Once issued a challenge to write a novel in just six words, Ernest Hemingway famously produced, “For sale: baby shoes, never used.” Well that’s a bit depressing. No wonder he shot himself. It’s rumoured that Hemingway considered this snippet his best work. Get ready to eat your heart out Papa Bear, ’cause I can sum […]

When I reviewed the '07 Altima 3.5 SE, I concluded by posing the question, "Why in the world would anyone buy a Maxima?" Why indeed. The Pen-Altima far surpassed its big brother in power, handling and styling. Nissan had neglected the Maxima into a noisy Toyota Avalon with a cheap interior. Pity, because the nineties' version was a sort of lower-case-m-5: Japanese bento-box-styling with three tubes of wasabi squirted under the hood. Now Nissan's thrown the old Maxima blueprints out the window of a Nürburgring-blitzing GT-R. Four-door-sportscar? We'll see about that.

For some people, climbing into a car, starting it on the first try and driving off with reasonable confidence in actually arriving somewhere is as sacrilegious as getting communion wafers out of a vending machine. These zealots (let’s call them Tinkerers) regard motoring as a religious experience filled with arcane ritual, unfathomable mystery and fervent prayer (or at least frequent blasphemy). To members of The Church of The British Sports Car, there are few better altars than the MGB upon which to sacrifice one’s time and money. But perhaps MGB ownership is not so much automotive-hair-shirt-wearing as it is Guy Fawkes emulation: brilliant plan, ‘orrible execution.

When the redesigned 2008 Impreza WRX made its New York debut, you could hear the collective creak from the upturned conks of the cognoscenti. What’s with the Camry clone? Somehow Subie thwacked a dart-full of its patented anti-fun serum into the styling of one of the world’s most “enigmatic” designs. But just how bad is the damage? Have Subaru’s efforts to re-brand the rockstar ‘Rex as a kinder, gentler, pop-idol created a yawnster? More importantly: is it possible to be a bad Subaru, but a good car?

Anyone who’s ever watched a canard-laden, sooty-arsed Spec V Skyline blast through a corner like a turbocharged gecko knows that the NISMO (Nissan Motorsports) boys are capable of crafting some serious speed. Yes, well, making a street fighter out of Nissan’s weight-challenged Sentra compact is sure to require some extra strength bippity-boppity-boo. Speedy silk purse, lethargic sow’s ear, that kind of thing. In short, I approached the Sentra SE-R Spec V with a healthy dose of scepticism, cynicism and I’ll-believe-it-when-I-thrash-it-ism.

I don’t get veggie-burgers. If something didn’t actually die for my dinner, I reckon it should at least have been pretty severely inconvenienced. What’s more, a good burger is always bad for you (arterial distress on a sesame-seed bun). So it is with the Subaru Impreza 2.5i Sport Wagon. Why would anyone buy such an entirely sensible vehicle when they could drive away in a full-fat, hormone-injected WRX Sport Wagon? Why indeed. It’s time for a serious sampling of Fuji Heavy Industries Lite.

Over the years, my father’s garage has become an elephant’s graveyard of corroded metal, faded wiring diagrams, desiccated gaskets and other relics of a lifetime of Land Rover ownership. Buried deep somewhere in that automotive salmagundi: an old Punch magazine. Within its yellowed pages, a cartoon shows three British Leyland workers clustered around the company magazine, contemplating a picture of an Austin Mini with its speedometer mounted on the hubcap. The caption reads: “Cock-up of The Month.” Amen. The Land Rover was the far best four by four by far ever built by lazy English Communists.

Picture this: you’re a middle-aged, mid-level, middle-management guy in the mid-west. You’ve gone a bit doughy around the middle. You’ve got 2.5 kids and a golden retriever. You got socks for Christmas. It’s been a long time since you handed in your acid-wash denims for wrinkle-resistant Dockers, swapped the Van Halen for Vivaldi, and traded in the Firechicken for a four-door bore. But there’s something strange about today. The (predictably) silver sedan you’re sliding into isn’t all that boring. She’s got dual exhausts, a V6 packed with ponies and check out those taillights… Sweet! You hit the push-button-starter (!) and there’s an underhood growl, just as Wilson Phillips breaks into, “Hold On For One More Day.” Yep, it’s the 2007 Nissan Altima.

Surrounded by four competing sedans, the Nissan Sentra looks like a hippopotamus amongst a pack of grinning velociraptors. It’s as if the old model went on a Haagen-Daz bender after having its heart broken by a Renault Megane LE (Lothario Edition). And talk about late to the party. If you’re young, stylish and sporty-ish, you buy a Mazda3. If you’re young, stylish, play too much X-Box and want a handbrake like a photon torpedo release, you buy a Honda Civic. And if you’re a veteran of the Crimean War or your personality’s been surgically removed, you buy a Toyota Corolla. So what does the Sentra bring to the small car party?