When Porsche decided they needed a cash cow in the shape of an SUV, they built a brand new truck and stuck a 911 face on it. The Cayenne isn't exactly what you'd call pretty, but there's genuine Porsche engineering underneath. When the fast-growing Saab brand decided to enter the American SUV fray, parent company GM took a different approach. They stuck a Swedish nose on a Trailblazer/Envoy, made some suspension mods, angled the instruments towards the driver, put the ignition between the seats and called it good.

To be fair, Saab swears on its smorgasbord that the 9-7X has brand-specific driving dynamics. Hmmm. Good as it is, a Porsche Cayenne still drives like a truck, not a 911 or Boxster. By the same token, a lowered and stiffened Envoy isn't likely to handle like a front-wheel-drive turbocharged Saab sedan. Besides, no matter how many Swedish engineers were involved, no matter how Scandinavian the driving experience, can you really call the gas-loving 9-7X a genuine Saab when it won't even be sold in Sweden? What the Hell happened to national automotive identity?

Find an open stretch of highway, floor the Mercedes S55 and you'll soon know what it means to kompress the time/space continuum. There's a small pause and a gentle jerking sensation– as the five-speed gearbox kicks down and the supercharger spools up. And then the AMG-fettled sedan launches itself at the horizon with a single, seamless blast of forward thrust. Any doubt that the massive S55 can obliterate time with acceleration dissipates the moment you watch the speedo arc gracefully past 140 miles per hour, and keep on going.

I guess that's what happens when the Württemberg Wirbelwinds stuff 493 horses and 516ft.-lbs. of torque under the hood of an S-Class sedan. Even in these horsepower mad times, when a stock pickup truck can out-drag a 60's Ferrari, that's a lot of grunt. It's enough shove to put Mercedes' 5.5-liter V8-powered leviathan on a par with a Porsche 911. (Both sprint from 0 to 60 in 4.6 seconds.) No wonder the technician who builds the S55's supercharged powerplant signs his name on the engine; Guido Nordheim wants you to know who owns your adrenal glands.

I called up Ford the other day. Apparently, they're still keen on putting Volvo, Land Rover, Jaguar and Aston Martin under one roof. Talk about weird. Passion dead people who want to stay alive buy Volvos. People who really do honestly intend to take their off-roader off-road someday (or at least drive it when it's snowing) buy Landies. Aspiring plutocrats buy Jags. People with more Mercedes than sense (i.e. people who don't mind when bits of their second car fall off) buy Astons. It's about as logical a mix as muesli, venison, Pimms and cocaine.

Apparently, it's not the forecourt from Hell. It's Ford Motor Company's Premium Automotive Group! Discriminating buyers who want the best, um, status safety off-road sports car can find it— or them—under one roof. PAG plans for each super dealership to feature a "Motor land" test-driving facility. Customers will have the opportunity to try out the car of their choice on an oval track or an off-road course. God forbid someone should take a wrong turn and drive an XKR-R off-road, or a Defender around a proper corner. If it sounds confusing, that's because it is.

Pistonheads believe cars have personality, character and yes, soul. Putting the pedal to the metal in a Cadillac CTS-V, it's hard not to agree. The 5.7-liter powerplant bellows, the tires squirm and the V charges at the horizon with all the determination of an enraged bull heading for a matador's cape. Redline Caddy's 400-horse four-door and she'll give you everything she's got. And man, she's got a lot. The V rockets from zero to sixty in 4.7 seconds and completes the ¼ mile in 13.1. If the V was a bull, I'd want to be one very fast matador.

Amazingly, the CTS-V is not all about brute force. Unlike its rip-snorting cousins– the Dodge Viper, Chevrolet Corvette and Dodge SRT10– the V is a seriously agile whip. As hard as it is to comprehend, the CTS-V, a Cadillac, could well be America's finest handling car. Yes folks, it's true: Detroit has finally produced a car to rival a BMW.

Here's a question: why would anyone want a pickup truck that accelerates from 0 to 60 in 5.2 seconds? Don't most people prefer a flatbed that's comfortable or practical or reliable or fuel efficient or… something other than monstrously quick? What's the point of a Porsche-killing pickup?

Bragging rights. Drivers of the Dodge Ram SRT-10 bask in the knowledge that they're behind the wheel of the world's fastest pickup truck. And by God, they want everyone to know it. And by God, they will. Anyone who stands eyeball-to-eyeball with an SRT-10 will be in no doubt that The Dodge Boys' uber-pickup is in a league of its own.

Every now and then a car comes along that turns convention on its head. Cadillac's CTS-V is a perfect example. Who would have thought that the foremost proponent of the floaty-drifty school of handling would produce a sports sedan with sharper reflexes than a BMW 5-Series? The Chrysler 300C is another case in point. The last thing you'd expect from Daimler Chrysler, a traditional Detroit automaker with German masters, is a bad-ass gangsta-mobile.

The 300C was built for a drive-by shooter. Its narrow, high-set windows look more like gun slits than casements. Its gigantic "egg crate" prow projects a distinct air of physical menace. Slab sides, sharp creases and sheer bulk complete the "urban assault vehicle" design theme. Not to put too fine a point on it, what player wouldn't want to roll up in a car with such stylish malevolence?

The instant you fire-up BMW's new 645Ci, a chime buried deep in the dash rings out. "BLING!" In fact, it does it twice: BLING! BLING! Point taken. From its backlit kick panels, to the chrome "eyelids" over the kidney-shaped grills, to the gigantic wheels and tires filling massive, flared arches, the 645Ci boasts more street […]