I've been wondering about the future of urban car culture for some time. How can its adherents sustain interest in an automotive genre based almost entirely on big wheels, retrofitted TV's, new upholstery and presidential window tint? Extreme examples are still eye magnets, but they're beginning to seem a bit… limited. Sure, car nuts of all stripes are capable of endlessly obsessing over the smallest details– body colored engine braces, taillight covers, tire treads, miniscule horsepower upgrades, etc. But there's only so much you can do to make a car look like a pimpmobile. In general, and in specific, it's been done.

Detroit execs have been too quick to sell the idea that consumers' clocks have struck midnight and turned the hardcore small SUV and pickup party into a pumpkin. Ask any domestic automaker, and today's smart truck money is almost exclusively on the crossover market. And while it's true that all-wheel-drive softroaders are hot, the notion that Americans won't pony up for a charismatic, purposeful body-on-frame compact is utter nonsense. The segment's erosion has far more to do with a dearth of compelling product than it does with the rise of alternative classes.

Need proof? Look no further than Jeep's evergreen Wrangler. Despite underpinnings hewn from Woolly Mammoth tusks and a convertible top that only a masochist could love, it continues to sell smartly year after year, decade after decade. In fact, its sales have actually been trending UPWARD as of late– no doubt thanks in part to the overdue addition of Jeep's Unlimited model (and the brand's ever-present cult of personality).

If cars were subject to truth in labeling laws, the Mercedes Benz CLS would be called the Mercedes Benz WTF. Nothing can quite prepare the casual viewer for the chop top Merc's initial impact. Whether you see the sedan as a bold and beautiful move by an adventurous carmaker, or a hideous repudiation of a famous marque's dignified brand values, the CLS' delivers the kind of aesthetic jolt normally reserved for concept cars and George Barris creations.

Quite how this show stopper infiltrated Mercedes' lineup is anybody's guess. Did Chrysler parachute 300C designer Ralph Gilles into the main corporate HQ? Did Mercedes boss Dr. Eckhard Cordes fall in love with the reveal on 'Pimp My Mini-Maybach'? In any case, the CLS accomplishes at a single stroke what BMW's Bangle failed to do with an entire model range: transform a German carmaker's image from stodgy establishment lackey to cutting-edge automotive artist. It's that wild.

I swear I've haven't clipped a curb in decades. And yet there I was, cutting in front of a line of traffic in the great Rhode Island tradition, when I heard the muffled whump of the 645Ci's rear tire cresting concrete. It's not the kind of sound you want to hear when piloting a $70k "Ultimate Driving Machine"– if only because it makes you seem a lot less than the ultimate driver. Not guilty. I blame mechanical foul play.

Firstly, the 645Ci is a hard charger. The moment your right foot touches the go pedal, every one of the coupe's 325 horses stampedes towards the horizon. That may not sound like enough horsepower to make you lose your bearings, but by God, it is. Thanks to a stepless intake manifold, double VANOS variable valve timing and other Bavarian black arts, the 3781lbs. luxobarge steams to sixty in a scarcely credible 5.5 seconds. More importantly, it strains to do so at every possible opportunity, to the point where the traction control idiot light sends out a steady stream of Morse Code.

Props to The Dodge Boys for their steadfast refusal to give up on the Neon. Its original incarnation was a googly-eyed flexible flyer, with sharp handling and a willing (if coarse) drivetrain. The sports sedan earned plenty of praise for its sensibly-priced enthusiasts' appeal and cheeky looks– at least until its predilection for rattling to bits revealed itself. Predictably, over the last couple of years, the Neon's glow has been eventually eclipsed by newer, sharper, faster, better-built competitors.

And yet, here it is, in full SRT-4 regalia, slathered in Orange Pearl Blast paint.

I can't figure out the appeal of the Continuously Variable Transmission (CVT). Currently featured in the new Ford 500 sedan, the transmission system consists of a pair of cones and a steel drive belt to transfer power. The CVT offers a continuous ratio change (similar to changing gear with a standard manual or automatic) by varying the diameter of the cones, without a step in ratios like a conventional automatic transmission. While conceptually simple, the actual hardware is tremendously complex and expensive. What's more, supporters' claim that the CVT increases economy and performance simply doesn't bear close scrutiny.