Buy a Toyota Prius and you get a backup camera, keyless ignition, iPod integration and travel over 50 miles for every gallon of gas poured therein. Buy an Audi RS4 and you don't even get self-dimming mirrors, and you can only drive 11 miles per gallon of dead dinos (EPA notwithstanding). The Prius will set you back $25k. The RS4 costs three Prii. At freeway speeds, the Toyota is a near silent and comfortable cruiser, whereas the Audi sounds and feels like a volcano making love to an avalanche.

If I worked for Infiniti, I’d spend a lot of my day pissed off. Infiniti G35 equals The Japanese BMW? Man that must rankle. Not as much as G35 equals The Poor Man’s BMW, but more than enough to aggravate auto execs all the way from Yokohama to Boulogne-Billancourt. In fact, I bet there’s a bunch of Infiniti engineers who’ve compared their handiwork to Munich’s motorized meisterstuck and can’t decide whether to commit seppuku or hunt down Bimmer’s boffins and make them eat sushi, if you know what I mean. OK, that’s a bit overly-dramatic, but what the Hell’s a Japanese sports sedan got to do to get a little respect around here?

What became of the ninth-generation Lincoln Mark series? Somewhere in the Lincoln brand's twisted nomenclature there is a missing link: a connection between the rip-snorting Mark VIII and Lincoln’s cute-ute Mark X. I mean MKX. While no one at Lincoln's brand-awareness roadshow bought this Houstonian's sly attempt to realign the disjointed Mark series, they still handed me a set of keys to their latest crossover vehicle and told me to go play. Well fair enough.

No vehicle represents America’s can-do spirit as authentically as the Jeep Wrangler. Born from the conflict that defined our Greatest Generation, the Jeep embodied our nation’s core values: simplicity, honesty and never-say-die durability. That was then. Now, not one but two badge engineered CUV’s are dragging the Jeep brand’s hard-core off-road rep through the [ankle deep] mire. Which puts a lot of weight on the ’07 Wrangler Unlimited’s elongated shoulders. Does the new Wrangler have enough talent and gumption to make up for the sins of the sons?

I remember the day my Dad brought home a brand new ’66 Barracuda. While such an auspicious automotive occasion would make any Sting Ray-riding nine-year-old pop a wheelie, the ‘Cuda arrived on the same day The Green Hornet made its TV debut. Both productions proved equally fantastic. Plymouth’s fastback was an effort to sex-up their Valiant sedan with the equivalent of a low-cut party dress. Trouble was, the girl underneath was someone you could only really appreciate for her personality. How times have changed. To wit: the Mazdaspeed 3, an example of what today’s boffins can do with a basic economy car.

The Chicago Mercantile Exchange just announced that it is merging with the Chicago Board of Trade Company to create a “juggernaught” in the world derivatives market. These markets allow farmers to hedge their bets, insuring their crop at a given price for a future harvest. Automakers have no such luck. They pour billions of dollars into developing a product and gamble that it will succeed in the market place. Recent Death Watchee Ford has made such a gamble with its new crossover vehicle, the Edge. Some say it must sell, or FoMoCo will bust out. Ford’s betting the proverbial farm on red. But is the Edge a sure thing?

Off-road capable SUV’s are an increasingly rare breed. More and more of our roads are occupied by SUV look-a-likes that can hardly ford a burst water main or clamber over a vicious pothole– never mind tackle the great American outback. Flying in the face of this trend towards soft-roaders and CUV’s, Toyota recently launched their mud-plugging, rock-crawling FJ Cruiser. Huh? The carmaker responsible for more “cute utes” and hybrid half-breeds than any other now wants to mix it up in the rough stuff? No wonder the Japanese automaker invited TTAC to run one of their rigs at a two-day mudfest in Mount Olive, Alabama: Toyota's dirt cred needs a little help.

As part of the evaluative process, I cracked open the ES350's owner’s manual. Check it: there’s a "Lemon Law Guide" to help customers find legal recourse should their Lexus fail to, well, anything. Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be a particularly useful part of the program. After all, under its swanky skin, the Lexus ES350 is little more than a reliable, durable and, let’s face it, forgettable Toyota Camry. Does that make the ES350 an example of the kind of badge-engineering that this site regularly condemns as lazy, cynical and brand corrosive? No, no and yes.

“It handles like a go-cart.” For the past five-years I’ve taken this description of the BMW’s born-again clown car’s dynamics at face value. Living in Los Angeles, I’ve seen more of these faux-Brits than Carnaby Streeters ever did. And I’ve often wondered if the MINI was small and extraordinarily nimble like its forbearer, or just plain small. Other than sipping cheap wine next to the trio of stunt cars used in the third Austin Powers movie, I’d never had a chance to get up close and personal with a MINI. More importantly, I’d never put the British-built roadster’s handling to the test– until this week, when RF charged me with the task of assessing the “old” new MINI before the “new” new MINI arrives stateside.

During my soujourn on the other side of the pond, I was delighted to score an early drive in the new CL550. Unfortunately, my enthusiasm was somewhat blunted by the French Mercedes salesman’s incessant questioning. He kept interrupting my concentration to ask me how to adjust his seat massage system. Then, thanks to his oafish fiddling with the car's COMAND navigation system, I was distracted by a computerized frenchwoman ordering me to make a U-turn s’il possible. I contemplated pulling over sur le grand-rue to garrote both of my companions, but I couldn’t find a Parisian parking space of sufficient enormity to berth the German dreadnought. Tant pis pour moi.

General Motors is at it again. After failing to flog captive imports from Opel, Isuzu and Suzuki, The General’s drafted in Daewoo to give Chevy’s “American Revolution” something to sell. Considering GM’s lack of success with captive imports in the past, and Daewoo’s Titanic troubles in the US market, you have to wonder about RenCen’s reasoning vis-à-vis the rebadged machine known on this side of the Pacific as the Chevrolet Aveo. Has GM made yet another logistical mistake, or will they have the last laugh as vendors of the only domestic nameplate selling a high-mileage subcompact car in the US?

Rabbits are renowned for their reproductive skills. Clever ads for Volkswagen’s long anticipated A-platform hatch show city-dwelling Rabbits multiplying by the dozens. Ironically, the tiny population of US-bound Volkswabbits is hardly bound to satisfy demand, never mind dominate the landscape. A prospective buyer is lucky to sample Wolfsburg’s new bunny prior to placing an order, and then faces a wait of around 60 days. VW dealers couldn’t care less; nurturing understandably impatient leads is hardly worth the pennies of revenue it generates. So, with lukewarm fanfare, scarce availability and laughable profit, the Rabbit is back.

The English say it’s horses for courses. The French say it’s horses for main courses. And the German say it’s horsepower uber alles Schätze. Well, everyone except Porsche. Since ’96, Stuttgart’s parsimonious power brokers have restricted their entry level Boxster’s engine so as not to steal big brother Carrera’s thunder. Porsche’s policy stands in direct contradiction to Mercedes and BMW, who happily pump-up the volume on vehicles that need more speed like an obese caffeine addict needs a bottle of Black Beauties. That’s just mean; the Boxster deserves proper motorvation. And now, finally, it’s got it.

Remember the dorky kid who aced college, landed a great job, maybe even got married, but still never got a firm grasp on how to enjoy life’s rich tapestry? That’s the Lexus GS450h. For all its hybrid gee-whiz engineering, swanky trimmings and performance credentials, the Lexus GS450h is only really a great idea on paper. Sure, it’s got lower emissions, less fuel consumption than its petrol-powered equivalent and significantly more performance. But the Lexus Hybrid is a genius in dire need of a spiritual advisor.

The styling tells the story with its bold lines, broad shoulders and stunning lack of attention to detail. Up front, the GS’ trapezoidal grille– flanked by ovoid lenses and rhombus-like headlights– inflict geometric overkill on an otherwise cetacean canvas. Sadly, the GS' tall frame kills an otherwise sporting profile; everything south of the beltline looks obese and clumsy. Fortunately, multi-spoke 18" hoops with chrome accents help avert your eyes from the plump yet stunted posterior with its B-movie bug-eyed taillights. Clearly, the "L-Finesse" GS needs Giorgio Giugiaro’s loving hands.

In contrast, the GS’ interior is a symphony of chrome, leather, ebony wood and white LED accents. The cockpit’s squidgy polymers and tastefully arranged switchgear offer the automotive equivalent of a relaxing swim in an edgeless pool. In Audi and Lexus' sybaritic showdown, the Japanese automaker is gradually pulling ahead. For example, while the A8 serves-up an exquisite dash and console combo, Lexus' cohesive design motif delivers a perfectly layered, multi-dimensional gestalt. Audi’s dash may seem like it was carved from a single piece of granite, but Lexus’ seems lovingly sculpted from the same stone.

The GS’ sensuous wood and leather tiller alludes to the brand’s trademark perfectionism. Smoked disco ball gauge faces add a bit of visual excitement to the borderline OCD. The Mark Levinson beatbox adds brilliant highs, life-like middles and full-bodied lows– setting the new standard for factory tunes. The GS’ ventilated hides keep the backside cool, but finding the right fan speed involves one too many menus via the (otherwise excellent) touch-screen Navigation system. And that’s where the GS450h picture starts to lose focus.

Check out the mileage on the Lexus hybrid’s information screen. In urban stop/start duty, the GS’ gas engine kicks in frequently and abruptly, taking over from the batteries. With the Levinson blasting and the A/C cranked, the GS450h's mileage never once threatened to get out of the lower twenties. Lower the A/C, hit the open road, set the cruise control to 65mph and you’re looking at… 25mpg. This is not what a Prius driver would call a hybrid halo car. OK, so the Lexus is a “performance hybrid.” All is forgiven, right?

If you’re a straight line junkie, yes. Acceleration is muscle car brisk. Hit the GS’ gas from a standstill and the torque-rich electric motor satisfies with a shove in the seat and a hum under the bonnet. After a brief powerband intermission, the CVT transmission throws the rev-happy 3.5-liter V6 in the mix, facilitating 0-60 runs that last a scant 5.2 seconds. Keep your foot in the juice and the CVT pushes the engine closer to redline, catapulting the GS down the highway.

Now, throw a corner at the GS and you’ll understand why Lexus won’t let you give the electronic Nanny the afternoon off. Everything's peachy at 70% effort. The sedan’s delightfully firm steering, solid chassis and buttoned-down suspension let you run the hybrid through the twisties like an equivalent Bimmer. Push harder and the various subsystems start to fight for control. The traction control incorrectly modulates the finicky powerband, inducing all-you-can-eat buffet levels of understeer, triggering stability control. Diehard pistonheads are done before they begin. 

The large disc brakes feel a bit touchy– charged as they are with regenerating power as well as curbing momentum– but they stop the “fun” with genuine conviction. Unfortunately, dropping anchor at speed induces massive nosedive, which dramatically increases the chances of an understeer slide. Worst of all, the flawed underpinnings throw the famous Lexus ride in the trash, shaking the rearview mirror at every pothole. The 40-series tires take most of the blame, transmitting every surface imperfection directly to one's posterior. Top it off with a Porsche-sized cargo hole and the GS Hybrid's synergies seem less than entirely appealing.

Forget about the GS450h’s poor ride/handling balance (if possible) and consider the model’s real competition: the superb V8-powered GS430. Lexus’ gas-only model offers a perfectly linear powerband, a world-class autobox, 400lbs less in tow, better handling and a bigger trunk. The penalty: three to five miles less travel per gallon of gas and no planet saving feel-good factor. Like the childhood genius who struck it rich, the GS450h proves that appearances can be deceiving. Whether you’re a hybrid sedan or a Geek, developing genuine character is a bitch. 

[Lexus provided the vehicle reviewed, insurance, taxes and a tank of gas.] 

There are three basic ways you can build a low-priced automobile. You can use lower-cost materials (and workforce). You can limit the standard features. Or you can keep variations to a minimum. When making the Rio, one of the lowest priced cars sold in American, Kia employed all three strategies. Is that a good thing? It depends entirely on where you draw the line between “cheap” and “inexpensive.”