If any mainstream brand can build an SUV that handles like a sports car, it’s Mazda. The Japanese automaker has a proven track record of developing vehicles with superior agility and dynamic appeal. Little wonder that ads for Mazda’s new CX-7 imply that it drives like a sports car, and that most junket-based reviews of the new “crossover” verify the claim. Well, I’ve driven the CX-7 and I’ve driven sports cars and the CX-7 is no sports car.

During a business trip to Canada, my manager and I watched a Swedish colleague use his cell phone to hold a three-way conference call with Tel Aviv and Hong Kong. The boss was infuriated; his US cell couldn’t even reach Toronto from Toronto. He called Sprint on a land line. "This is unacceptable,” he screamed. “It’s un-American to sell technology that’s seven years behind the Europeans!" The exact same thing’s been said about Detroit’s inability to counter fuel-sipping low-emission hybrids.  Enter, finally, the Mercury Mariner Hybrid. Ah, but is the gas/electric Merc ready for prime time or is it just a Johnny-come-lately phoning it in?

The Mercedes E550 is like one of those gently aging character actors that everyone recognizes but no one can name.  I guess the fact that Mercedes put over a million of E-Class sedans on the road in the past four years may have a little something to do with it.  Either that or the brand’s reacting to Bimmer’s Bangling and their own S-Class blingery by maintaining the E’s arch conservatism.  While understandable, I’m not so sure that the mid-sized Merc's generic good looks and mild-mannered charisma are such a good thing…

When you punch the Pontiac Solstice’s go pedal to the floor, you can almost hear that great Les McCann/Eddie Harris tune “Compared to what?”  Normally, the Solstice is compared to the Mazda MX5 or its twin-under-the-skin, the Saturn Sky– which is a bit like comparing Heather Graham to Sarah Michelle Gellar and Salma Hayek.  While it's clear that the GM cars have more visual appeal than the Japanese roadster, looks can be deceiving.  Has GM “made it real,” or is the Solstice just playing a part?   

Tribute bands are a beautiful thing: talented musicians who use their artistic gifts to duplicate other people's creativity and style for stupid easy money.  Toyota’s full-size Tundra pickup is cut from the same cloth.  Much like your favorite KISS wannabes, the big T's truck earns its keep by imitating Detroit’s core competency.  Supposedly, that ain’t enough; US pickup truck buyers are thought to be more brand loyal than Queen fans (if you pardon the reference).  So does the Tundra have what it takes to evoke the masters and rock the house?

Years ago, I found myself killing time in a London wine bar.  An English gentleman and I were busy amusing ourselves with fine wine and, um, English food when a pair of extremely attractive unattached ladies strolled into the bar. Uninhibited by the best Bordeaux, we enticed these French beauties to join us at the bar.  The women eventually escaped our charms to establish base camp at their own table.  I continued to stare longingly at our lost companions– until one of them stretched her arms above her head to reveal unshaven underarms.  The Nissan Versa was like that.  

If you want to judge a restaurant, don’t order the chef’s specialty.  Go for the hamburger or the omelet.  If the man in the funny hat prepares these prosaic dishes with the same passion he puts into his Suprème de Turbot Rôti aux Asperges Vertes et à l'Ail en Chemise, you have a winner.  The same applies to cars.  If you want to judge an automaker’s prowess, check their basic models.  Scope the ones with standard engines and base interiors that hide in the back of the lots.  A few miles behind the wheel tells you more about the manufacturer’s passion for product than anything their spinmongers could ever publish.  Which brings us to the Impala LS. 

Despite Toyota’s “when does a car become more than a car” zenvertising, Camry folk treat their rides like a household appliance: use, admire occasionally, forget.  For the 2007 model year, America's favorite four-wheeled conveyance has become… a stylish appliance.  That said, the new Toyota Camry is no Sub-Zero ‘fridge or Dyson upright.  For all its extensive improvements, the model has sacrificed much of its traditional depth of character on the altar of style and profit.  In fact, the new Camry raises an important question: has the perennial mid-size sales champ finally let down its guard? 

The moment I dropped the hammer on the Porsche Cayman S, an entirely unexpected emotion welled-up inside: fear.  I was holding the wheel of the world’s best sports car on a perfectly-groomed country road and I couldn’t fully commit to a corner.  I wasn’t afraid of crashing— the Cayman is far too accomplished and forgiving and electronically mindful for that.  I was afraid of the unknown.  What if some dumb ass pulled out of a hidden drive without looking?  What if a child’s bike suddenly appeared just beyond the apex of a turn?  My sightlines were good, but my nerves were shot.  I suppose that’s what happens when you spend too much seat time in a Honda Odyssey.  

My first car was a Pontiac Parisian Safari station-wagon. Not only could it cruise I-5 all day, but I once hauled eleven people and a drum set from Sonoma County to Sacramento and back. When one of the cylinders lost compression, the attempted engine rebuild was a testimony to the strength of our relationship. Before the block cracked, the Safari provided my family, friends and I with nearly three hundred thousand miles of motoring bliss. Sadly, the SUV craze and seat belt legislation killed off the full-size American station-wagon. Aside from the chop top, third row deficient Dodge Magnum, Ford’s Freestyle is the closest the Big 2.5 has come to reviving this classic, all-American ride.

They come from around the world to duke it out in the US of A: mid-size sedans from Germany, Japan and South Korea.  Each arrives armed with a unique selling point: German engineering, Japanese quality and South Korean value.  Their upbringings differ but their mission is the same: capture the hearts and minds of Middle American car buyers– and keep them.  The clear winner in this automotive Battle Royale is the American consumer, who’s never enjoyed so much quality and choice for so little money.  Meanwhile, once stalwart American brands and models are falling by the wayside, as their “foreign” competition continues their ceaseless campaign for mid-market hegemony.  One such victim is the Buick LaCrosse CXL. 

Last Wednesday, Standard and Poor’s downgraded the Ford Motor Company’s credit rating.  “We expect the company's financial profile to weaken further during 2006,” S&P declared. “A period when the US economy and U.S. light-vehicle sales are robust."  So, good market, bad products.  After spending a week driving an Explorer Sport Trac, I’m inclined to agree.  Any automaker misguided enough to try to sell this vehicle in the world’s most competitive light truck market is heading for a fall.  

It's hard to believe that The Morgan Motor Company is the last great– great?– English automobile maker.  Here we have a company that still builds its cars out of wood, whose 19th century business practices were famously and shamelessly lampooned by an English TV business doctor (and peer), that makes roadsters that look genetically predisposed to leak, fall apart and short-out.  And yet, while Rolls Royce, Jaguar, Aston Martin and Bentley all follow marching orders from foreign lands, there's still a British gentleman named Morgan running Morgan.  What's more, their throughly modern motor car, the Aero 8, has been firing on all cylinders for six years, and you can buy one in the colonies.  So, what say we take the old girl out for a spin…

Let’s get this out of the way: the Jaguar XK8 is a grill-challenged automobile.  It's as if Ford sent all their leftover Taurus grills to the UK and then leaned on Jaguar engineers to find them a home.  Or maybe the XK8’s grill was intended as a comeuppance; a punishment to the brand’s designers for daring to create a “new” car that borrows so heavily from their up-market British cousin’s two-door. Or maybe the wide mouth bass grill is all about brand differentiation; a stylistic non-flourish designed to ensure that no potential buyer confuses the Jaguar XK8 and the Aston Martin DB9.  Now if someone had grafted the front end of a BMW 650i to the XK, we might have had something…

Electra Waggoner Biggs was born a Texas cattle and oil man’s daughter, but left the Lone Star State for Bryn Mawr, Columbia and the Sorbonne.  Upon her return she became a revered sculptress, best known for her work “Into the Sunset,” memorializing cowboy actor Will Rogers.  In 1959, the President of Buick (and Electra’s husband’s brother-in-law) named a flagship sedan after the middle aged Texan.  Today's Buick Lucerne is named after a quaint Swiss tourist trap, with only a failed peasant’s revolt to its name.  And there you have it: Buick has tossed away decades of brash Americana for subdued Euro-style.  That's beyond stupid.