My plan: drive the metallic blue BMW 128i Convertible down to San Diego. I could've clichéd down the coast, stopping off in Yorba Linda to do donuts in the parking lot of the Nixon Library. That's what a sensible person would do. But the true masochist always chooses the route less traveled. So, straight from the heart of Hollywood, I loaded up the Bimmer's minuscule trunk, saddled my semi-potent Deutsche-steed and set off through the seriously Lynchian Inland Empire. Unseasonably hot, 97-degree late-April weather be damned.

My biggest kvetch about the BMW 1-Series: price. When you compare the 1-Series to the more practical 3-Series, the cheaper 1 might as well have a bone through its nose and wear a Fine Young Cannibals T-shirt. Still, no one ever lost any money selling BMWs to well-heeled consumers whose desire for status trumps… everything. Given that the majority of the brand’s fan base are insensitive to matters of relative worth– other than new hotness– the drop-top 128i has less of a hill to climb than the rest of the “I’m-not-a-3-Series, not yet an icon” 1ers. So, does it?

Sam Adams Light. Porsche Cayenne GTS. Same deal. Both the American light beer and the German "sport truck" are fundamentally flawed concepts– made palatable by knowledge, passion and invention. Did I say palatable? I meant enjoyable. You can quaff copious quantities of Sam Adams' 124-calorie-per-bottle beverage without thirsting for "real" beer. By the same token, you can drive the snot out of the 405hp GTS without asking your companion "Dude, where's my Boxster?" In both cases, if you didn't know better, you wouldn't, and you wouldn't care. But if you do, will you?

Normally, driving a car with a stonking V8 engine powering the front wheels is like watching Michael Moore and Rush Limbaugh make out. It's so wrong on so many levels. Can you squeal like a pig? Just so. Will that pig's snout dart about like an amphetamine-crazed truffle-sniffer? Uh-huh. But here's the kicker: what if it doesn't? And what it you, uh, like it? Does that make you a deviant pistonhead? No, it makes you a closet fan of the quietly nutty, deeply cool Buick LaCrosse Super.

Most people drive the Acura Integra like they stole it. Mostly, it's because they have. Or, more accurately, someone else did. Model years ‘94 to ‘01 regularly grace the zenith of the annual top ten most stolen automobiles. Moral outrage aside, the Integra's tendency to disappear is entirely understandable. It's a cheap, fast, infinitely modifiable and reliable automobile that appeals to teenage boys, college students, financially-strapped pistonheads, rice rocketeers and thrifty professionals looking for a set of hot wheels (so to speak).

After spending a few days in Nissan's Cube, I was reminded of Orange County's Mar Vista housing tract. Built in the 1940s by designer Gregory Ain, the development deployed basic shapes (squares and rectangles) to give the suburban spread a high degree of architectural sophistication. Of course, people considered these "flat roof" houses a commie plot (so to speak); builders only erected 52 of the planned 100 homes. The Nissan Cube sells for $11k in Japan. In the same way as Mar Vista, the Cube offers a whole lot of chic for a little bit of green.  

When launched, the Infiniti Q45 was infinitely more desirable than Lexus's stuffy LS400. Unfortunately, Lexus had already eclipsed Mercedes as the brand Black Sea immigrants asked for by name, and BMWs remained the must-have nouveau riche accessory. Although today's M45 is best-in-class, BMW 5-Series' still runs the schoolyard. Meanwhile, Infiniti (and everybody else) is striving to wrest control of the all-important, profit-laden next class down. So how does Infiniti's AWD 3-Series fighter stack-up?

After testing BMW 135i and 335i coupes back-to-back, I can reveal that there are only two good reasons to purchase the smaller, cheaper car. Either you need a track day machine or you're an idiot. Otherwise, spend the extra bucks and buy the 335i coupe. The 335i coupe is more attractive, more enjoyable to drive, holds its value better and offers far more real road usability than the 135i. If BMW had made the 135i as a lightweight, no-frills, Bahn-burning turbo rocket ship, they would have created a truly unique, desirable automobile. But they didn't.

I flew into Los Angeles with aspirations of driving something powerful; I had visions of some mighty motor displacing six liters or more. Anything with the letters AMG on the back would have suited me just fine. Instead I was staring at a gigantic Mercedes GL 320 CDI. That's CDI as in "diesel." I reckoned it was going to be a long drive to San Diego. I reckoned wrong.

Subarus are supposed to be the Birkenstock sandal of the automotive world; simple, robust cars with a certain sense of style that doesn't care about current fads. Alternatively, you could say a Subie used to be what a VW used to be (before Ferdinand Piech started messing with the brand) plus a boxer engine (once a key VW characteristic) and standard all-wheel-drive. In recent years, Subaru's image has become less and less clear. The automaker's desire to escape the granola ghetto first gave us the Tribeca, and then the new Impreza. And now we have a new Forester; an answer the question that in the past didn't have to be asked: what is a Subaru?

Until now, TTAC has only reviewed new cars. Due to popular demand, we've decided to experiment with reviews of pre-loved automobiles. This raises some important questions. Should we compare the used car to its contemporaries, its latter-day incarnation or an equivalent-priced new car? Or should we just review it "as is" and let TTAC's Best and Brightest hash out those issues in the comments section? As the Brits say, we're going to suck it and see, beginning with Sajeev's review of a Lingenfelter-modified 1990 ZR-1 Corvette.

History is bunk. Although cars like the Jaguar XK120, Shelby Mustang and Porsche 911 have become legends, their modern equivalents offer far superior driving dynamics. And greater reliability. And safety. But it is their "soul" that resonates: the combination of icnoclastic style and man – machine zeitgeist. So when enthusiasts (and BMW PR) started comparing the new 135i to Bimmer's venerable 2002, expectations were sky high. The reality is more like a fat guy limbo dancing under a pole raised six feet off the ground.

To evaluate the all-new 2008 Toyota Sequoia, I spent some quality time with comparable full-size SUVs from GM and FoMoCo. In back-to-back-to-back tests on the highways and byways of Denton County, Texas, I pitted the new Sequoia Platinum against the 2008 Ford Expedition King Ranch Edition and the 2008 Chevrolet Tahoe LTZ "White Diamond" edition. Let's not beat around the Texan brush: the Tahoe outshines its competitors as the best all-around full-sized SUV. Here's why…

To understand the new X6, you must go back a few years to the 2001 X Coupe Concept. This was the first time the world got a look at BMW's vision of a jacked-up sports car that "deliberately questioned existing preconceptions." Nothing whatsoever made it from the concept to the production X6– save a bit of flame surfacing and the chutzpah necessary to give well-heeled motorheads what they didn't know they needed: a jacked-up five thousand pound, four-door, four-seat, all-wheel-drive sports car.

The first time GM attempted to create a BMW 3-Series fighter, we got the Cadillac Cimarron. After 27 years of trying again (and again and again) to take on the rear-wheel drive driver's car, we've got a rebadged Australian import that goes by the name Pontiac G8. No question: the G8 is a far better automobile than the Cimarron (what modern car isn't?). But it's still no 3-Series. Frankly, it's not clear what it is.