If Toyota is the new GM, Kia is the new Toyota. After establishing a U.S. beachhead with price-oriented products, the Korean automaker has gradually expanded its reach by replacing its penalty boxes with vehicles sporting upmarket features and class-leading safety, while maintaining the brand's value promise. The Rondo is yet another example of the kind of mass market machine The Big 2.5 should be building, but isn't.    

The last generation Audi TT had more show than go. The German roadster’s dynamics were tarnished by massive turbo lag, an over-eager paddle shift gearbox and an entirely flappable suspension. In fact, the TT’s iconic exterior design and interior quality were its only saving graces. Now that TT 2.0 has arrived, and a decent enough amount of time has passed since Hugh Grant’s loathsome character drove a TT in “About a Boy," is Audi finally ready for a little Boxster bashing? Yes and no.

A Volvo sports car is like a porno star wearing a condom: it makes perfect sense, and none at all. And yet, for reasons lost in the notes of a Ford strategy session gone bad, the brand best known for passenger fortification has developed an ongoing need to engage in protected sex appeal. Currently, the 300 horse S60R and V70R are the lead characters in this oxymoronic endeavor. Snicker if you must, but Volvo has publicly proclaimed that their R’s are suitable competition to BMW’s unassailable M3. Them’s fighting words!

Slide into the snug, over-bolstered leather seat. Push the chunky key fob into a slot labeled “start/stop.” Tune an ear to combustion as smooth as a baby’s backside. Grab hold of the three-spoke leather-wrapped helm. Engage first gear. Mash the throttle and drop the clutch. Brace for wheel hop, snick through the gears to triple digit speeds, then slam on the brakes. Escape through the heavy driver’s door and slam it shut. Glance back at the Volkswagen Passat 2.0T.

Badge engineering is the bane of the pistonhead’s existence. Or is it? Actually, bad badge engineering is the pistonhead’s pariah. Most adventures in grille-swapping produce soulless cash grabs like the Mercury Monterey and Chrysler Aspen. But some automakers “leverage synergies” in such a way as to respect– dare I say advance– the identities of the brands involved, and produce a genuine bargain. Case in point: the Acura TSX.

The last time Toyota sold sex-on-wheels it came arrived in the form of the flying flagship known as the Supra. The Supra holstered an inline six with twin turbos sending over 300 horses to the rear wheels (335i anyone?). But Toyota’s mid-market meteorologists knew which way the wind was blowing. So they sent their one trick pony car back to the factory to be made into rubber and glue. Now Toyota has two flagships with the combined excitement of rubber and glue: the granola Prius and the grandpa Avalon.

I admire AMG. The German uber-tuners are the world’s largest purveyor of $100k+ automobiles, and deservedly so. Meanwhile, Alpina has been tweaking BMW’s in a similarly monstrous fashion since 1961. Unlike AMG, Alpina remains independent from the corporate mothership upon which it depends (although it builds its models at Bimmer’s factories). Hence Merc sells 25 AMG cars for every Alpina and brings AMG’s to market in strict cadence with their “normal” siblings. Hence Alpina sells Americans their B7, an M7 in all but name, only when they’re good and ready to do so. So now they’re ready. Are we?

Riding in a golf cart to the nether regions of a dealership lot, an aging salesman explained his selling strategy. “Chryslers appeal to either male or female buyers,” he declared through nicotine-stained teeth. “Take the Compass. That’s for the ladies. The Wrangler? Boys’ toy.” As our EV reaches the 2008 Avenger, it's clear that the latest entry in The Dodge Boys' lineup is no purple Barbie Sport Convertible. But does The Avenger deliver the goods, or is “he” an impotent superhero look alike?

A commentator named Peakay recently posed a pointed question: “Do you guys like anything?” While there are plenty of positive reviews hereabouts, I understand Peakey’s frustration. When ttac.com publishes a rash of reviews describing nasty looking, badly built, dynamically dim-witted vehicles, the negativity eats away at this car lover’s soul. Which made the prospect of reviewing the Cadillac XLR-V a daunting proposition. I really wanted to like this car.

Tesla Motors says it's taken 350 deposits for their Lotus Elise-based, lithium ion-propelled, $92k Roadster. Despite this success, Tesla's hyper-exotic may offer more hype than hope. The company won't allow expert evaluation of their product until it's "ready for market." Even before they've delivered a single Roadster, they're promising two additional, mass market electric vehicles– whose enabling technology is, at best, under-developed. Meanwhile, they've raised $60m in venture capital and secured $20m in state subsidies to build a New Mexican factory. To find out if the Tesla Roadster is keeping it real for planet Earth, or DeLorean/Tucker redux, we sent our man Shoemaker to Tesla for a "test drive."

When GM suddenly decided it needed a convincing small car for the US market, Car Czar Bob Lutz scanned his European operations and fixed his once-steely gaze on the next gen Opel Astra. Unfortunately, GM’s bean counters confirmed what common sense suggested: labor costs, transportation costs, unfavorable exchange rates and competitive pricing preclude the possibility of profit. Maximum Bob was undeterred, claiming GM will build the “Saturn Astra” in the US if it succeeds (i.e. loses them lots of money). All of which raises an important question: does the Astra have what it takes to sell stateside?

As far as I’m concerned, Jaguar died the day the suits killed the F-Type. Jag’s prototype Boxster beater had it all: sexy looks, the promise of phenomenal performance and a decent chance of hitting the right price point. But oh no, the American owned company decided to spend its time and money building… diesels. And a badge engineered Ford Mondeo called the X-Type. And estates— sorry, “sportwagons.” So, seven years later, I found myself behind the wheel of Jaguar’s perfect storm: a diesel X-Type Sportwagon. Or, as the Brits say, the dog’s breakfast.

My parents' first new car was a 1970 Montego coupe. They liked it so much they added a Montego sedan to the ranks– just in time to transport this nascent pistonhead home from the hospital. They no longer own a Montego. And soon, no one else will either. At least not a new one. Ford is about to rebadge the current Montego (a gussied-up Ford Five Hundred) a Sable; just as they’re about to rebadge the Five Hundred (the Taurus’ replacement) a Taurus. Which leaves everyone exactly where they started. I think. Let’s take a look.

Opportunity doesn’t always knock; sometimes it breaks down the door with a crash. When my daily driver became the caboose in a rush hour conga line gone bad, I found myself in that placeless place where car reviewers go when the press fleet is permanently out to sea. To the chagrin of Saturnistas everywhere, I passed on the Ion proffered by the perky rental car desk jockey. At the appropriate moment, I gratefully grabbed the keys to a 2006 Mazda3 sedan. The four-door filly had been ridden hard and put up wet, bearing 16k miles. Another TTAC road test had officially begun.

As I closed the rear door of the top spec Cadillac DTS, I watched the side light above my head literally sputter and die. And there you have it: proof positive that the bean counters have been hard at work on The General's luxury brand. You want the lights to slowly fade up and down? Why? Anyway, we don’t have that part. What else you do you need? Actually, despite the death by a thousand cost cuts, the DTS has almost enough upmarket mojo to make it. Only luxury carmaking isn't horseshoes or hand grenades. Almost doesn’t count.