a little over 30 mpg in mixed driving conditions, before a lengthy stretch in heavy traffic dropped it into the high 20s.

And while the car does corner more confidently, it’s still easy enough to get the back end to rotate and then use small inputs to keep things under control. This is still a great sports car in which to learn the basics of car control, as overcooking it doesn’t immediately send you into a spin. The dynamics are also entertaining at real-world, law-adjacent speeds on real-world roads. More fun to drive a slow car fast, and all that.

Indeed, 181 hp and 151 lb-ft isn’t a lot, but this is a tiny car and with the roof open, the 0-60 scoot in 5.7 seconds feels quick enough. For reference, that’s around the same output as a Honda S2000 (more about that car later), and the Mazda’s 2.0-liter four is almost as responsive. It likes to rev, really wakes up above 4000 rpm, and should be kept there for maximum smiles.

The Skyactive 2.0-liter isn’t a weak engine, then, but it sure sounds that way. If there’s any significant complaint one might have from behind the wheel of the ND3—and I only have one biggie—it’s the stock exhaust. It stinks. It’s too quiet. What sound does come out of the muffler is more rental-spec Altima than open-top toy. To be fair, not everybody likes their cars loud, but Mazda should absolutely offer an optional sports exhaust.

There are still small, specialist carmakers out there, but a driver-focused car like the 2024 Miata coming from a full-line automaker remains special. That it even exists in the electrified, increasingly automated new car market is a real treat. The closest thing in 15 years is, well, the last Honda S2000.

Thanks to its great reputation, great looks and jewel of an engine, a used 2000-09 S2K in excellent condition is worth about the same as a Miata in brand-new condition. The temptation to cross-shop is there. They have similar performance, similarly good looks, and similarly fine interiors. The Honda has a much sweeter engine, but the Mazda does most other things just as well or better. For the same price, it’s at least a 15-year newer car and thus comes with all the improvements in safety and convenience that have been made since the 2000s, plus a warranty. It’s the sensible choice.

Now, with the past out of the way, let’s end with the future. The next-gen Miata is slated for 2026. It will likely have a hybrid powertrain. What the whole package looks like and how it will be received by the MX-5’s legions of fans isn’t yet clear. What is clear, however, is that the ND3 is one of those “last of” cars. The Miata formula of basic, naturally aspirated four-banger, driving the rear wheels through a stubby manual ends with this car. Inevitably, snobs will call it the last “real” Miata. Good thing it’s the best one, too.

2024 Mazda MX-5 Miata

Highs: A shape that still looks special, even 10 years later. Lots of little improvements without losing any essential Miata-ness. Still exists in 2024.

Lows: Tight fit for bigger drivers. Quiet exhaust that makes a perfectly good engine sound like a weak one. Color choices remain frustratingly limited. Not much trunk space (duh).

Summary: A noticeable improvement on an already great car, and arguably the best Miata yet. If the next MX-5 is a hybrid, the ND3 also represents the end of a glorious era.

***

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Larger SUVs are rarely designed to appeal to those who enjoy driving. By their nature, the best they can offer is a compromise.

That hasn’t stopped Mazda from trying, though—the company has never been afraid to give their SUVs some of the magic that makes their cars so enjoyable. The brand-new 2025 CX-70 continues that trajectory by offering something that can fight the suburban skirmishes on multiple fronts without losing focus on the commander at the controls. It will ferry the kids to school, and tote your clubs to the club, tow your Miata to the track, but it can also haul its own ass around that one fun corner between the grocery store and your garage to a degree that belies its size.

To find out how Mazda’s latest, and largest two-row SUV performed both around town and on true driver’s roads, we took Mazda up on their offer to explore the CX-70 lineup and test the Turbo S Premium Plus in the searing scenery of Palm Springs, California. 

The CX-70 is part of Mazda’s recent push into a more upscale market. It’s essentially the same machine as the CX-90 (minus the third-row seats) that kicked off that effort last year with the North American debut of Mazda’s new “Large Product Group” platform. What that platform lacks in an evocative name, it makes up for in its driver-focused, rear-wheel-biased all-wheel drive system and turbo inline-six.

There’s a host of modern engineering beneath the CX-70’s skin, but the wrapper itself has become an increasingly critical selling point in this crowded field. The CX-70 looks and feels closer to a status symbol than a sensible choice—especially in the Premium Plus package that fills the CX-70’s guts with aspirational levels of leather and metal. This is a path that previous Mazda SUVs have ventured down, though not as comprehensively.

To that end, while the CX-70 competes against similarly priced vehicles like the Honda Passport and Toyota Highlander, Mazda also wants to snag a few cost-conscious customers away from more luxury-oriented offerings like the BMW X5, Lexus RX, and Jeep Grand Cherokee 4xe (all of which Mazda had on hand for static comparison). Mazda’s long argued that its SUVs provide a more characterful experience than other similarly priced models, but in aiming higher, the company now also makes the case that against these new foes, any gap in capability is narrower than the gap in price.

To cover a broader swath of buyers’ needs, Mazda provides a healthy range of options and pricing within the made-in-Japan CX-70’s seven varieties. For starters, there are PHEV and mild hybrid powertrains. The mild hybrid versions are all powered by Mazda’s e-Skyactiv G 3.3-liter turbocharged inline-six, with two levels of power to pick from: Turbo, and Turbo S. The Turbo models produce 280 hp and 332 lb-ft of torque on 87-octane fuel, and come in three tiers of luxury: Preferred, Premium, and Premium Plus. The cheapest of all seven CX-70s, the Turbo Preferred, starts at $40,445, while the Turbo Premium Plus starts at $48,900. 

For those seeking more shove, the Turbo S models churn out a hearty 340 hp and 369 lb-ft of torque on 91-octane fuel (should you need to use 87 octane in a pinch, you’ll drop down to 319 hp, but retain the same amount of torque). The Turbo S ditches the entry Preferred trim and is only available in either Premium or Premium Plus spec, starting at $52,450 and $55,950, respectively.

Specs: 2025 Mazda CX-70 3.3 Turbo S Premium Plus

• Price: $55,950 (base); $56,545 (as-tested)
• Powertrain: 3.3-liter fuel-injected, turbocharged, dual-overhead-camshaft inline-six with 48V mild hybrid system; 8-speed automatic transmission
• Horsepower: 340 (on 91-octane premium fuel, 319 hp on 87-octane) @ 5000 rpm
• Torque: 369 lb-ft @ 2000 rpm
• Layout: All-wheel-drive, four-door, five-passenger SUV
• Weight: 4863 lbs.
• EPA-rated fuel economy: 25 MPG combined
• Competition: Honda Passport, Jeep Grand Cherokee, Lexus RX

The 48V mild hybrid system is designed to aid low-speed efficiency and the operation of auxiliary functions like air-conditioning, but for customers who want a genuine plug-in hybrid electric vehicle (PHEV), the CX-70 also comes with a powertrain option that combines a 189-hp naturally aspirated 2.5-liter inline-four with a 173-hp, 100-kW electric motor powered by a 17.8-kWh battery pack. The combined product is good for 323 hp and 369 lb-ft of torque on 91 octane. The PHEV version of the CX-70 is available in either Premium or Premium Plus spec, which start at $54,400 and $57,450, respectively. 

The PHEV’s EV-only mode provides a max range of 26 miles according to Mazda, and has an EPA-rated fuel economy of 56 MPGe for gas plus electric; 25 MPG overall gas only. (The mild hybrids return 25 MPG combined.) If you want to tow something, your best bet is the inline-six in Premium or Premium Plus trim—it has a towing capacity of 5,000 lbs compared to the PHEV’s 3,500 lbs.

Finally, every variant of the CX-70 is equipped with the same eight-speed automatic found in the CX-90, which Mazda developed specifically for the Large Product Group platform, and uses a wet clutch mounted at the rear of the transmission rather than a torque converter at the front. Mazda says it’s chosen this somewhat unconventional setup to free up space for both the inline-six’s mild hybrid unit and the PHEV’s larger hybrid system, while reducing rotational inertia across the board. 

Moving on from the on-paper specs to real-world impressions, the CX-70 cuts a handsome figure. It stands out in that it doesn’t try to stand out—the grille isn’t enormous, nor is there any flame-surface try-hard design. Besides the black-and-silver 21-inch wheels, the CX-70 is basically devoid of bling—but it does have enough stylistic gravity to warrant a double take.

The proportions do the aesthetic heavy lifting, and for a vehicle that’s a smidge over 200” long and 68” tall, it looks more like a fattened-up wagon than a slimmed-down SUV. You could almost call it svelte. The body’s dash-to-axle ratio suggests the sportiness of its longitudinal-engine layout, and that, combined with a front overhang that’s much shorter than the rear, gives the CX-70’s silhouette the look of being swept back under the persuasion of acceleration.

The exterior isn’t controversial or stunning; it’s attractive and will continue to look good when you’ve lived with it for a while. Aside from a few flashy color options, the reserved look carries into the interior. If you opt for the Turbo or PHEV in Premium Plus spec, you can get a striking red color for your Nappa leather, but to get the best of what Mazda offers you’ll want the tan diamond-quilted seats, suede accent panels, and two-tone steering wheel in the Turbo S Premium Plus.

Sight isn’t the only sense that Mazda appealed to: Materials felt of excellent quality in the Turbo S Premium Plus, and the contrast between materials (metal inserts, smooth Nappa, and suede) gave the impression of something pricier than a Mazda. The fit and finish was pretty faultless, too, with even stitching lines and tight gaps throughout.

Of course, this is an SUV, and the space behind the front seats matters at least as much as material choices. The rear appointments mirror the front, and the second row folds flat with a touch of a button. (You’ll need to manually flip them back up, however.) The CX-70’s 75 cubic feet of cargo space is class-competitive.

After familiarizing ourselves with the CX-70’s details, we set out, first spending time on full-size freeways, two-lane highways, and stoplight-to-stoplight surface roads with the Turbo S Premium Plus.

Underway, the seating position gives a good sense of where all four corners are located and provides ample headroom even for taller drivers. Overall visibility is adequate, with the only noticeable obstruction coming from the wide D-pillar. The head-up display—standard on all but the Turbo Preferred—is a nice safety feature/creature comfort to have as well. The full suite of information comes via the 12.3” digital cluster, which is accompanied by another 12.3” screen for infotainment located in the center of the dash. 

Said infotainment system is intuitive and simple to operate at a stop or in motion, and from either the steering wheel controls or the center console-mounted navigation wheel. The CX-70 features hands-free infotainment controls via Alexa (a Mazda crossover first) plus wireless connectivity for Apple CarPlay and Android Auto. The 12-speaker Bose sound system in our test vehicle performs adequately but not notably better than other higher-end OEM audio systems, with a soundstage centered around the dash’s mid panel. 

Up front, the seats are comfortable for cruising around town. The adjustable lumbar support on Premium packages and above is a welcome feature, especially on longer freeway stints, and they’re supportive enough to prevent rag-dolling when cornering. If spec’d with the Premium Plus package, the CX-70’s front seats get ventilation in addition to heat (which comes standard for the fronts on all trims; to get rear heat you’ll need to spring for Premium Plus). Hopping in the back for bit, we discovered that the rear seats are comfortable as well, but lacking the support of the fronts. Rear legroom is adequate but maybe a smidge less than you’d expect from the wheelbase.

The six-cylinder in the Turbo S has more than enough power to merge safely onto the freeway or squirt through a yellow light, but a few instances of excessive shifting pop up when manipulating the throttle at lower speeds. Brake feel is excellent, with a reassuring sense that more pressure on the pedal meant more braking force instead of the jarring on-off binary that some new cars offer.

Although the CX-70’s steering ratio isn’t exactly quick and snappy, it is pleasantly linear and perfectly easy to wheel around in a congested parking lot, if a tad heavier than competitors. Combined with a minimal dead zone on center, the Mazda is impressively reactive without feeling twitchy.

The ride is stiffer and more communicative than expected from an SUV that will probably be used around downtown grids more often than backroad esses. It feels perfectly fine for someone who likes driving sports cars, and is consistent with Mazdas like the CX-5 that have proven popular, but could be a bit much for someone cross-shopping a Honda or Toyota (or Lexus). Given the company’s push toward luxury and how well the double-wishbone front end and multilink rear performed in the mountains, Mazda may have missed an opportunity to equip the CX-70 with adaptive dampers for softer in-town manners—that might have captured a broader array of tastes.

Speaking of mountains, the snaking section of Route 74 running high above the Coachella Valley proved the CX-70 to be a capable enough curve-carver. There’s no way to completely hide the Turbo S’ 4863 lbs (the PHEV comes in at 5198 lbs), but it’s composed, consistent, and confidence-inspiring. Driven hard in this environment, the eight-speed shifts when expected, the powerband is ready and willing, and the AWD is surefooted. The various driver aids stay very much in the background.

Two big factors in the CX-70’s composure are the i-Activ AWD system and Mazda’s Kinematic Posture Control (KPC). The i-Activ system sends torque to the corner with the most grip as expected, but there’s also a baked-in consideration for steering input that prioritizes a consistent and smooth power output for the driver. This system complements the KPC tech, which has a similar end goal of consistent, predictable, unadulterated handling. The KPC algorithms work to—as subtly as possible—keep the suspension compression and dive angles as neutral as possible through a corner, which it achieves by minor manipulations of the brakes and differentials. The result we discovered is a vehicle that’s playful for its size, communicative, and competent.

After experiencing the CX-70 across the full range of its natural habitat, it gives every impression of being a solid addition to Mazda’s burgeoning effort to pierce the premium side of the market. It may not compete outright with the X5s of the world, but it doesn’t have to—the Mazda has the BMW beat on price to the point where it just might peel away a few buyers. And compared to its more direct competition, the Mazda is more fun to drive. Not everyone cares if their A-to-B SUV can boogie, but Mazda’s found success with this value-meets-driving-pleasure combination before. We’ll soon see if it works for the CX-70.

2025 Mazda CX-70

Highs: Good-looking inside and out without design gimmicks, fun to drive, solid range of trim levels.

Lows: A little bit stiff around town, not always smooth at low speeds.

Takeaway: Indubitably Mazda. Admirable focus on driving dynamics. Not all things to all people, and that’s ok.

***

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The post First Drive: Mazda’s CX-70 Pitches Driving Fun and Value appeared first on Hagerty Media.

]]> https://www.hagerty.com/media/new-car-reviews/first-drive-mazdas-cx-70-pitches-driving-fun-and-value/feed/ 3 https://www.hagerty.com/media/new-car-reviews/2023-bmw-m8-competition-review-when-too-much-is-just-enough/ https://www.hagerty.com/media/new-car-reviews/2023-bmw-m8-competition-review-when-too-much-is-just-enough/#comments Mon, 29 Apr 2024 16:00:00 GMT https://www.hagerty.com/media/?p=393617

For the 2023 model year, BMW discontinued the standard-issue, 600-hp M8 after three years on the market. That left only the hotter, 617-hp M8 Competition. It’s unclear what percentage of buyers picked the base model over the “Comp,” as the in-crowd says, but I can’t imagine it was high. What customer strolling into their local BMW dealer with $150,000 to plop on the table walks out with the second-most powerful car on the 8 Series roster?

That base car was more like a bait car. Any Porsche salesperson, for instance, knows which of their customers simply want the most expensive, most excessive version of the car they like. (These people never fail to receive dealership Christmas cards.) Think about it: maybe you’ve seen a few new-ish Cayenne or 911 Turbo S examples in the wild … but have you ever seen a regular Turbo? I’m neither Kahneman nor Tversky, but I’d wager the mere existence of the latter psychologically bolsters the desirability of the former.

Most BMW buyers would be plenty satisfied with the silky straight-six in the 840i. And they’d be downright charmed by the healthy 523 horses in the twin-turbo-V-8-powered M850i. Six-hundred and seventeen horsepower is indeed excessive, albeit here that’s true in the more delicious, wonderful sense of the word. The M8 gobbles up back roads and eats up highway miles with an insatiable greed for speed.

BMW claims it can bang off 0-60 sprints in 3.0 seconds, which feels conservative given the violence with the M8 launches and the relentlessness of the engine’s 553 lb-ft torque. This kind of burly, boisterous attitude in a big two-door such as the M8 Coupe is logical for a car that’s all about making a statement.

Specs: 2023 BMW M8 Competition Coupe

• Price: $155,345
• Powertrain: 4.0-liter twin-turbo V-8; eight-speed automatic transmission
• Output: 617 hp @ 6000 rpm; 553 lb-ft @ 1850-5860 rpm
• Layout: All-wheel-drive, two-door, four-passenger coupe
• EPA Fuel Economy: 15 mpg city, 22 mpg highway, 17 mpg combined
• Competitors: Mercedes-AMG GT, Aston Martin Vantage, Porsche 911

The statement that a flagship two-door makes in 2024 is in the language of sportiness, rather than elegance. Thus, the M8 Coupe looks like a Mercedes S-Class piped through a particularly aggro Betty Crocker decorating tip. The design is hardly pretty, but it commands attention in traffic. Proportions are almost comically chunky, the stance is wide, and the 20-inch rims really fill out the wheel wells. A standard quad-tip M Sport exhaust guarantees the 4.0-liter twin-turbo V-8 will be heard, though at idle and low speeds the noise never verges on obnoxious. New for 2023 was a 12.3-inch center display, a handful of new colors, and the optional M Carbon bucket seats already offered on the M3 and M4.

The total MSRP of $153,345 placed our Brooklyn Gray Metallic test car closer in price to the 577-hp AMG GT 63 and 655-hp Aston Martin Vantage than the Porsche 911 Turbo. We borrowed an M8 for a road trip to some of Ohio’s greatest roads near Hocking Hills State Park, complete with a spendy suite of options appropriate for a car so committed to excess: Sakhir Orange full leather interior ($3500), Driving Assistance Pro Package ($1700), carbon-ceramic brakes ($8150), M Driver’s Package ($2500), and the M Carbon Exterior Package ($5400).

You can safely skip the expensive carbon bits, but the M Driver’s Package—which raises top speed to 189 mph from 155 mph—is interesting particularly because it comes with a ticket to an M driving academy at either California’s Thermal Club or the BMW Performance Center in Spartanburg, South Carolina. The carbon-ceramic brakes, too, are appropriate for a car this large, fast, and heavy. Thanks to their heat-shedding properties, these high-diameter discs—400mm front and 380mm rear—don’t quit when you really need them.

Though our previous test of the M8 Coupe—a 2019 track outing at BMW’s Spartanburg facility—showcased the car’s immense capability, it was clear that few customers would flex its muscles in this fashion outside of a BMW-sanctioned setting. That said, the M8 is not entirely at home on curvy country roads, either. For one thing, the Bimmer’s 191.8-inch length and 75.1-inch width make it difficult to place on roads that don’t have visible corner exits. Then there’s the 4300 pounds of mass, heft which the M8 never lets you forget as it heaves its way over twisting ribbons of pavement. You don’t dance through corners so much as you march through them with righteous indignation, constantly stomping on the sharp-grabbing brakes and relying on the handy all-wheel drive and M differential to right the ship.

Though it does not require any special skill to drive quickly in this fashion, the M8 is nevertheless entertaining. Imagine riding a mechanical bull that never quite throws you off into a cheering crowd of Tecate drinkers. The sensations of speed, power delivery and weight transfer are always apparent; I suspect this is in part a consequence of BMW’s choice to stick with adaptive suspension rather than an air ride setup, as well as traditional rather than active anti-roll bars. The chassis never responds unnaturally or feels disconnected from inputs, though the steering feel on center could use more nuance. The variable-ratio steering setup does result in quick reflexes at speed, however, and the all-wheel drive system maintained the M8’s composure despite changing road surfaces, temperatures, and sections with slick leaves. The chassis is, I must admit, supremely engineered and tuned to handle abrupt transitions with casual indifference. And despite the ride’s appreciable stiffness, the M8 glides across the interstate, its V-8 purring as you whisk away the miles.

Perhaps that last bit isn’t so surprising, given that the 8 Series is more of a luxury GT model than a true sports car. The 8 employs a modified version of BMW’s aluminum-intensive CLAR architecture, which is also used on the 5 Series, X5, and 7 Series. Though the four-door 8 Series Gran Coupe is more practical, the two-door is surprisingly spacious compared with a 911. With the back seats folded I was able to squeeze in three days of camping gear, groceries, and an extra-long pop-up tent. The standard M seats are all-day supportive and cosseting, and every single thing you touch feels high-quality. There are no squeaks, rattles, or fitment gaps. A lovely little compartment with a fold-up door, just in front of the gear lever, makes for convenient phone storage. Buttons and clear displays render radio and climate controls simple. There is a touchscreen, but the familiar iDrive rotary controller is much less awkward and more intuitive to use.

BMW’s major miss here is the design of its all-digital instrument cluster, used across a variety of M and M-lite products, which is hopelessly illegible as it is aesthetically unimaginative. Other small demerits: the too-thick steering wheel—which never feels reassuringly handy when conditions call for fast work—and the wide center tunnel that noticeably impinges on the size of the pedal box. Harman Kardon’s surround sound audio system is solid, but it’s bottom of the pack compared with Audi’s Bang & Olufsen system, Volvo’s Bowers & Wilkins, or Mercedes-Benz’s Burmester.

After that track drive five years ago, our chief gripe was with the conventional eight-speed torque converter automatic transmission. Though it was a bit too eager to upshift when on maximum attack on a road course, that fault was not nearly as apparent on Ohio’s back roads where the gearbox—happiest in Sport mode, rather than the most aggressive Sport Plus—did not miss a step. In Comfort mode the powertrain settles nicely into the background, so you can drive through subdivisions and downtown areas without needing to manage rowdy power delivery. A touch of tire noise reaches the cabin at higher speeds, but I didn’t notice any wind noise, which can get tiresome on multi-hour drives.

I find it particularly delightful that BMW even offers the M8 in coupe form. Big two-door bruisers like this are all but dead, though the AMG GT has been reimagined for its second generation as a four-seater rather than a two-seater. More impressive still is that a car with so much girth, muscle, and appetite for absurd velocity remains balanced and even enjoyable on public roads. Some of the larger Mercedes AMGs and Audi RS products suffer in all-out performance guise, but the M8 manages to avoid this fate.

Too much, in this case, is just the right formula for a luxury car with an evil streak. So crank the volume to turn up the noise on Dave Matthews’ “Too Much” and chow down on whatever unsuspecting stretch of road appears in the M8’s windshield:

I told God I’m coming

To your country

I’m going to eat up your cities

Your homes, you know

I’ve got a stomach full it’s not

A chip on my shoulder

I’ve got this growl in my tummy

And I’m gonna stop it today

2023 BMW M8 Competition Coupe

Price: $131,995/$153,345 (base/as-tested)

Highs: Relentless V-8 engine. Drives smaller than it is. Materials quality inside is outstanding.

Lows: Ungainly styling. Illegible gauge cluster. Steering could be more lively.

Takeaway: Excess means little if it doesn’t add up to a memorable experience, and this ballistic missile version of BMW’s flagship coupe is hard to forget.

***

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]]> https://www.hagerty.com/media/new-car-reviews/2023-bmw-m8-competition-review-when-too-much-is-just-enough/feed/ 8 https://www.hagerty.com/media/new-car-reviews/2023-toyota-sequoia-capstone-4x4-review-loses-cylinders-gains-performance/ https://www.hagerty.com/media/new-car-reviews/2023-toyota-sequoia-capstone-4x4-review-loses-cylinders-gains-performance/#comments Wed, 06 Mar 2024 20:00:00 GMT https://www.hagerty.com/media/?p=379783

Men! How tall are you?

If you answered less than six feet, your odds of playing in the NBA are 1 in 1.2 million. Sorry, short kings, you’ve got your work cut out for you. However, if you answered more than seven feet, this is where things get interesting. Males measuring seven feet or taller have a 1-in-7 shot of being a pro baller.

Views are certainly clearer at that altitude. The same odds could surface when shopping for full-size sport utilities. Take the Sequoia, for example. Toyota’s long-running full-size sport utility doesn’t face the same competition—in terms of quantity of competitors—seen by mid-size and compact SUVs. Toyota only really has to outduel its domestic counterparts for the attention of buyers shopping for big rigs with a rear hatch—tackle the Tahoe and subdue the Suburban. Exterminate the Expedition. Whoop the Wagoneer. I’ll stop.

In case you missed it, Toyota rolled out a new Sequoia for the 2023 model year, replacing the old generation that had graced streets and trails since 2008. The all-new three-row truck ditched the tried-and-true 5.7-liter V-8 for a twin-turbo V-6 hybrid powertrain across all trim levels. What it lost in cylinder count it made up on the stat sheet; Toyota’s new big tree delivers almost 50 more horsepower and can haul nearly one ton more than the outgoing model. On the flip side, Toyota also scrapped the power roll-down rear glass beloved by the model’s most faithful buyers.

I quite enjoyed my time in the old Sequoia, which we used as a photoshoot support truck in Southern California in 2021. Its lumbering V-8 and leviathan size evoked memories of my family’s old 1996 Suburban. Naturally, I was curious to sample the latest edition.

A couple of months ago, a 2023 Sequoia Capstone painted in Supersonic Red arrived at my downtown Detroit doorstep. At first blush, it looks dramatically different than the old rig. Bulbous curves are replaced by numerous edges and angles—less Winnie the Pooh, more Storm Trooper. Its new look shrinks the overall curb presence despite gaining three inches in overall length.

The Sequoia was and always will be big. Appropriately, the new generation’s assembly was moved from Toyota’s Princeton, Indiana, assembly plant to San Antonio, Texas, alongside its bed-carrying brother, the Toyota Tundra. From the front glass forward, the new Sequoia is virtually identical to the new Tundra. Underneath, even more twinning ensues. The Sequoia has the same underpinnings as Toyota’s big pickup. In fact, the fully boxed steel frame, dubbed TNGA-F in ‘Yota-speak, shares its architecture with everything from the Tundra to the Land Cruiser to the Lexus GX and more.

The 3.4-liter V-6 between those rails can be had in the Tundra, too. The 437-horsepower hybrid plant delivers 583 lb-ft of torque and a 9000-pound towing capacity. The electric generator of Toyota’s i-Force MAX hybrid system is found within the bell housing between the engine and the 10-speed automatic transmission. As with most tech, this could prove divisive for Sequoia buyers of old, who preferred the dead-nuts simple naturally aspirated V-8 engine.

Fed by a 1.87-kWh battery, the electric motor does its part to deliver a combined 20 miles per gallon for a four-wheel-drive Sequoia, an improvement of three MPG over the old engine. The rear-wheel-drive Sequoia does two better at 22 miles per gallon. Out on the road, the hybrid engine packs plenty of punch for quick merging and stoplight pulls. Coming to that stop was curious, though, as the brake pedal was softer than I expected. Still, it was a smooth ride throughout and, despite the increase in length, the new truck felt more maneuverable.

Specs: 2023 Toyota Sequoia Capstone 4×4

• Price: $76,865/$80,906 (Base/as tested)
• Powertrain: 3.4-liter twin-turbo hybrid V-6, 10-speed automatic transmission
• Horsepower/Torque: 389 hp, 479 lb-ft (engine only), 437 hp, 583 lb-ft (hybrid combined)
• Layout: four-wheel-drive, four-door, seven-passenger sedan
• Curb Weight: 6185 lbs
• EPA-rated fuel economy: 19 mpg city, 22 mpg highway, 20 mpg combined
• 0–60 mph: 5.6 seconds
• Competitors: Chevy Tahoe, GMC Yukon, Jeep Wagoneer, Nissan Armada

The Sequoia’s overall footprint feels smaller from the driver’s seat. Chopping almost three inches from the overall height of the vehicle surely has something to do with it. Combining this lower-slung feel with a more responsive engine creates an overall sportier package. The pivot from an independent rear suspension layout to a multi-link system with a stick axle doesn’t noticeably hinder the ride quality in the new-gen rig.

Reverting back to a live-axle rear layout, something the first-generation Sequoia (2000–2007) had but the second-gen model ditched, is especially noteworthy when you size up the competition. The headline change for the latest iteration of GM’s full-sizers was their switch to an independent rear layout. Ford’s big box has been without a stick axle for more than 20 years.

The ride is also enhanced by exceptional seats that are both comfortable and quite handsome in Capstone’s exclusive white and black leather. This luxury trim line (think GMC Denali) is quite a handsome package, with several touches, like the digital gauge cluster, the drive mode selector, and the radio knob, that look like actual architectural capstones.

The Cap’ is the top dog among Sequoia’s five trims. Among its glint and glimmer, 22-inch rims, American Walnut interior trim, and power running boards top the list. (Pro tip: Do not hop into the truck with haste lest you prefer your shins to collide with the lowering boards.) It’s a truly luxurious feel that no doubt will give the Yukon Denali and the Grand Wagoneer a run for their woodgrain. The Capstone is also the only Sequoia grade to feature acoustic glass in the front doors for more exterior sound deadening. Despite this hush-hush tech, we did notice a faint whistle from the driver’s side door at highway speeds.

At this level of opulence, you’re also treated to a 14-speaker JBL sound system. Toyota’s premier stereo is right up there with GM’s Bose systems in volume and sound quality but still needs some refinement before competing with Acura’s or Volvo’s more luxurious speaker sets from ELS and Bowers & Wilkins.

Sound and climate are easy to control from the driver’s seat, with a 14-inch infotainment screen underlined by a set of physical climate control buttons. Steering wheel buttons are logically placed for cruise control, sound, and scrolling through telemetry on the 12.3-inch digital gauge cluster. The angled wireless phone-charging pocket saves console space and prevents the phone from sliding should you take the big tree off-road. (Oh, and thank goodness for a USB-A on the dash!)

Back-seat passengers have three types of charging options as well as a pared-down climate control interface. Similarly styled captain’s chairs are a bit more rigid but just as comfortable as their front-seat counterparts. The third row folds, but not flat—a consequence of the new stick axle over the retired independent rear suspension. Should you wish to haul loads beyond a few suitcases, give some additional thought about how many people are tagging along.

When tested, the 2023 Sequoia Capstone exceeds an $80K price tag after factoring in delivery fees. This is where things get dicey. You can buy a lot of truck for that kind of dough—a new Escalade starts at $83K, though with much fewer options included.

Even at the base trim level, the Sequoia skews on the pricier side of most full-size SUVs. A brand-new base 2024 Sequoia—which is unchanged from the 2023 model—is more expensive than Tahoe, Yukon, or Expeditions and just a bit less money than a Grand Wagoneer. Still, depending on options and trim levels, Sequoia is right in the mix and should be on your shopping list.

For my money, I’m still taking a Suburban, though I think that has more to do with my affinity for the Bowtie. If you’re in the market for a hybrid-powered full-size SUV, the new Sequoia is the only game in town. Sit down, “1-in-7,” this new truck has a 100-percent chance of playing in primetime.

2023 Toyota Sequoia Capstone 4×4

Price: $76,865/$80,906 (Base/as tested)

Highs: More horses and pulling power, feels more maneuverable, handsome styling that shrinks overall curb presence.

Lows: Stick axle eats into cargo space, pricey at lux trim level, no more V-8 or power back glass.

Summary: The all-new Toyota Sequoia loses cylinders, but the performance and curb appeal gains are signficant.

***

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The date my road test was published in the Orlando Sentinel—April 19, 2008—confirms that it has been nearly 16 years since I first drove a 2009 Nissan GT-R, the introductory model for the R35-generation of this momentous supercar. Having just spent a week in a 2023 GT-R, one thing is clear: The Nissan has aged better than I.

The 2023 GT-R makes the same mildly disconcerting click, pop, and clunk noises as always, especially at low speeds. But over the years the noises have gotten quieter, more muffled. When I get out of bed in the morning, my bones go click, pop, and clunk, but I’m pretty sure they are getting louder.

Despite multiple updates over the years, it really is astounding how much the GT-R hasn’t changed. The basics are still there: a 3.8-liter, twin-turbocharged V-6; a six-speed, dual-clutch transmission; all-wheel-drive. And the “Godzilla” nickname beloved by the GT-R faithful endures.

The R35 even retains its hydraulic power steering and a center-console-mounted, mechanical parking brake. That piece of anachronism is sort of endearing, but I don’t miss the old steering wheel; the 2023 setup feels better than ever. Nissan has teased us periodically with rumors of an upcoming R36-generation GT-R, but we’re not holding our breath just yet. Nissan likes to hang onto its sports car platforms for a long time; the 370Z, for instance, debuted as a 2009 model and stuck around until 2020. (You can read our review of the 2024 Z Nismo here.)

The 2009 GT-R I drove, as well as the 2023 model, was fitted in Premium trim, which has accounted for the vast majority of sales for the car over the years. In 2009, the GT-R Premium wore a $71,900 MSRP (about $103,000 today), assuming you could get one at sticker price, a problem then and now. Its value has held up pretty well: In #3, or “Good” condition, Hagerty values the car today at $52,700. That’s a little less than the value of a 2009 Porsche Carrera 4S, which Hagerty says is $59,000. But the 2009 Carrera 4S had a base price of $92,300.

GT-R prices have gone up since 2009 (what prices haven’t?) The test car I had for a 2013 drive cost $96,820, and for a 2018 test, $110,400. This 2023 Premium started at $116,040. As it was in 2018, shipping for the new model is still $1895—pricey then but closer to the norm now.

The 2023 GT-R I drove had three options: $1000 for the paint (a lovely Bayside Blue), $490 for floor mats, a first-aid kit, and USB charging cables; and $4280 for “hand-stitched, semi-aniline” leather upholstery, which was nice but not that nice. Base seats are “leather-appointed with synthetic suede inserts,” which I’d wager are fine.

Specs: 2023 Nissan GT-R Premium

• Price: $116,040 / $123,705 (base/as-tested)
• Powertrain: 3.8-liter twin-turbocharged V-6; 6-speed dual-clutch automatic transmission
• Horsepower: 565 @ 6800 rpm
• Torque: 467 lb-ft @ 3300 rpm
• Layout: Front-engine, all-wheel-drive, two-door, four-passenger coupe
• Weight: 3935 lbs.
• EPA-Rated Fuel Economy: 16/22/18 mpg (city/hwy/combined)
• 0–60 mph: 3.1 seconds

Those front seats, which have cutouts in the back for a racing harness, were very comfortable, even for a 275-mile day. I’m six feet tall, and moving the front seat back to where it felt comfortable left zero space for legroom in the rear seat. Yes, it’s theoretically a four-passenger car, but rear-seat passengers had best hope for a brief trip.

Instruments and controls were updated with the 2017 freshening, eliminating 16 buttons and switches, and they are basically the same as they were then. The smallish (by today’s standards) eight-inch center display calls up the various performance pages, of which there are many, some a bit redundant. There has always been a computer-game feel to the GT-R: After all, knowledge of this Skyline-based model essentially debuted to America as part of the groundbreaking Gran Turismo video game in 1997, four years before the Fast and Furious craze made the GT-R even more famous. (Or to some, infamous.) The GT-R is still profoundly digital, but Nissan has toned it down. And most cars today—EVs especially—are even more digital in both essence and user experience.

Despite the use of lightweight materials—the hood, trunk lid, and doors are aluminum—and some carbon fiber, this remains a very heavy car at 3935 pounds. A base Chevrolet Corvette weighs 3366 pounds, and even the Corvette E-Ray weighs just 3774 pounds. The sticky Dunlop tires, 255/40ZRF20 up front, 285/35ZRF20 in the rear, work in concert with the Bilstein DampTronic shocks and the rest of the taut suspension, along with excellent Brembo brakes (they say “Nissan,” but they are Brembos) to help make you forget that the GT-R weighs two tons. And fill up the 19.5-gallon gas tank—with 93-octane premium, please—and you add about 120 pounds to the weight of the car.

Speaking of those sticky Dunlop Sports Maxx GT600 run-flat tires, there is a stifling amount of road noise, especially on concrete pavement, even with the active noise cancellation and added soundproofing, plus the acoustic-glass windshield, all of which have been around since the 2017 refresh. The noise is taxing on longer drives, likely causing you to crank up the 11-speaker Bose sound system to help drown it out.

The powertrain—that 565-horsepower V-6 and six-speed automatic transaxle—are fundamentally what we got for 2009, except then with 480 advertised horsepower. Most of us who drove the GT-R at that first press event, held at the modest Reno-Fernley Raceway in Nevada, were convinced that Nissan was under-reporting the horsepower then, by maybe 25 or 30, and independent tests since then have confirmed it.

The engine is a masterpiece, each hand-built by a single craftsman in Japan, complete with a nameplate. Tsunemi Oyama built the engine in this 2023 GT-R; a veteran of over four decades at Nissan, he and the other four GT-R engine builders have become celebrities among the car’s substantial fan base. The quick-shifting transmission is also built by a handful of craftsmen: There are steering wheel-mounted paddles, but the computer-directed shifts are faster. Engine sound is piped through a titanium exhaust system.

Then and now, the GT-R is a guided missile, a point-and-shoot car that works very hard to make you look good. Recall that the GT-R was introduced at about the same time as the second-generation, 450-horsepower Dodge Viper. As much as I loved the Viper, you had to work twice as hard to go not quite as fast as the GT-R on a racetrack, which appealed to me but not to a lot of my colleagues at the time, who insisted that all the computer aids on the GT-R made driving on a racetrack too easy. Somehow that was less valiant. The GT-R hasn’t changed much but other modern sports cars sure have, and most come with as many (or more) technological aids as the GT-R.

The 2024 Nissan GT-R should be arriving at dealerships in the next few weeks. It shows off a mild makeover, including restyled front and rear fascias, a new rear-wing design, plus the usual smaller enhancements, such as using a thinner mesh in the grille to reduce drag. The T-Spec model returns, with carbon-ceramic brake rotors from the 600-horsepower NISMO model, gold-painted Rays wheels, and two colors from the past: Millenium Jade and Midnight Purple, from the R34 GT-R era. The powertrain is a holdover from the 2023 driven here, which is kind of a holdover from 2009.

Starting price on the 2024 GT-R Premium is $121,090; for the T-Spec, $141,090; and for the NISMO, a whopping $221,090. The 600-horsepower 2015 GT-R NISMO I drove at Homestead-Miami Speedway listed for about $151,000, so that’s a lot of inflation.

Nissan only sold 390 GT-Rs in all of 2023. I’m not sure how they continue to justify its existence. But the GT-R is a wonderful throwback with a historically significant story. I’m glad Nissan has kept the car around to tell it.

2023 Nissan GT-R Premium

Highs: Still very fast, especially from a standing start; incredible brakes, reasonably comfortable ride given what this car is; sort of invisible except to those in the know… and they all want to talk about it.

Lows: Rear seats are virtually unusable; thirsty, even when driven conservatively; road noise is truly intrusive.

Takeaway: Like driving a brand-new, 15-year-old supercar. For better and worse (but mostly better).

***

 
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The post The 2023 Nissan GT-R Premium Is a Supercar Time Capsule appeared first on Hagerty Media.

The conversation was terse, as they often are in highway rest stop bathrooms.

“Sharp car,” said the guy on my left. “What is it?”

“A Toyota Crown. Replaces the Avalon.”

“How much?” he asked.

“That one’s over $54,000, but it starts at about $41,000.”

“Seems cheap.”

“It kind of is for a flagship,” I said.

“Built in America?”

“Nope,” I said. “Japan.”

“Huh.”

Business transacted, we wished each other safe travels and went on our way.

That was not the only compliment the black-over-bronze Toyota Crown Platinum received. The car looks miles better in person than it does in pictures. Either way, it’s an odd duck, and a stretch for the usually conservative Toyota.

The Crown, reviving a name from earlier in Toyota’s history, straddles the line between sedan and SUV. From the (roomy) inside, the feel is more car than sport-ute, though the rear hatch opens to reveal 15 cubic feet of cargo room. The rear seat is spacious enough for a pair of six-footers, and a smaller third person in the middle. Though the sloping roof looks like it might limit headroom, there’s plenty. It’s a better design than the similar, late Honda Crosstour.

There are two powertrains, both of them hybridized. The base XLE has a 2.5-liter four-cylinder, helped out by an electric motor in the rear; output totals 236 horsepower, which is modest for a car weighing in at over 4000 pounds. The specific trim we tested, the Platinum, has a turbocharged 2.4-liter four cylinder engine and a pair of motors, one front, one rear, that totals a heftier 340 horsepower. The transmission is a six-speed automatic in the Platinum, a CVT in the base car.

The 21-inch tires (surprisingly grippy Michelin Primacy 225/45 R21s) fill the wheel wells nicely. Those wheels, silver and black 10-spoke, are suitably bold for a car wearing two-tone brown and black paint. There’s a big CROWN in capital letters across the back, another way the car shouts its presence.

Specs: 2023 Toyota Crown Platinum

Price: $52,350/$54,638 Base/as tested
Powertrain: 2.4-liter four-cylinder turbocharged hybrid with a six-speed automatic transmission
Horsepower: 340 combined
Torque: 400 lb-ft combined
Layout: all-wheel-drive, four-door, five-passenger sedan
EPA-rated fuel economy: 29 city, 32 highway, 30 combined
0–60 mph: 5.7 seconds
Competitors: Nissan Maxima, Volvo S90, Volkswagen Arteon

On the road, the Crown Platinum handles far better than you’d expect. It is startlingly nimble on the winding roads of Ohio’s Hocking Hills, yet it maintains a comfortable ride. The transmission shifts down a little reluctantly, but the engine’s power makes up for it. Though the EPA overall average is 30 mpg, we came in just short of that despite enthusiastically diving into and powering out of corners. If mileage is important, opt for the cheaper XLE model; it’s rated at 42 mpg in the city, and 41 mpg on the highway and overall.

Toyota apparently spent some money on sound deadening, because it’s quiet inside, at least when the 11-speaker JBL sound system isn’t engaged. The interior in general is conservative compared to the outside, which isn’t a bad thing. The shifter is console-mounted, next to a pair of cupholders. Most controls are piano key-like, mounted under the 12.2-inch touchscreen. The steering wheel is fat and leather-wrapped. A few expected luxury-type components are conspicuously missing: the tailgate is of the non-power variety, and the hood is held up with a prop rod rather than gas dampers.

Outside, well, the photos do the talking. If the two-tone models are too much, the Crown does come in single colors, which tempers the stylistic impact. Presumably Toyota is hoping the Crown picks up the same, not-inconsequential senior market that long embraced the Avalon. I’m not sure the styling fits that demographic, but the car certainly does, and that is not a criticism.

Those of us who drove the Crown liked it far better than I was expecting.  Said Sajeev Mehta: “Put the Crown in Toyota’s most aggressive Sport Plus mode and the traction control disappears from sight, allowing a more aggressive throttle mapping to hurl the big brown Crown out of all but the tightest corners with ease. The long-travel suspension has reassuring amounts of body roll, but the turbocharged hybrid powertrain is shockingly aggressive in putting power down to the correct wheel at the correct time. Some of the pleasant surprises come from the fact that the hybrid’s bulky battery is parked ahead of the rear axle, making the weight distribution akin to that of the also-hybridized Ferrari SF90. If only in theory, as no Ferrari would force upshifts in Sport Plus mode as quickly and rudely as the Crown did on our test. But this car can hustle, and it’ll hurt some feelings when caravanned on a tight road with ‘real’ performance cars.”

While the Avalon always felt like a Camry dressed in pressed pants, this looks and feels like something different.

Something better, assuming you and the design get along.

2023 Toyota Crown Platinum

Highs: Adventurous styling, relative bargain price, surprisingly competent handling.

Lows: Two-tone will turn some people off, some luxury equipment is missing, base model is down on horsepower for such a heavy car.

Takeaway: Why isn’t this car getting more respect?

***

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BMW hasn’t screwed it up. Isn’t that a relief?

If you’re an enthusiast, and I’d assume you are if you’re on this website, then it’s probably in your best interest to forget that cars like the BMW XM exist. But the 5 Series is core BMW stuff, so if the company had got this one wrong, people would be out in the streets burning Bavarian flags. But, to put your mind at ease, the new fünfer is reassuringly good.

Specifically, the BMW i5, since alongside combustion models, this is the first generation of 5 Series to be offered in fully electric form. There are two models to start with: the rear-wheel-drive eDrive40 and the all-wheel-drive M60 xDrive, with an in-between xDrive40 arriving a little later down the line.

The i5 eDrive40 is the base model, though it’s not expected to be the core model in the way the gas 530i will be. Cost is a factor; the i5 eDrive40 starts at $67,795, or about $9000 higher than the jumping-off point for the range as a whole.

That said, there won’t be much comparison between the gas and electric entry points. The eDrive40 gets a 335-hp, 317 lb-ft electric motor mounted at the rear axle, compared with 255 hp and 295 lb-ft for the 530i and its 2.0-liter turbo four-cylinder. A bit like Porsche Taycan pricing overlapping with the Panamera, this should see more than a few people giving the i5 a whirl purely out of curiosity.

Specs: 2023 BMW i5 eDrive40 & M60 xDrive (U.S.)

Price: $67,795; $85,195
Engine: Single; dual electric motors
Transmission: Single-speed, rear-wheel drive; all-wheel drive
Power: 335 hp; 593 hp
Torque: 295 lb-ft; 586 lb-ft
Weight: 4915 pounds; 5247 pounds
Range: 295 miles; 256 miles
0–60mph: 5.7 sec; 3.8 sec
Top speed: 120 mph; 130 mph

Topping the entire range, meanwhile, is the dual-motor M60 xDrive (335 hp at the rear, 258 hp at the front, for a quoted 593 hp total). That makes it easily the most powerful and accelerative of any new 5 Series—until an M5 arrives at some point—and the outgoing one of those was about $112,000. Basically, everything’s quite expensive these days.

Styling? It’s not bad, really. In fact, the i5 is less divisive than some other recent BMWs. The front, as ever, will take the most getting used to (with or without opting for M Sport Pro trim on the M60, which illuminates the perimeter of the kidneys). The back’s simply standard modern BMW, while the side profile is most interesting, with a down-sloped trunk lid of the kind we haven’t seen on a 5 Series since the E28 generation.

The proportions do a good job of hiding the new i5’s size—this is now a 16-and-a-half-foot-long car—though we noticed a styling quirk of the flat sides, which almost make the doors look like they’re bowing out when the light catches them a certain way. It’s as if the panel gaps sit in slight valleys. You’d not get that on an Audi, is all we’ll say on the matter. Large wheels help visually shrink the car, too; the eDrive40 we drove was on 20-inchers, also offered on the M60. (The 20s come at a slight range penalty.)

The i5 is arguably most appealing from the inside out. The layout and materials riff on the larger 7 Series and i7, and as soon as your derriere hits the “Veganza” artificial leather, the seats have the same astonishingly soft and comfortable feel as those in the i7. The difference in the i5 is that you sit lower in the car, and you can get lower still if you wish, as there’s enormous adjustment in both the seat and the steering wheel.

The dash layout is similar to that of many modern BMWs: A widescreen display incorporating both the driver’s instruments and the infotainment screen, and the latter is both touch-sensitive and can be operated by the glistening crystal iDrive knob between the seats, a device whose design reminds us of the old glass ashtrays you used to get in pubs, turned upside down.

As ever, the infotainment is a bottomless pit of features, most of which are best investigated before you move off, if you wish to spend any time with your eyes on the road. Luckily, frequently used stuff like climate control settings can be prodded quickly and accurately on the move, and there are various shortcut buttons around the iDrive ashtray, none of which are quite as tactile since they’re rendered in piano black plastic, a substance nobody seems willing or able to banish from automotive interiors. There’s less of it in the back, but more space than ever, thanks to the car and its wheelbase growing for this generation.

There’s little drama to starting either i5, as we’ve come to expect with EVs, but it doesn’t take much of a press on the accelerator pedal to hear futuristic noises emanating from the speakers, part of a collaboration between BMW and movie composer Hans Zimmer. They’re nice enough; we didn’t feel compelled to turn them off, and they really only come into play when you’re accelerating hard.

That’s something both cars will happily do. The eDrive40 gets from 0–62 mph in 6 seconds dead, and the M60 in 3.8. Even with only its rear wheels driven, the eDrive40 finds plenty of traction off the line, and with a quick ramp-up of power so it doesn’t turn all four tires into smoke, the M60 really launches hard; if you’re not a Tesla or Taycan regular, it’s enough to make you blurt out a few expletives the first time you give it a try.

A “Boost” paddle behind the left-hand steering wheel spoke gives an extra hit of torque, which is also fun but shows BMW has clearly reined in the ultimate performance of both cars. Basic, everyday things like getting the holeshot in converging lanes or overtaking Ethel in her Honda Fit feel like you’re entering Verstappen’s weekend wheels into a Formula Ford race. Still, this should not disappoint the 5 Series faithful.

Nor should handling. These are heavy machines, and it takes some time to wrap your head around a 5 Series that weighs, as a minimum, 2.5 tons. The much-beloved E39-generation 5er was under 3750 pounds at its lightest, a whole Caterham Seven less than the i5. But you’ll also struggle to wrap your head around the way it doesn’t at all drive like such a porky car, with abundant grip and next to no body roll.

The eDrive40 and the M60 actually feel very similar, even though the latter has adaptive dampers and the ability to decouple its anti-roll bars in a straight line to the benefit of ride quality. Both have impressive agility for their size and weight, neither complains at fairly quick changes of direction, and they obviously have the power to surge out of corners as if they have no inertia.

At normal road speeds, this resolute control of their faculties does leave them feeling a little aloof, particularly given the steering doesn’t relay many messages beyond a gentle increase in weight in quicker turns, and its natural accuracy and response. It actually leaves you thankful for the M Sport suspension settings, which renders the ride quality just tense enough that you notice what’s going on underneath, without it being actively uncomfortable, though it means really rough sections can jostle you around a little. High-speed refinement, though, is predictably excellent: little road or suspension noise, the merest rustle of wind, and obviously next to nothing from the drivetrain.

The roads of our test weren’t of the kind to really put braking under strain, but BMW has blended regenerative and friction braking well enough that you’ll rarely curse pedal feel, while the regen itself varies on the road, depending on where you are, whether you’re following someone, and other predetermined scenarios. Lift off on a motorway and you’ll likely coast (for a really long time—the i5 has a drag coefficient of around 0.22, so it barely seems to shed speed), but do the same approaching a 35-mph zone from a 65-mph zone, and the motors will harvest energy to slow you down. It’s more intuitive than it sounds.

Regen brings us on to efficiency, and with a usable 81-kWh of battery capacity, the eDrive40 is claimed to do 295 miles on a charge, with the M60 slightly less at 256 miles. Real-world range will likely be a little lower, but it’s enough to make either more useful than a Taycan or Audi e-tron GT, if not a Tesla Model S or Mercedes EQE. Both i5 models support 205-kW fast charging, so a 10–80 percent top-up takes as little as half an hour, and if you’re low on juice, a 10-minute fill can gain you as much as 100 miles.

So, to reiterate, BMW hasn’t screwed up with the i5. If you’re good with the looks and the general concept of owning an electric car, then there’s a lot here to like. A classic 5 Series will still involve you more as a driver but you knew that already; a more pertinent comparison is that the i5 is nearly as good to drive as a much more expensive Porsche Taycan, but more accommodating and it goes further on a charge, for less initial outlay. And it leaves us wondering: Would an all-electric M5 be such a bad thing?

2023 BMW i5 eDrive40 & M60 xDrive

Highs: Excellent acceleration, generous room in the back row, relatively restrained styling for a modern BMW.

Lows: Immense weight, uncommunicative steering, brittle ride over imperfect roads.

Summary: The i5 is the perhaps the best all-electric BMW we’ve seen yet, evolving the 5 Series reputation for luxury and performance that punches way above its price point.

***

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The post BMW i5 First Drive: Electric 5 Series mostly nails the brief appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Follow my watch with your eyes. Back and forth. Back and forth. You’re getting sleepy, very sleepy, as you follow my watch and listen to my voice. Your eyelids are getting heavy as you slowly drift into a slumber. When I snap my fingers, you will wake up and desire a three-row midsize SUV.

One day Americans woke and collectively decided minivans were super lame. These practical people movers became a symbol of suburbanites who had given up on their dreams and ambitions, and thus it suffered the same dismissal fate as the once-beloved station wagon. There remained, however, a need to haul kids to school and swim practice.

People turned to SUVs. These midsize utes were less adept at doing family stuff at first, but once manufacturers added third-row seating—paramount if your 1.94 kids want to bring friends along—it was game over for the minivan. So far this year, Americans have purchased close to a million three-row midsize SUVs, with the most popular being the Toyota Highlander. To put that into perspective, only 147,000 minivans have sold in the same time period.

It’s no surprise, then, that Toyota is looking to expand its offerings in the segment. The Highlander, while a perfectly cromulent crossover, is lacking in cargo and passenger space compared to the Sienna minivan. Really—is here any way to comfortably haul the travel soccer team and all their stuff down to Beavercreek without sliding doors? Will I have to *shudder* rent a van?

Toyota’s new salvo in the war on minivans aims to put that conundrum to bed. Enter the Grand Highlander. Toyota took a page out Mopar’s book and used the prefix “Grand” to indicate that this SUV is the long one. Coming in at 201 inches, the Grand Highlander is 6 inches longer than than the regular Highlander. While 6 inches may not sound like a lot, the increased length grants the Grand Highlander 13.2 more cubic feet of cargo space compared to the regular Highlander’s 84.3 cubic feet.

The extra space is noticeable. During a short driving event at Toyota’s Michigan R&D center, I rode around in the back of the Grand Highlander for a 30-minute stint. It wasn’t quite as roomy as the Sienna, but I felt less claustrophobic than the Grand Highlander’s shorter competitors like the Ford Explorer and Kia Telluride. Your 5’11” author even found the third row to be comfortable once the second-row captain’s chairs were moved forward to accommodate my knees. (A bench seat can be optioned on some variants.) Headroom is excellent, even in “the way-back.”

The rest of the interior is well equipped for kid-hauling duties. There are 13 cupholders so the whole soccer team can double-fist Gatorades on the way to the game. And, at least on the base XLE models, the SofTex synthetic leather seats will be easy to clean when one of those kids inevitably spills their Gatorade. Seven USB-C charging ports are placed throughout the three rows, so everyone can play Subway Surfers without worrying about draining their phone’s battery. Upfront, a giant 12.3-inch touchscreen infotainment system is equally useful for navigating to the game and blasting Jock Jams.

Because the Grand Highlander is a such practical vehicle, the styling isn’t particularly sexy. Rakish rooflines and rear headroom don’t go hand-in-hand. It wears the same conservative cooperate headlight and grille treatment as the rest of Toyota’s non-sporting lineup. The color choices, mostly grays and desaturated blues, leave something to be desired.  If you aren’t keen on blending into traffic, the added-cost Ruby Flare Pearl paint paired with 20-inch chrome wheels is the way to go.

The three powertrain options are where the Grand Highlander gets interesting. The base model comes with a four-cylinder, turbocharged 2.4-liter system good for 265 hp and as much as 24 mpg combined. The next rung up is naturally aspirated 2.5-liter four-cylinder engine with a hybrid system, will net you an 20 fewer horsepower and return 34 mpg combined. At the top of the heap sits a 362-horsepower, 2.4-liter turbocharged hybrid dubbed Hybrid MAX yielding 27 mpg combined. You know, in case those kids need to get to school fast. The regular hybrid and the gas engine can be equipped with either front- or all-wheel drive, and each powertrain gets its own transmission: eight-speed auto for the base engine, CVT for the mid-grade hybrid, and six-speed auto for the Hybrid Max.

Toyota expects the base powertrain (non-hybrid, turbo-four) to be the volume seller. I was able to briefly sample this powertrain in Grand Highlander XLE ($44,465), and I also got some time in a $59,520, fully loaded Platinum with the Hybrid MAX setup.

Let’s start with the MAX, because it was actually kind of fun, if not a bit silly for the vehicle it powers. All Hybrid MAXes come with shift paddles and selectable drive modes, as if anyone is going to use them. I placed the system into Sport mode and stood on the throttle. It’s quick, for sure, with a nice low-end shove courtesy of 400 lb-ft of torque. Confusingly, the hybrid system emitted what sounded like a V-8 grumble. “That has to be fake,” I confided to my journalist driving partner. Sure enough, a Toyota rep later pointed out two speakers in the headliner that pump in synthetic engine noise.

The pure gasser, however, made the struggle-bus groan befitting of a four-cylinder lugging around over two tons. It’s not particularly fast nor even fuel-efficient. Best-case scenario, with the lighter front-wheel-drive model, the gasser can only manage 24 mpg combined. Than again, if you need 5000-pound of towing capacity, the gasser is the only way to go.

At the end of my drive, I couldn’t come up with much that a minivan could do better than the Grand Highlander. Sure the rear doors don’t slide, but ingress and egress is nevertheless easy. You don’t have to climb up to get into the Grand Highlander like you would in a truck-based SUV. Also, all of the rear seats easily fold flat for carrying soccer paraphernalia. With individual USB ports, tablet storage space, and two cup/bottle holders per side, Toyota made sure the third-row passengers were just as well coddled as those in the second row.

The Grand Highlander is a solid vehicle for its intended purpose, but I’m still bothered by SUVs trying to do minivan things. Am I nostalgic for a childhood spent riding in a minivan? Absolutely. However, I’m obviously in the minority; Toyota expects sales of the Grand Highlander to outpace standard model (which already blows Sienna sales figures out of the water). Maybe the SUV hypnotist never snapped to wake me up.

2024 Toyota Grand Highlander

Price: $44,465 XLE gas turbo/ $59,520 Platinum Hybrid MAX

Highs: Spacious third row, Hybrid MAX performance.

Lows: Conservative looks, the base engine is nothing to write home about.

Takeaway: A great vehicle for families who need minivan capability but don’t want a minivan.

The post 2024 Toyota Grand Highlander Review: Un-minivan appeared first on Hagerty Media.

To mark 25 years of the Audi TT and commemorate its final year in production, we drove this final 2023 TTS coupe for one last road test. Click here to read about our drive of the original Mk1 TT, and click here for a design deep dive with insight from designer Freeman Thomas. -Ed.

Even at its most recent peak near the turn of the millennium, the market for little sports cars has never been huge, especially for the models that came with premium price tags. For 25 years, Audi’s TT has been a mainstay in the sports car world, and one of the space’s most original-looking. Though not as pure a driver’s car as some of its competitors over the years, the TT instead focused on comfort and livability. Engaging and fun, yes, but practical enough to be viable at least as a second household car for daily use.

With this year marking the end of the road for the TT, we’re here to take a last look at Audi’s little coupe. The 2023 Audi TT comes available in three flavors, all powered by variations on the same theme: a 2.0-liter inline four-cylinder mounted up front and directing power to all four wheels through a seven-speed dual-clutch gearbox.

Opt for the base, $53,290 TT—available in both coupe and Roadster guise—and you get 228 hp and 258 lb-ft of torque. Go for the $62,995 TTS, the car you see pictured here, and you step up to 288 hp and 280 lb-ft. The roaring turbo-five-cylinder TT RS went out of production after 2022.

Specs: 2023 Audi TTS Coupe

• Price: $62,995 / $65,790 (base/as-tested)
• Powertrain: 2.0-liter turbocharged four-cylinder, seven-speed dual-clutch
• Horsepower: 288 hp
• Torque: 288 lb-ft
• Layout: All-wheel-drive, two-door, four-passenger liftback coupe
• EPA-rated fuel economy: 23/31/26 MPG (city/hwy/combined)
• 0–60 mph: 4.4 seconds (est.)
• Competition: Porsche 718 Cayman, BMW 2 Series, Toyota Supra 2.0

The car you see here is coated in Tango Red Metallic, a beautiful, simple crimson with just a hint of sparkle. That’s one of eight hues to choose from. The red pairs nicely with the $2200 Competition Package, which blacks out many of the exterior details, including mirrors and wing, and adds darkened 20-inch wheels. The all-black grille area helps the angry front facia look a bit more muted, too.

All that aggression at the nose dominates the visual experience, which we’d argue distracts from TT’s overall shape. That roofline has endured fundamentally since introduced in 2008, but in recent years the TT has suffered a lot of add-on styling cues that have diluted its purity. However, the new car’s design still largely consists of a few simple arching lines, and in traffic with hordes of SUVs it still looks quite fetching.

That Tango Red continues in the interior. It splashes up the center console, runs up either side of the seats, and even frames the five, large, circular vents punctuating the TT’s abbreviated dashboard. All that plus the red stitching and the generous use of carbon fiber appliqué creates an interior that’s racy and purposeful but still comfortable.

Comfortable, that is, if you’re sitting up front. Yes, the TT coupe still includes a pair of hopelessly useless back seats, which will accommodate only legless passengers who don’t mind getting concussed every time the rear hatch is closed. The best feature of those seats is that they fold flat, creating a deeper-than-expected parcel shelf for a weekend getaway.

Front seats plush yet supportive and adjustable in all the right directions. While the cockpit is snug, there’s plenty of headroom and the deep, microfiber-wrapped steering wheel with its tiny, plastic shift paddles has enough adjustability to get exactly where you want it.

Pressing the engine start/stop button doesn’t produce a lot of fanfare, with the 2.0-liter, turbocharged engine popping rather than roaring. Left to its own devices, the TTS doesn’t really make much in the way of sound until you explicitly toggle over to Dynamic mode, which produces a richer exhaust note. Dynamic mode sets the engine and transmission to their most aggressive ends of the spectrum, the latter holding gears longer and shifting quicker. Suspension damping is also tightened, and the Haldex center differential increases torque bias to the rear axle.

With everything in its sportiest setting, the TTS doesn’t exactly morph into a different beast, but it does feel more willing to be driven hard. Even in Comfort the suspension is quite firm, however, though never punishing to the point where the car is upset by mid-corner bumps.

The steering likewise firms up considerably in Dynamic (arguably too much) but Individual mode lets you dial that back to a more livable weight while maintaining the powertrain and suspension changes. The steering is never especially lively or talkative, but its response is always quick and precise, regardless of the chosen setting.

The engine, though, can sometimes require a little extra coaxing. To get 288 horsepower out of just two liters calls for just shy of 20 psi of turbo boost, which often takes a moment to build. Adding to the delay is a transmission that, even in Dynamic mode, can be a little reluctant to downshift.

The solution here to push the tall shift lever over to the right, dropping the car into manual-shift mode. There’s still no clutch pedal here, so gear changes are controlled via the shift paddles behind the steering wheel. There’s still some automation here, however, as the car will proactively upshift before you get to the redline. No banging against the limiter, but the feature does at least ensure you’ll have the right gear most of the time.

The interior is clean, if a bit sparse, which is largely a consequence of the entire user interface living in the 12.3-inch gauge cluster. No center display whatsoever, which is something unique in the Audi lineup to the TT and the R8. The TT was one of the first cars on the market to really perfect the all-digital instrument cluster, which Audi dubbed Virtual Cockpit. The infotainment comes across as a bit limited and dated now, but it’s intelligible, even if operating it requires a fair bit of navigating through menus to find what you want. You get used to it, and the voice commands are good enough that you can often rely on them while keeping your hands on the wheel and eyes on the road. Android Auto and Apple CarPlay are included, both requiring a wired connection.

While lacking the edginess of a Porsche 718 Cayman, chassis balance of a BMW 2 Series, or light weight and balance of something like a Toyota GR86/Subaru BRZ, the TTS has its charms as a sports car. It’s handsome, comfortable, and all-wheel drive gives an extra layer of control in wet or cold weather. Thirty-one mpg on the highway doesn’t hurt either, and I averaged 27.5 mph over a week in the one you see here. Believe me, we were not hypermiling.

Sadly, all sports cars are struggling to make a compelling business case, and the industry-wide pivot to electric power means high-volume/high-margin models are the ones getting early investment. No matter how good-looking or evocative of its predecessor, the TT’s time seems to have passed. What started as a mini-bombshell back in 1998 is, unfortunately, going out with a whimper. A quarter-century is a good long life for any model, let alone a sports car, so the TT leaves us with dignity. We’ll remember it fondly.

2023 Audi TTS Coupe

Price: $61,900 / $65,790 (base/as-tested)

Highs: Still-unique looks. Good, clean fun in an accessible package. Impressive fuel economy. Striking interior, even seven years later.

Lows: Noticeable turbo lag, competitors feel sportier, rear seats are useless.

Takeaway: A striking, lively, yet livable little sports car that delivers fun more than it thrills.

***

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The post 2023 Audi TTS Coupe Review: Departing with dignity appeared first on Hagerty Media.

For decades, reviewing a BMW with an M badge on its trunk lid has required devoting a considerable number of characters to the engine. Maybe the next-generation straight-six, or an unexpected V-8. Not here; this is the i4 in M50 trim, and it’s powered by a pair of electric motors linked to a big battery. Strictly speaking, it has no engine.

Unveiled earlier in 2021, and previewed by a concept that was presented in 2020, the i4 is the fourth member of BMW’s eco-friendly i sub-brand and the first series-produced electric sedan from Munich. Get the “T” word out of your head: This is not a Tesla fighter, a Tesla killer, or a Tesla anything. It’s landing in a segment that has so far been largely ignored by carmakers (it’s about seven inches shorter than the Porsche Taycan, for example) and it plays a serious role in BMW’s electrification offensive.

The i4 is marketed as the BMW of the future. It’s supposed to look, drive, and feel like a true BMW without burning a drop of gasoline. What better roads to meet it on than the ones for which it was designed?

Up front, the grille creates an unmistakable family resemblance between the i4 and other recent BMWs, including the iX (which is also electric) and the second-generation 4 Series Gran Coupe. In fact, the i4 and the four-door 4 are nearly identical save for minute details that only eagle-eyed car-spotters would notice, like blue trim around the roundels, and the obvious lack of exhaust outlets. It’s clear that the design team wanted to create an electric BMW, not a fastback that looks like it belongs in outer space. With its muscular proportions, the i4 measures 188 inches long, 73 inches wide, and 57 inches tall.

About the grille: Yes, it’s controversial, but that’s the whole point. BMW wants to make a statement. Sales and feedback from the folks actually buying new BMWs (not the ones hoarding E34s in their backyard—you know who you are) suggest that the wide-mouth look is far more popular than many assume, and that’s a hugely important distinction. Carmakers are businesses, like your favorite local brewery. If you bought a growler in 2018 and haven’t set foot inside the place since, you’re less important to the firm’s bottom line than the guy who takes a seat at the bar every day after work, even if you love the glass container and proudly display it on a shelf in your living room. The same basic train of thought applies to BMW’s design language—and I say this as a car-hoarding purist.

Familiarity permeates the cabin as well. Sitting on a nicely-bolstered chair, the driver faces a three-spoke steering wheel, a 12.3-inch digital instrument cluster that’s part of a high-resolution curved display which also includes the iDrive 8 infotainment system’s 14.9-inch screen, and loads of carbon fiber. It feels … completely normal. Sure, it’s more tech-focused than the 3 Series (which doesn’t get the big screen yet), but not to the point that you’d be markedly out of your comfort zone after switching from one car to the other. The materials are excellent and the build quality is spot-on. Again, to BMW’s credit, the aim was to make an electric sedan that looks and feels like a real M car, and designers pulled it off.

The trunk is big enough for two large suitcases—and then some. And, if there’s no engine in the engine bay, there’s a frunk, right? EV aficionados tend to hail this front-trunk as one of electrification’s greatest side-effects, even as Porsche 914 owners look on puzzlingly. Ardent BEV fans may be disappointed here: Pop the hood, and you behold a sea of black plastic.

Power for the i4 M50 comes from a pair of electric motors linked to an 83.9-kilowatt-hour lithium-ion battery pack. There’s a motor over each axle, a configuration that’s fairly standard in the electric-car cosmos and that delivers all-wheel-drive without a mechanical connection between the front and the rear wheels. BMW quotes an output of 536 hp and 586 lb-ft of torque, figures that easily eclipse those of the current-generation M3, whose twin-turbocharged, 3.0-liter straight-six belts out 503 hp and 479 lb-ft, respectively, in Competition tune, or 473 and 406 in the standard model.

Numbers never tell the full story when it comes to performance cars, but if we want to play this game there’s a second parameter to consider: weight. Granted, an electric motor is more compact than a straight-six, but a battery pack is a lot heavier than a gas tank. BMW says the i4 tips the scale at 5018 pounds, while the M3 Competition weighs 3990. Put another way, the i4 is almost a full Citroën 2CV heavier. That’s partially why the M3 is three-tenths of a second quicker to 60 mph (3.4 vs. 3.7).

It would take a trip to the drag strip to feel the gap, however. In normal driving conditions, the i4 is lightning-quick off the line thanks to the instant torque provided by the electric motors, and it’s eager to exceed local speed limits, though luckily it has the presence of mind to warn you about it with audible and visual messages in the instrument cluster. Acceleration is linear, smooth, and silent unless you engage sport mode, which summons a deep, winding-like noise that oddly mimics an exhaust note.

Offsetting the electric powertrain’s weight required rethinking the i4’s chassis; it has less in common with the 3 Series than you might assume. Its front and rear tracks are slightly wider, its center of gravity is over an inch lower, and its front-back weight distribution checks in at 48.2 and 51.8 percent, respectively. BMW fitted an Adaptive M steel suspension system on the front axle and air springs out back, a solution which improves comfort, makes the i4 more stable, and keeps ride height in check.

The end result is a sport sedan that carries itself well on a twisty road and doesn’t feel as heavy as its specifications sheet suggests. There’s a good amount of weight in the variable steering system, too, though feedback is light. The i4 handles like a BMW ought to, with little in the way of body roll thanks in part to the battery pack being stuffed directly below the passenger compartment. The massive brakes reign in the powertrain with no fuss. Numerous companies claim to make sporty EVs; this is the real deal.

It’s also a different kind of deal. The i4 is not the sort of vehicle that encourages you to kick out the rear end or roast the tires. Grip is phenomenal, and the car always feels calm and collected. One of the more unusual aspects of the driving experience is that, because each motor is linked to a single-speed transmission, you can’t downshift. That’s the case in nearly every electric car available new in 2021, including the iX, but it’s a trait that often lurks under the radar given that most EVs are, ultimately, fancy commuters. No one buys a Nissan Leaf and heads straight to the Tail of the Dragon. The habit of downshifting before entering a long, sweeping turn is one that i4 drivers will need to lose. As somewhat of a trade-off, there’s a driving mode labeled “B” that engages a powerful brake energy recuperation system to enable one-pedal driving, so the car slows down (to a full stop, if needed) when you lift your foot off the accelerator pedal. The energy generated during this process gets channeled back to the battery pack.

Driving range—like fuel economy—heavily depends on a number of factors, including your driving style, the exterior temperature, and whether you’re coasting on a highway or lead-footing your way up a mountain pass. BMW estimates the i4 M50’s maximum driving range at 245 miles, though the EPA hasn’t put the model through its paces yet. I didn’t spend enough time behind the wheel to measure real-world range, but the estimate provided in the instrument cluster looked accurate. Charging times vary wildly based on the type of charger you use. If you charge at home, it’ll take over eight hours before “100 percent” shows up in the instrument cluster. If you’ve got access to a DC fast charger, BMW claims that you can zap the battery pack from 10 to 80 percent in 31 minutes. The i4 can handle 200-kilowatt fast charging.

When it lands in American showrooms, the i4 will be available in two flavors: eDrive40 and M50. I was not able to drive the former, which is an entry-level model fitted with a single electric motor that juices the rear wheels with 335 horsepower. Pricing starts at $55,400 for the 40 and goes up to $65,900 for the 50, though neither figure includes destination or available state and federal incentives. The list of options includes different paint and upholstery types, several driving aids, a wireless device charger, a Harman Kardon surround-sound system, and wheels ranging from 18 to 20 inches.

If you’re intent on cross-shopping, the i4 and the Polestar 2 are in the same ballpark in terms of cost, but they’re not engaged in tribal warfare. Shaped like an outgrowth of the Volvo family tree, the 2 blurs the line between a crossover and a sedan and is far less concerned with performance and handling. The Porsche Taycan and the Audi E-Tron GT cousins are both quick, sharp to drive, and electric, but they’re much bigger and correspondingly a lot more expensive. As of writing, then, the i4 has no direct rivals, an enviable position that will change in the coming years.

Inevitably, the i4 M50 will be compared to the mighty M3. They’re so close in many ways, yet so drastically different in others that the rivalry builds and fuels itself. Which one is better? You might as well argue the virtues of a pizza against those of a calzone. You can make excellent arguments for either side, but the answer ultimately depends on personal preference. If you think a sports sedan needs to have fewer local emissions than a Dairy Shorthorn, the i4 M50 is an excellent option. It’s quick, it’s engaging to drive, and it’s loaded with useful tech features. It’s a seriously desirable machine. On the contrary, if you think a sports sedan needs to be loud, raucous, and preferably powered by six or more pistons—which is perfectly OK, we’re still allowed to like engines!—then the M3 remains your best bet.

2022 BMW i4 M50

Price: $65,900 (excluding destination)

Highs: Quick, sharp handling, looks and feels like a proper BMW

Lows: Heavy, a little civilized for an M car, limited driving range

Summary: Surprisingly enjoyable to drive, the i4 M50 proves that electrification doesn’t erase the traits that enthusiasts love about BMWs.

The post First Look Review: 2022 BMW i4 M50 appeared first on Hagerty Media.

In North America at least, the Tiguan is the Volkswagen of the modern era. The Golf might still be an icon in Europe, but on these shores it’s not even sold in base form anymore, leaving just the GTI and Golf R. This shift, of course, has been in progress for a while. That VW’s best-selling model in America is a compact crossover should come as no surprise, seeing as Toyota’s RAV4 first eclipsed the stalwart Camry in annual sales back in 2017. In fact, 71 percent of Volkswagen’s entire 2021 year-to-date sales volume consists of SUVs. The second-generation Tiguan is leading that pack ahead of the Taos and Atlas, so it’s a golden goose indeed.

To keep said goose fresh, clean, and competitive, VW tweaked the Tiguan trim structure for its mid-cycle refresh to coincide with some new tech and a fresh front end for 2022. In doing so, Volkswagen culled the SEL trim from the outgoing lineup, leaving the following four offerings: S, SE, SE R-Line Black, and the SEL R-Line (our tester). 2022’s SEL R-Line costs $37,790 including destination ($1195) and comes with a host of standard features: a 10-inch Digital Cockpit Pro infotainment system, crisp-sounding Fender Premium Audio, and newly redesigned 20-inch alloy wheels. For good measure, we made it a point to also jump into a Spartan sub-$30K SE model ($29,495) in order to sample the the optional third row; the primo SEL R-Line (AWD only) won’t be available with an optional third row this year, so only the lower trimmed FWD-possible models get the option.

Underpinning the Tiguan is the same MQB architecture that makes up the Golf, Taos, Jetta, and Atlas. The crossover’s styling remains simple and clean, but the subtle changes for 2022 remind us much more of the larger Atlas Cross Sport than the tiny Taos (That’s a good thing.) Now-standard LED headlights and taillights, combined with an optional illuminated grille, give the Tiguan SEL R-Line an attractive, restrained appeal—at least in the generally ubiquitous realm of compact crossovers. Two new exterior colors enter the fold: a cooler-toned Oryx White and a regal Kings Red. The pronounced character line running from taillight to the front quarter survives as a strong styling trait that the Tiguan and Taos share.

Up against competitors like the Honda CR-V and Mazda CX-5, the Tiguan’s big advantage is its wheelbase: 109.9 inches compared to 104.7 and 106.2 inches, respectively. The interior is roomy and loads of legroom make the second row particularly welcoming upon entry, but things aren’t so cozy in the optional third row. This way-back is fit for two small rugrats in timeout and not much else, with its mere 27.9 inches of legroom. Worse still, the optional third row slashes an additional two inches of legroom out of the second row (from 38.7 to 36.6 inches) and reduces cargo volume (from 73.4 to 65.3 inches). It’s far from ideal, and 40 percent of Tiguan buyers currently opt for the top-trim two-row-only SEL R-Line and its refinements. Ventilated leather seats make a case for the SEL R-Line as well, swaddling and support the driver in a way that the SE’s stiff leatherette simply doesn’t. That said, all trims now come with standard heated front seats, which is a major boon for buyers of the base S model.

The powertrain is something of an old, trustworthy dog lacking new tricks. The turbocharged 2.0-liter inline-four produces 184 hp and 221 lb-ft of torque—nothing thrilling, but nonetheless adequate for the mainstream customer. With a car like this, VW is chasing mpg ratings more than lap times, after all: FWD models will net 26 mpg combined, whereas AWD models hit 25 mpg and the two R-Line Tiguans earn 24 mpg. One clear concession to fuel economy is the definite and frustrating lag from the throttle pedal, which creates a bit of hesitation when accelerating from a stop. This misstep extends even to the supposedly sporty R-Line trims.

Otherwise, the Tiguan hits its marks dead-on. The steering is light but predictable, the brakes are consistent and easy to modulate at parking-lot speed, and it’s easy to see in all directions. Driving an SEL R-Line is comfortable. Relaxing. This car would do just fine traveling across Midwestern state lines without the need for rest-stop yoga breaks.

The Tiguan’s touch-sensitive interface however, is frustrating enough that we’d advise a bit of deep breathing and meditation before first use. Capacitive buttons in the SEL R-Line are a chore to use, requiring the user to double-check if the haptic responses don’t provide affirmation, or more often, if the correct button was pressed. I’m no fat-fingered technology dinosaur either, but as it stands, there’s still nothing deliberate about them. This is the type of technology that looks good when the car is on the dealer lot, in Park, but becomes a lot more annoying when you actually have to use it on a busy day when other life minutiae demands your valuable attention. Case in point: When Touch ID doesn’t register on an iPhone, you look down. When capacitive buttons don’t in a car, you take your eyes off the road. The Tiguan S and SE avoids this issue by using traditional analog buttons, at least on the steering wheel, but this alone may be a reason for many drivers to forgo higher trims. The SEL R-Line’s 10.3-inch infotainment screen, at least, retains two tangible control knobs for power, volume, and the like; a small slice of redemption for those of us irked by the setup in the new Mk8 GTI.

Audiophiles will approve of the Fender eight-speaker sound system, which includes a subwoofer located in the trunk and integrated into the spare tire. We found the balanced system outclasses the Beats Audio arrangement in the smaller Taos. (A moderate improvement in road noise insulation over the Taos SEL helps, too.)

The Tiguan remains popular for its do-it-all utility and more-attractive-than-it-costs curb appeal. Volkswagen should sell a boatload of these, especially given the competitive pricing and equipment. There’s a hell of a lot of value to go around in the lower reaches of the model, but opting up into the SEL R-Line rewards spenders with a palpable air of comfort, despite the challenging UX shortcomings. The Tiguan nails a fundamental size sweetspot; many families will never outgrow it, but it’s not so large that others won’t grow into it.

Toyota’s more powerful RAV4 and Honda’s eco-friendlier CR-V still maintain strong footholds over the market. Things get murkier still when you consider the role of the Taos in the family. At 105.9 inches long and a price of $35,440 fully loaded, it’s arguably stiffer competition for Tiguan buyers who don’t need a ton of space. Of course, if having too many SUVs is any kind of problem, it’s a good problem for VW to have.

2022 Volkswagen Tiguan SEL R-Line

Base Price/As Tested: $27,190 / $37,790

Highs: Sharp design, plenty of space, and features befitting a pricier vehicle.

Lows: Touch sensitivity controls aren’t friendly on the fly. R-Line “sportiness” is more flair than substance. Throttle could be more responsive.

Summary: The Tiguan is evidence that VW finally knows what U.S. buyers want. Subtle but conscientious changes for 2022 should keep the golden-goose crossover competitive for at least a few more years.

The post First Look Review: 2022 Volkswagen Tiguan SEL R-Line appeared first on Hagerty Media.

The third time we passed a tree snapped clean in half—its foot-and-change-thick trunk now splintered across Michigan highway 28—I began to get nervous. It was the first of November, and true to form, Lake Superior hadn’t wasted a single minute spinning up Gordon Lightfoot’s fabled weather. The white-out snow engulfing the road would have been the scariest part, were it not for the wind gusts bordering on interstate speeds. If ever there was a time for a compact truck, with its relatively modest dimensions and lower tendency to spinnaker across a wind-swept freeway, this was it.

In 2019, Ford announced its return to the mid-size pickup battle, with a reincarnated Ranger nameplate. The move was an about-face from years prior, when Ford had insisted that it needn’t do battle with the Chevy Colorados, Toyota Tacomas, and Nissan Frontiers of the world because it had the right F-150 for any and every buyer. Since the Ranger’s return, we’ve been treated to some wild SEMA concepts, blacked-out trim packages, a few factory-backed performance packages—one of which is featured on our tester—and even a new top-of-the-dirt-pile Tremor off-road package. From the outset, Ford pitched the Ranger as an aid to your adventure arsenal more than a smaller truck with which to do work, figuring that the way to younger buyers’ hearts was the allure of the outdoors. That was all well and good until the Ranger platform’s other stablemate—yonder Ford Bronco—came along, tugging the adventure crowd along with it by their para-cord heartstrings. Still—Ford moved nearly 75,000 Rangers through the first three quarters of 2020, the worst year for car sales in recent memory. Someone’s buying these.

Ford kindly dropped off a 2020 Ranger Lariat 4×4 with a SuperCrew cab (crew cab in Ford speak) and a five-foot bed at Hagerty’s Ann Arbor, Michigan office. Our range-topping tester wore gorgeous Lightning Blue paint and came stacked with features like powered and heated front seats wrapped in leather, LED headlamps and taillamps, and an eight-inch touchscreen displaying Ford’s Sync 3 infotainment system. The options list included equipment group 501A, which for $2005 adds a 10-speaker B&O stereo, HD radio, and remote start, among other things. On the business end, the optional $1295 FX4 off-road package entitled our tester to a Dana locking rear axle and steel underbody armor. Toss in a $995 tonneau cover, $495 spray-in bed liner, along with a few miscellaneous items, and the base price of this $38,675 tester jumped $6530 to ring the register for a hefty $46,400, including a $1195 destination fee.

The kicker: That price is before you add in the dealer-installed Performance Package Level 1 (PPL1), which costs another $2495 plus installation. The package provides Fox 2.0 monotube dampers tuned by Ford Performance, 17-inch Dyno Gray wheels, an off-road leveling kit that props the front end up almost two inches to clear large tires, and a slightly gaudy F O R D P E R F O R M A N C E windshield banner. The package bumps approach and breakover angles from 28.7 and 21.5 degrees to 34.8 and 23.7 degrees, respectively. Problem is, it also raises the LED headlights to eye-level with most vehicles that you’ll pass on the road. After about the eighth car angrily flashing its brights at you, this will get extremely old. You’ve been warned.

A fully-boxed steel frame with six cross-members undergirds the Ranger. The 126.8-inch wheelbase is uniform across both cab sizes, forcing buyers to make a hard choice between a short bed or a cramped cabin. This differs from the Toyota Tacoma and the Chevy Colorado, which both offer two bed lengths with their crew cab models. It’s an extremely handsome truck, windshield banner be damned. Max Wolff’s team designed a muscular-looking pickup with a quiet, confident snout free of matte-black lower air dams—the absolute worst part about the Colorado’s schnoz—and a simple but effective body to cash the check written by the front end. The leveling kit does miracles for the side profile of the truck—two inches up front balances the profile out and makes an extremely rugged looking little truck.

The Ranger’s interior is certainly nicer than the Colorado’s, but that’s not saying much. There are a few things to nit-pick. For starters, why anyone allowed the power mirror adjuster to reside just left of the steering wheel, in direct eye line with said steering wheel instead of on the driver door’s switch panel like normal, is beyond me. Taller riders (I’m a hair under six-foot) may also take issue with the positioning of the HVAC controls. Their angle makes climate adjustment a guessing game during darker drives, especially with such weak backlighting. You can access many HVAC controls within SYNC, but they’re a few menus deep and similarly annoying.

The driving position is less upright than you’d get in a full-size pickup, but not as legs-out-front as you’ll find in a Tacoma. Skip the Lariat’s leather seats; you can get away with the XLT’s premium cloth just fine, especially since you can get them heated. If you’re my height or taller, you’ll do well to avoid the back seats altogether—they make better parking spots for daypacks and bouldering equipment than useful places for hind ends.

Ford’s sole powertrain offering is a 2.3-liter turbocharged inline four-cylinder found in everything from the Focus RS to the Explorer. Here, it’s good for 270 horsepower and 310 lb-ft of torque. It’s torquier than the 3.6-liter V-6 in the Colorado (275 lb-ft) or the 3.5-liter V-6 in the Tacoma (265 lb-ft). That two-three bolts to a Ford and GM co-developed 10-speed automatic transmission with three overdrive gears and a 3.73:1 final drive ratio. Rear-wheel drive is standard, but 4×4 is available with either an open rear differential or a locking rear diff when you spec that FX4 option box. (Two-wheel-drive Rangers can spec an FX2 package that scores the same locking diff and body armor.) The transfer case features a 2.717:1 four-low ratio.

Off the line, that torque is immediately apparent. The Ranger scampers out of its own way with a muted thrum that grows in intensity, but not pitch. There’s none of the raspy, thrashing top-end that plagues Colorados, Tacomas, and Jeep Gladiators alike, probably because the gearbox won’t let the motor anywhere near redline. Peak torque arrives at just 3000 rpm; winding the engine out isn’t as necessary. Around town, this powertrain combo stays largely in the background. But once speeds crest the 50-mph mark, you’ll occasionally catch the gearbox two gears too high, the engine spinning low rpm and off-boost. Ask it for a few mph more, and the whole thing goes limp as a cooked noodle. Only when you really boot it does it hurriedly drop a few cogs and rear its head. Ten forward drive gears might be too many for this small of an engine when cruising.

Unless you’re towing, in which case every gear offers precious seconds in the engine’s power band as you lug, in our case, a flat-bed trailer and an oft-videoed Austin Healey around town. The Ranger’s max towing capacity is 7500 pounds. We didn’t clear half that, but were impressed with how even hauling 3000-ish pounds, the Ranger still got a move on rather nicely. Ford’s towing mode holds gears longer before upshift and triggers downshifts much earlier than it would unladen, helping slow the caravan with engine braking. A reminder: Although all mid-size trucks can tow, regular haulers of anything more than a single jet ski would do well to head straight to the full-size aisle.

The Fox suspension that PPL1 brings is sublime, soft enough to cope with the winter-battered roads in and around Traverse City. On the dirt roads we plodded through to get to prime hiking trails, those monotube dampers did their darndest to soak up the beating doled out by the craters and potholes that turned away lesser vehicles before their destination. Add in some speed on the rougher roads, and you can still feel the back axle hop a bit through the nastier divots. Ford was keen to clarify that PPL1 isn’t a get-Raptor-quick kit, but more of a factory-backed extension of what it saw its customers changing on their trucks anyways. The front end feels like any road-going crossover with heel inserts, a boon for the ribboning portions of highway 58 west of Munising, Michigan.

At the end of the day, the Ranger is still a bit of a hard sell—especially as a range-topping Lariat trim. Among mid-size competition, a brand-new Colorado ZR2—the gold standard for fun, adventurous midsize pickups—can be had for several thousand less than this thing. Colorado Z71s will barely clear the $40K mark while offering a better driving experience for day-to-day living. Tacomas will hold their value in ways of which Rangers can only dream. The sweet spot is a modestly optioned XLT trim, if you absolutely have to go Ranger. (You can add the performance packages onto any of the trims after the fact.)

The biggest challengers to this truck come from inside the Blue Oval itself. Ford is the best in the business at selling an half-ton to anyone who so much as thinks about a new car. Beyond the $40K mark, the only thing keeping most truck buyers out of an F-150 is a lack of parking space. Worse yet: The Ranger’s platform-mate, the Bronco, enjoys rose-tinted brand cachet and years of hyped anticipation, particularly with the adventure crowd that Ford was hoping to entice when the Ranger first returned. It’s hard to see anyone with a real penchant for adventure opting for this pickup rather than a Bronco or—whisper it—a Bronco Sport. In a vacuum, this is a likeable pickup worthy of your consideration. In the broader market, however, it gets overtaken by alternatives, the best of which come from the Blue Oval itself.

2020 Ford Ranger Lariat 4×4 SuperCrew

Price: $46,400, including $1195 destination fee (Performance Package Level 1 costs $2495 before dealer installation)

Highs: Handsome exterior, excellent Fox suspension, refined engine.

Lows: Puzzling interior layout, our tester’s price puts it squarely in the line of the Colorado ZR2. Too many great alternatives, not the least of which comes with the same frame.

Summary: Ford did the Ranger dirty by plopping the Bronco on the same frame. Chevy did the Ranger dirty by making the Colorado (in Z71 and ZR2 forms). Unless you’re squeezed for space and still need a bed, just grab an F-150.

The post Review: 2020 Ford Ranger Lariat 4×4 appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Restomods, recreations, reimaginations. Whatever term you prefer, new cars that are inspired by, or built directly from, cars from the past have become increasingly popular, giving many of us rich daydream material. You’d best set aside more minutes of your working day (come on, admit it) to fantasize about this Volvo P1800. Developed by Cyan, a World Touring Car Championship–winning racing team, this totally overhauled, classic coupe demonstrates a quality of thinking and level of detail that, well, bear the hallmarks of a world-class motor racing team.

Somewhere beneath this gorgeous machine is a 1964 Volvo 1800S. What remains intact? Not much. Just the steel in the door pillars and the hood release are carried over. Nearly everything else has been replaced and re-engineered with parts far superior to the original’s Volvo Amazon–derived mechanicals and steel. Even the body and dashboard are new.

Sacrilegious to some, perhaps, but it’s also why this reimagined P1800 is so sensational to drive. Almost 40,000 of the original coupes were produced, and Cyan is happy with even the most tired starting point, such as a cheap, basket-case P1800.

However, just because the donor car could be worn-out and affordable doesn’t mean the P1800 Cyan will be. At a very strong $500,000 (£370,000), this Volvo swims in Porsche 911 2.7 RS–infested waters and requires 12 to 15 months to complete. To date, Cyan says it has taken two orders, and that’s before anyone like me has had a chance to tell the world whether the car is any good to drive.

The Cyan Volvo gets a new, mostly carbon fiber, body shell; double wishbones all round (replacing the live axle at the rear); and a turbocharged four derived from one used in the World Touring Car series in place of the original four, which made roughly 100 hp. The new engines provides a 420-hp kick in a car that weighs only 990 kg (2182 pounds). There’s no stability control or ABS, because Cyan would rather help you drift down lanes than offer driver-assistance systems to prevent you from drifting out of them.

So far, so obvious. A racing team’s interpretation of a Volvo 1800 was always going to be exciting and analog. More surprising is that this is no stripped-out bone-shaker. The doors open and clack shut with an unexpectedly substantial feel given the feathery curb weight, fit and finish are superb, and, despite a resolutely racy flavor, the interior embraces a classic GT feel. The leather bucket seats are deeply padded and long-distance comfortable, the titanium roll cage is wrapped in leather, and the lovely wool-like textiles and chunky carpets epitomize Scandinavian cool.

Even the engine has noise suppression to damp the vibration and harshness that are normally synonymous with bolting a race engine straight into a road car. And, what’s this? There’s a delicacy to the clutch, manual gear shift, and steering at low speeds that means popping out to buy some milk could be a literal endeavor, not just a euphemistic excuse for a hedonistic drive.

The real magic is how Cyan makes such potentially thuggish performance and an extrovert chassis so exploitable and enjoyable on the road. You feel it in the finessed ride to the way power builds like a pot of boiling water and how its tires progressively relinquish their hold on even cold, sodden U.K. asphalt.

Cyan’s history with both race and high-performance road cars is key to the success of this project. The Swedish company started racing TWR Volvos in the 1990s in the domestic touring car championship, progressed to racing Volvos in the World Touring Car championship. Along the way, the firm rebranded as Polestar and developed performance road cars officially sold by Volvo, where considerations like safety and refinement were increasingly important.

Volvo bought Polestar in 2015 and the team reverted to its original name: Cyan Racing. (Polestar is now Volvo’s premium electric brand.) When WTCC rules changed to the lower-maintenance TCR regulations, the quadruple champions found themselves with less to do and began wondering how they might conceive a Volvo classic in the vein of Porsches reimagined by Singer, but with a WTCC twist. The P1800 seemed like an obvious starting point, even though Cyan had never raced one.

‘[It gave] us inspiration to create what could have been if we as a race team had been there during the [Sixties], racing the P1800, and got to design a road version of our race car,’ explains Christian Dahl, Cyan Racing boss.

Dahl makes it sound simple, yet it was anything but. Hans Baath, Cyan Racing’s general manager of cars, recalls Cyan engineers testing the torsional rigidity of an original P1800 and discovering it didn’t have any. It’s why there’s new structural bracing along the sills and underbody triangulation. The carbon-fiber body is also bonded to the steel to boost structural integrity.

All metalwork is new beyond the front and rear bulkheads and accommodates the new double wishbones all-round, so rather than being constrained by existing pick-up points, the suspension was instead relocated. Hence the front and rear 18-inch forged alloys are further forward, pushed out on a wider track, with the suspension infinitely adjustable: compression, rebound, caster, camber, toe and, at the front axle, for bump steer, too.

It’s all packaged in a body that Ola Granlund, Cyan Racing’s designer, reinterpreted from the original Ghia design by Swede Pelle Petterson. Most notable is the shorter rear end with less upright fins, but all the glass is new because the glasshouse is subtly different. Some 15 cm (5.9 in) shorter, 5 cm (1.96 in) wider, and 8 cm (3.2 in) lower, the updated car is like a P1800 morphing in the direction of a Jaguar XJC—sleeker, more planted, more sporting, and, above all, achingly beautiful.

The Volvo 2.0-liter turbo four is basically—if not literally—lifted from Cyan’s 2017 WTCC-winning Volvo S60, which raced at 1.6 liters. The installation is so neat it appears naturally aspirated before you spy the turbo tucked low down, and it’s connected to a five-speed Hollinger gearbox, a carbon-fiber prop-shaft, and a Wavetrac torque-biasing rear differential.

There’s a certain gruffness along with the whooshes and sucks you’d expect of a turbo engine running 2.7 bar, but there’s character and excitement, too. The engine is expertly remapped to be useable on the road. Peak power doesn’t arrive until 7000 rpm (the rev limit is way up at 7700 rpm), but, more important, the surprisingly modest 335 lb-ft of torque doesn’t arrive until 6000 rpm. Drivers have come to expect more oomph at much lower revs from a turbo, so you know from the numbers this will be different.

The nuanced delivery is immediately reassuring on the wet roads near Cyan’s temporary base at Silverstone, the U.K. circuit. While there’s still sufficient torque to be perky at low revs, power builds progressively rather than hitting the rear tires like a wave pounding the shore, and the throttle response is ultra-precise. The Borg Warner turbocharger, which has ceramic ball bearings, spools up with barely any inertia at all. Your right foot is absolutely calling the shots.

First gear is down and left on a dog-leg like on a BMW E30-chassis M3, and it’s quite a long (if very likable) throw, but it slots with a clean little click, and the ratio’s quite tall. The result is a bit like mechanical traction control, because you can really ease on to the pedal and feel the power rising gradually. When the rear tires finally do slip (Pirelli P Zeros in a Mercedes-spec compound), the rear steps out so progressively that you just bang the lever forward for second and use all the power again, confident that if the rear tires continue to slip then, well, you’ll deal with it.

When you really trust what’s beneath you and use all the performance, there’s a screaming rush past 7000 rpm that fizzes with energy and feels quite unlike any other turbo four I’ve driven.

The chassis is developed to be similarly progressive to the power. It tracks straight and true and soaks up bumps no matter how tricky or cambered the surface or how much standing water is on the road, and makes the car feel approachable, from its body control to the measured rate of steering response to how it feels so laser-guided and unflappable. Four-piston AP brakes provide a firm pedal and crushing stopping power that somehow still struggles to lock the front wheels in foul conditions. That said, an ABS comfort blanket might be nice.

Our test car was not quite the finished specification, as the electric steering is a default calibration from the aftermarket supplier and Cyan preferred not to send us out with the one it’s experimenting with. The truth is the steering’s very good, nice and precise and with a lightness that helps make it wieldy without feeling vague and disconnected, but it doesn’t self-center. This didn’t materially spoil a road drive, but I wondered if it might if you were chucking it around on a circuit—or, better, on a frozen lake with studded tires—and more aggressively exploiting its flamboyant handling. Hopefully the final calibration addresses that.

Even as things stand, there’s a fusion of excitement and predictability in this specification that breeds real confidence, to the extent that edging past the limit is a lesson in how to dial both communication and sublime balance into a chassis; it’s just so deliciously throttle-steerable. In fact, it’s when this car starts to slide that you truly appreciate just how beautifully set up and thought out this entire vehicle is. Turns out it was all overseen by no less a hand than Thed Bjork, the man who drove Cyan’s 2017-winning Volvo S60 WTCC car.

The P1800 always was an unusual Volvo, but this one is borderline contradictory: it prioritizes performance, appeals to your heart over the head, and probably costs more than a nice Scandinavian farmstead.

It won’t make sense to a lot of people, not least traditional Volvo buyers, but Cyan Racing’s twist on the P1800 happens to be not only my favorite Volvo, but one of my favorite cars full stop.

2021 Volvo P1800 Cyan specifications

Highs: An ultra-cool iteration of Volvo’s coolest sports car, unique style, expertly tuned dynamics that can be enjoyed on the road.

Lows: Niche of a niche, 500 grand is serious coin for any 1800.

Summary: An absurdly over-engineered and meticulously restored Swedish sports car for the thinking enthusiast.

The post Review: Volvo P1800 Cyan appeared first on Hagerty Media.

What’s so funny about peace, love, understanding, or a $53,000 minivan? More to the point, why do so many of us have no difficulty justifying massive pricetags on SUVs and crossovers that are stunted-growth minivans in all but name—hello, Macan!—while flinching at the idea of spending real cash on something with sliding doors? I suspect it’s the same reason that full-sized pickup trucks have become luxury trinkets-on-wheels while full-sized vans remain workmanlike items. (At least, until Airstream or Sportsmobile get hold of them.) A lot of people buy a pickup truck or an SUV despite having zero practical use for them. But a minivan? That’s something you need. And people tend to be a little, shall we say, sharp-penciled when it comes to the necessities.

Most people, anyway. There’s a long and time-honored tradition in some circles of getting top-shelf family wagons. Kingswood. County Squire. Colony Park. Roadmaster. To these names, and to Chrysler’s own dearly-departed “Town And Country” trim level, you can now add: Pacifica Pinnacle. This is a fifty-three-thousand dollar minivan.

FCAs decision to resurrect the “Voyager” nameplate on a budget version of the Pacifica minivan in 2020 freed the latter nameplate to start heading upmarket at warp speed. Pacificas now start at $35,000 and climb sharply from there. No matter which one you choose, you’ll get LED headlights, revised styling that is not shared with the Voyager, a Pentastar 3.6 V-6, and a few boutique powertrain options: plug-in hybrid and all-wheel-drive, neither of which is broadly available in the competition.

As has been the case since 1984, Chrysler always has the neatest toys for minivan buyers. Today it’s a massive uConnect 5 infotainment system, additional head-to-head games for the second-row passengers, and the “FamCam” that allows drivers to easily see the faces and behaviors of children in the back seats without having to turn their heads, even if said children are in a rear-facing child seat. The side doors and rear liftgate can be operated hands-free. Two new center consoles are available, both providing cavernous storage and wireless phone charging. There’s a squadron’s worth of USB-C outlets throughout. Chrysler touts “100 safety features” in a manner that makes this Generation-X writer think of the K-car and it’s “41 standard features!” advertisements.

Above the base Pacifica there is a Limited. It’s available with “platinum chrome” trim or as a blacked-out “S” model. The “Red S” Pacifica variant, which combines black exterior trim and bright red leather seating surfaces, makes a return for 2021. (If you buy this, you are probably a really fun person and I’d like to meet you.) The top of the line is the newly-created Pinnacle, which has a unique center console, quilted leather, and all the good stuff as standard.

Chrysler wouldn’t necessarily be quick to tell you, but the Pinnacle’s primary reason for being (other than profitability) appears to be as an attempt to make the famous Stow N’ Go seating a bit more livable. Everybody knows that Stow N’ Go, which allows both rows of rear seats to disappear into the floor pretty much immediately to create a totally flat load surface, is a magic trick. But it’s like the magic trick at the center of the Hugh Jackman movie The Prestige, which is to say that it can lead to untold human misery. Nobody’s ever figured out how to make a flat-folding rear seat match the comfort of a conventional unclip-and-remove item.

The Pinnacle’s Stow N’ Go seats are very sophisticated, about as highly padded as it’s possible to be while still folding—plus they come with a Nappa leather/suede lower-back pillow. It’s the best Stow N’ Go seat I’ve yet experienced, and light-years ahead of the originals. That being said, it’s still not the optimal choice for long-term ferrying of full-sized adults. If you would like to do that, Jeep has a Grand Wagoneer coming in the near future.

Even at twenty-eight inches longer and ten inches wider than the original Chrysler Town and Country, the Pacifica relies on some tight packaging to provide Stow N’ Go plus all-wheel-drive. Yet it appears to work better than fine. FCA engineers claim that this minivan can make some very intelligent decisions about when to pre-engage the rear driveshaft. Are you braking hard? Swerving around? Accelerating hard? Chances are you need the rear wheels involved. If you’re cruising on the freeway with zero wheel slippage, the rear driveshaft stops and the fuel economy goes up.

Naturally, I had to test the stoplight-drag capability of the AWD, and I can report that when brake-launched at 2000 rpm or above the Pacifica will perform a zero-wheelspin dig that will have everyone’s juice boxes flying. Not fast by any modern standard—how could it be, with under 300 horses and close to five thousand pounds?—the Pacifica is still capable of cutting and thrusting with the most aggressive freeway traffic. Body roll when taking corners at double the posted limit is minimal. Brakes are strong with a progressive ABS interaction. The only real gripe concerns the side mirrors, which could stand a bit more convex surface for a larger field of view.

The grown-up focused aspects of Chrysler’s boutique minivan are very nice. The stereo system is more than adequate, with good staging and relatively tight drum/bass given the large interior. Seat comfort is impeccable. Noise is at an all-time low thanks to thicker glass and additional soundproofing. In the Pinnacle, you don’t touch anything that feels or looks cheap. There’s even a tiny bit of fancy wood that is supposedly quite real.

Next to this, Honda’s Odyssey Elite looks a bit plain-Jane. Yet Chrysler has long had a nontrivial advantage in minivan features, styling, and functionality. The competition tends to pull ahead based on reliability and durability. (Owners of “glass transmission” Odysseys are free to snort here.) To assuage this concern, FCA provides a 100,000-mile warranty on the hybrid powertrains. Yet there’s no escaping the fact that big, heavy, transverse-engine FWD-based minivans tend to be among the most fragile of new cars, no matter whose badge is on the snubby nose.

I wouldn’t worry about it too much. If you can afford a minivan at this price level, you can probably afford to keep it running. And the newest generation of SUVs, struggling to push truly bovine weights with strangled two-liter turbo engines, aren’t exactly designed for million-mile lifespans either. Nor can they even approach the people-and-cargo capacity of a true minivan. If you need something like this, you won’t be satisfied with a CR-V. There’s that word again: need. What’s so funny about a $53,000 minivan? Only this: With this Pacifica, Chrysler has once again managed to accomplish a unique, if quixotic goal. In a segment based almost entirely on need, this is the one you’d really want.

2021 Chrysler Pacifica Pinnacle: $53,000 as tested. ($50,000 for hybrid FWD)

Highs: Continues to blur the line between luxury sedan and family van. Thoughtful features. Looks like a million bucks.

Lows: Costs like 53,000 bucks. Sideview mirrors are subpar. Stow N’ Go remains a big compromise. FCA still needs to make the reliability case for these vehicles.

Summary: Maximum minivan for maximum money—but if you have an appropriate use case, this will be a hard vehicle not to buy.

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