Let's get something out of the way right now: the Yukon Hybrid is over-priced. Our tester stickered at $56k. At that price point, GM's gas – electric SUV competes against BMW's enlarged X5, Audi's Q7 carcoon and Lexus' golf club friendly RX 400h (to name a few). Hybrid or no, the GMC Yukon's not exactly what you'd call an upmarket machine. If The General had taken the hit and offered the Yukon Hybrid for the same price or less than its gasoline equivalent, it would be a far more compelling proposition. But they didn't. So let's press on.

Nissan claims the Murano was the first crossover. Subaru claims that "honor" for the Forester. I think the first crossover was probably some variant of the Model T. Ladder frame construction or no, I'm never exactly sure what constitutes a CUV or SUV. Besides, as most truck buyers neither tow nor venture off-road, it's what semanticists call an invidious distinction. In other words, who cares? The more important question is whether or not a particular vehicle has the looks, packaging and performance it needs to survive. The new Nissan Murano must, again, still, stand on its own merits. Does it?

Back in 2004, Chrysler thought it had a segment-busting winner with the Pacifica. Neither car, minivan, nor SUV, the luxurious large "crossover" was supposed to play a key role in Chrysler's planned move upscale. Buyers lined-up none deep for Chrysler's bloated station wagon. The automaker was forced to de-content, discount and discontinue the disastrous distraction. Stunned by the Pacfica-shaped sales sinkhole, it took Chrysler another five years to field another three-row crossover. The 2009 Dodge Journey is in many ways the anti-Pacifica. Will it be any more successful?

Station wagons with manual transmissions are quickly going the way of the fedora. In fact, there are more gas-electric hybrids for sale stateside than row-your-boat wagons. If you want an all-wheel-drive model, the number plummets. Which makes me wonder: what's the point of the Subaru Outback five-speed?

I'm piloting a vehicle with a mid-mounted engine coupled to a close ratio transmission. The steering feel transmitted through the chunky helm is sublime, matching Bimmers of yore. Wearing a maniacal grin, I [hypothetically] pitch my whip into a corner at an [allegedly] injudicious speed, listening to the engine, passengers and tires scream. As I clip the apex, I punch the throttle. The powerplant howls as the chassis adopts hooligan-induced oversteer. I saw at the wheel, maintaining a sideways slide. Audi RS4? Chevrolet Corvette? Nope. I'm driving a tall, skinny, eight-passenger Nissan Urvan.

When I bought my second Rex, I nearly bit the bullet and went STI. But I like to haul more than ass. So I sacrificed balls-out speed for cargo capacity and bought the five-door WRX (again). The good news: starting now, Subaru's hottest rally-bred machine is available only as a hatch. The bad news: the new STI costs $14k more than the WRX. Is it worth it?

SUVs are evil. Evil I tell you! They represent all that’s bad about America: greed, sloth, gluttony, selfishness, arrogance and environmental indifference. They gargle gas, warm the planet and knock poor little hybrids into next week. More importantly, SUVs cost a fortune to feed and depreciate like packet of condoms. So what’s an SUV-intensive manufacturer like GM to do? Why make an SUV that doesn’t do all that hard-core SUV stuff, spiffy-it-up a bit, and sell it to all the people who love SUVs but hate SUVs. Ladies and gentlemen, the GMC Acadia.

Ford’s marketers often appear to live in a sort of surrealist parallel universe. How else to explain their enlistment of Kermit, the self-effacing, hand-operated amphibian, to pitch the Ford Escape Hybrid? This SUV has the makings of a game-changing, ass-kicking product. It’s a genuine full hybrid, with components licensed from Toyota.  It’s sized, styled and priced to the mainstream’s liking. Yet, saleswise, the hybrid Escape is croaking. Methinks Ford’s spokesfrog hasn’t given the Escape Hybrid the marketing momentum it deserves.

The Pontiac G5 Coupe reminds me of John Steinbeck’s classic novel “Of Mice and Men.” Best-laid schemes aside, no car deserves more to be taken out to a field and shot in the back of the head. This brand-engineered blight bleeds bureaucratic bumbling. No doubt someone at GM figured that Pontiac should share some of the Cobalt love with a derivative of their own (a la the Cavalier/Sunfire). Rather than taking a pass-worthy platform and making it into something worthwhile, they gave us the G5, “lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain.” 

Thanks to John Steinbeck and Nat King Cole, Route 66 is an American icon. But Highway 77 in South Texas gives "kicks" of the international kind. As this highway winds down Mexico way, we find neglected and discarded compact trucks in pairs, towing their belittled brothers to a new life south of the Border.  And while America's insatiable demand for new product continues apace, Highway 77 speaks to a silent majority who favors cheaper and smaller vehicles.  It's the spiritual home of the Ford Ranger.

In recent years, General Motors has had something of a change of heart regarding hybrids. In 2004, “Car Czar” Bob Lutz dismissed hybrid cars as “impractical” and “a fad.” By 2007, Saturn gained a Green Line off-shoot dedicated exclusively to selling such endeavors. While GM doesn’t separate out sales stats for Saturn’s sub-brand, suffice it to say sales suck. This bodes badly for Saturn’s newest green machine: the 2008 Aura Green Line. Does the hybrid version of last year’s North American Car of the Year deserve a chance?

The days when Ferrari and Lamborghini were the sole, unquestionable, untouchable owners of the “supercar” moniker are gone. The Carrera GT’s clutch may have permanently besmirched Porsche’s “everyday supercar” rep, but the roadster's at least as dramatic as Maranello’s magic mounts. The SLR may be a dour machine driven by a brain-dead debutante, but the scissor-doored McMerc still has supercar written all over it. And those pesky Americans keep doing things to the Corvette that increase its credibility in the field of extreme machines. So is the “entry level” Ferrari F430 becoming a little, uh, pedestrian? 

Before emailing a rave review of the new Ford Mondeo, I wanted to understand why an automaker with such great products in the Eurozone has such a mediocre reputation. Posing as a potential purchaser, I phoned to make an appointment for a test drive. Employee of Dealership A: "We have one Mondeo you could try out, but we are booked for the next ten days, I think." Sales guy at Dealership B: "Sorry, I just started here six months ago, the guy in charge is on sick leave.” His stand-in? On vacation. “Please call again in a week or so.” See? It’s NOT all about the product. But I digress…

I suspect that a large number of readers are dismayed by America’s love for the full-size pickup truck. It may be an inconvenient truth about cars, but there are still plenty of working people who love the gas-guzzling genre with a passion undimmed by concerns about global warming and America’s [entirely theoretical] energy independence. Drilling down one of Houston’s warehouse districts, the Ford F150 XL MidBox got more thumbs-up than a popular gladiator bleeding on the Coliseum floor. Admit it: other than all that PC stuff, what’s not to like about a workhorse with steel wheels and rubber floors?

Hammering the IS-F through the sleepy desert two-lanes of Rosamond, California, I tried to remind myself: “I’m driving a Lexus.” But the 416-horsepower sedan leaves little time for inner monologues. Caned hard, the IS-F reels in straight-aways like King Triton's spey rod. Corners arrive before your consciousness can catch up. Quick! Turn in, dip the throttle, unwind the hefty steering and feel the skittering rear wheels rotate you through the apex. Then look down at the silver “L” pointing at your chest. Cognitive dissonance much?