Front wheel drive sucks. Case in point: the Acura TL. Here's a perfectly good car ruined by the simple fact that its front wheels have to steer and propel at the same time. Give the TL's gas pedal a shove, feed the engine some revs, unleash a bit of torque and, well, it's all a […]

Evolution is a strange thing. You start with a single cell animal, wait a couple billion years and end up with Eminem. By the same token, you start with a rough and ready off-roader, wait thirty-four years, and end up with a luxury car on stilts. Evolution is not a good thing or a bad thing; it's just a thing. But the question remains: is the Range Rover fit enough to survive in an automotive environment teeming with first class competition?

The moment you heave yourself aboard the Range Rover, the British-built SUV asserts its exclusivity. The RR rejects the usual luxury car sports seat posturing in favour of a driver's throne, complete with leather arm rest. The view through the all-but-vertical windscreen reinforces the imperious vibe. You sit up high, master of all you survey – including about an acre of bonnet stretched out beneath you like the playing fields of Eton.

The Toyota Prius is a technological tour-de-force. At low speeds, its 28hp nickel metal hydride battery provides propulsion. Put the hammer down, and a 1.5 litre, 76hp internal combustion engine takes over. The transition between the two systems is relatively seamless. You don't even need an extension cord; the gas engine and energy from the braking system recharge the battery. What's more, the new look gas-electric Prius hybrid exceeds California's Super Ultra Low Vehicle (SULEV) exhaust standards. Driven sensibly it gets around 45mpg (US Gallons).

Terrific! If you're a money-conscious motorist who believes SUVs and their ilk pollute the planet and pervert the course of American foreign policy, the $20K Prius is a godsend. But if you're a petrolhead who regularly sacrifices social responsibility on the altar of adrenal release, Toyota's clean, green mileage machine is a far less attractive proposition. For one thing, the design is spectacularly dull. Quite how Toyota managed to blend so many ill-conceived details (slab-sides, gruesome headlights, hideous rear hatch, etc.) into such a narcoleptic shape is a mystery almost as impenetrable Chris Bangle's justification for his "flame-surfaced" BMWs. In fact, the Prius is so unintentionally stealthy it gives drivers automotive Alzheimer's; I "lost" the car in a supermarket parking lot whilst standing directly in front of it.

You expect a Ferrari Enzo to be quick; a "slow supercar" is as much of an oxymoron as a "fast moped". You also expect an Enzo to be temperamental; Ferrari freely admits that post-delivery mechanical malfunctions are an integral part of the development process. But most of all, you expect it to be beautiful. Think of it this way: if the $650k Enzo wasn't beautiful, everyone who saw one would consider its owner a fool.

Benny Caiola Jr. is no fool. Saying that, would you lend your Ferrari Enzo to a stranger? Before you answer, consider this: the New York property developer owns two of them. And an F40, F40LM, F50, 333SP, 512BB, 575M, 456, 355, Dino, four 360s, a Lamborghini Diablo and Murcielago, Pagani Zonda, Porsche GT2 and Aston Martin Vanquish. So even if a visiting journalist somehow carved his place in automotive infamy, Benny wouldn't be taking the bus…

There's something slightly odd about testing a car called an "SS". While petrolheads may know that Chevrolet uses the letters to indicate a "Super Sports" derivative, it's hard not to wonder how many SS models are bought by German-speaking Argentineans. Anyway, just in case I wanted to maintain a low profile whilst driving a Chevrolet Monte Carlo SS past my local synagogue, GM kindly delivered a press car painted in "Competition Yellow".

Earlier this year, Ford was preparing to launch its revised F-150 pickup truck. The Boys from the Blue Oval knew all-too-well that their empires fortunes rested on their new truck's brawny shoulders. They also knew that Nissan's new Titan– the first Japanese product to crash America's full-size pick-up party– was set for release around the same time. So, pre-launch, Ford gave out phony towing numbers.

That's right; Ford deliberately leaked an incorrect maximum towing capacity of 9500lbs. The idea: trick Nissan's product engineers into competing against the fake number. Then, surprise! Reveal that the new F-150 can actually tow 9900lbs.! It worked. The F-150 out-pulls the Titan by 400lbs. Ford sandbagged Nissan.

There are two sides to every driver: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Dr. Jekyll is the courteous, law-abiding motorist beloved of governmental agencies. He drives slowly and sensibly, follows the Highway Code with religious zeal and simply shakes his head when someone cuts him up. Mr. Hyde is a hooligan and a speed freak. His only concern with the law is not getting caught. His only concern with fellow road users is blasting past them.

The Audi A4 Cabriolet is Dr. J's ride. One glance at its surgically sharp creases and fat-free curves and you know this top-down two door was designed for physicians. The shape is so clean you have to scrub-up just to look at it. In a world where Mercedes Benz has more classes than a pre-med program, BMW's are listed under "ubiquitous" in the dictionary and Jags are for geriatrics, the sexy but smart A4 Cab is the ideal, understated image projector for a status-conscious MD.

I'm not a cowboy, farmer or gardener. I don't build or repair things. I don't own a motorcycle, skimobile, ATV or boat. If I buy something too big to fit in my SUV, I have it delivered. In other words, I'm not a pickup truck kinda guy. But when my local paper's editor asked me— a writer who considers a triple digit sprint down a German autobahn a religious event— to review a truck, I went and got me a truck: Ford's F250 "King Ranch".

I chose it for the name. Texas' privately held King Ranch is larger than my home state of Rhode Island. And so is the King Ranch pickup truck. Obviously, this four-door Super Duty variant doesn't occupy 1300 square miles of real estate. It just looks that way. Parked on a driveway, its roof clearance lights glinting somewhere in the stratosphere, the King Ranch makes an average-sized American house look puny. It's the automotive equivalent of that endlessly annoying punch line, "Everything's bigger in Texas!"

First, the good news: the Porsche Cayenne is a hit. Since its release up to this July, American dealers have flogged 6350 Cayennes. The SUV's sales have lifted turnover in Porsche's key market by 15%. With the introduction of a cheaper, six-cylinder Cayenne (sans S) in '04, Stuttgart's SUV business should continue to grow apace.

Now the bad news: the Porsche Cayenne is a hit. The increase masks a 21% sales drop for 911s and Boxsters. Bottom line: the Porsche Cayenne has transformed the world's pre-eminent sports car manufacturer into a truck maker with an ailing sports car business attached.

Imagine you're approaching your favourite corner. There's no traffic, the weather's fine and all the cops are down at the donut shop. Now, imagine you're in an SUV. I know: let's not and say we did. Still, if you had to thrash an SUV, which one would you choose? If you're thinking Porsche Cayenne, you're not wrong. But think again. Because no matter how you look at it, the Infiniti FX45 is the sportiest sports utility vehicle money can buy.

Saying that, a lot of people don't like looking at the FX45. From the front, it's a Chrysler Pacifica morphed with a robotic fish. From the back, it's a Renault hatchback with J-Lo's butt. From the side, it's got the same tiny rear overhang that makes Mercedes' SLK the Cyrano de Bergerac of sports cars. Yup, the FX45 is yet another Japanese attempt to create a new design language from American and European styling heritage. The result denies your eyeballs a moment's rest, but it is, um, "interesting".

I'm convinced my local highway on-ramp was designed by the Pawtucket (Rhode Island) Fire Department. Drivers have just 100 yards of tarmac to join the outside lane of a three-lane road that immediately and violently kinks left. The ramp ends on a bridge, so there's no breakdown lane for failed mergers and there's an off-ramp 200 yards ahead. As you'd expect, cars line up like F14 pilots on a carrier deck. It's the perfect Death or Glory test track for the Pontiac Grand Prix GTP with Competition Group Package: the "Comp G".

Pontiac gave me a fighting chance by transversely mounting a supercharged V6 under the bonnet. The 3.8 litre unit may be older than Abba, but it stables 260 horses. Equally helpful, the super six cranks out 280 ft. lbs. of torque at 3200rpms. By all accounts, it should have been sufficient oomph to keep Pawtucket's paramedics in front of their soap operas.

Driving in the US state of Rhode Island is like being in a Mad Max movie. All lanes are passing lanes. Road rage is a given. Serious accidents are everywhere. To say you take your life in your hands is misleading. In fact, you put your life in the hands of madmen, fools and incompetents; drivers who alternate between homicidal and suicidal tendencies. To avoid the endless threat to life and limb, skill is not enough. You need luck, bravery, caffeine and a Cadillac Escalade.

Despite the Escalade's epic dimensions— six feet high and 16.5 feet long— its protection against the slings and bumpers of outrageous driving has nothing to do with the acres of sheet metal adorning its body-on-frame chassis. Like all SUV's, the Escalade is a truck. It's exempt from US automotive safety legislation, which mandates life-saving technology like passenger safety cells. Bottom line: when push comes to crash, you're at least as safe in a medium-sized German saloon. If not more. Lest we forget, the Escalade's high and mighty stance gives Caddy's big rig a genetic tendency to fall over when things go seriously sideways.

It may not seem logical to start a review of Mercedes new, new-shape S600 by dissing the glove box. After all, this machine is Mercedes' latest salvo in the ongoing German horsepower wars, featuring a battle-ready twin-turbocharged 6.0-litre V12. But trust me, you gotta see this glove box. More specifically, open the lid and take a gander at the tiny light bulb illuminating the cubby. You can see the naked bulb shining above the glove box' top edge. What's more, the lid itself is so flimsy you have to shut it with your fingers directly over the central lock. Otherwise, it just falls back down. Plop.

How the mighty have fallen. Once a Mercedes Benz – any Mercedes Benz- boasted unassailable build quality. Now, the quality of the plastics and workmanship in their top model makes an Audi – any Audi – look like a Rolls Royce (which of course is a BMW). For people who notice and appreciate the way a heater switch feels when you press it, or how a visor adjusts, it will come as no surprise that the S-Class is easily outclassed by a flotilla of less expensive saloons: Jaguar, Audi and, gulp, VW. OK, rant finished. Let's talk about power…

What's it like to drive a Volkswagen R32? Have you ever driven a Porsche Carrera 4? Well, it's like that, only smaller. The R32's engine provides the same silky smooth, addictively aggressive shove. The Vee Dub's 4Motion system generates the same tenacious grip. The uber-Golf has the same razor-sharp steering and seats-of-the-pants feedback. In fact, the only significant difference between Wolfsburg's finest and the pride of Stuttgart is the styling.

And the suspension. And the relative street cred, speeds involved and price. But let's leave such comparisons for the end. At this early stage in the game, suffice it to say that any VW that can play in the same ballpark as a modern Porsche is something you need to drive, if not own. So, let's take this German pocket rocket for a spin…

After a winter's afternoon spent tear-assing around in Poole Harbour, a thoroughly frozen Mrs F. sank into the SL55's heated seats, switched on the massage button and drifted off into the arms of Morpheous. I immediately began the Sleep Test. How fast could I drive without waking my passenger?

Is that the sound of eyebrows arching? Many enthusiasts will insist that the best way to test a 493bhp automobile is to grab it by the scruff of the neck and thrash it to an inch of its life. Please! Have a little respect. The SL55 may be Mercedes' fastest ever production automobile, but it is not a rally-bred Subaru. It's a Benz. It's a big, heavy, luxury car. Tradition dictates that the SL55's driver displays a certain amount of 'decorum'. Progress should be rapid, yet safe and effortless. Hence the Sleep Test.