Vehicles Blog

Updates from January, 2012

• Detroit • The role of the “concept” show car used to be so simple. Invariably outrageously sculpted, the concept car was intended to wow audiences into an automaker’s display area so they might then be tempted into one of the company’s less striking but eminently more practical production automobiles. Jet cars, motorcycles with car engines, phantasmagorical off-roaders with gun turrets and not even a hint of on-road practicality were all rendered with the same final destination — the museum or the scrap heap.

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  Then Dodge had the audacity to actually produce the Viper, a totally off-the-wall roadster we all assumed was just the musing of another testosterone-fuelled stylist yet to have his, er, cojones chopped off by the realities of the real world. The world of concept cars was forever changed.

  Now there are concepts just for display purposes, still others looking for public acceptance so that their backers will develop the testicular fortitude to produce them and still others that are concept in name only, the only difference between them and what will hit showroom floors in a few months being the location of the badge and the colour of the inlays in their alloy wheels. Hell, this year, Chevrolet even introduced the “virtual” concept car — two whose final styling it plans to palm off on the social media network as some sort of mass-market focus group trial by Internet.

  Nonetheless, the bottom line is that a concept car must thrill show goers, professionals and consumers alike. And at this year’s North American International Auto Show, the car that did that best was the return of Acura’s evergreen NSX. Never mind that it was the worst-kept secret of the entire show — or that it is unlikely that even the wheels will change before the revitalized supercar goes on sale later this year. And pay no mind to the Hybrid badge on its side, Honda making much of the fact that the car’s 3.5-litre V6 is backed up by an electric motor. The reason crowds of normally sanguine autojournalists flocked to Acura’s booth is that the NSX is just so hot — as in Ferrari, Lamborghini and, yes, even Audi R8 hot. If the new one is at all as technically competent as the original, Acura dealers are going to have to start booking appointments to prevent showroom overcrowding.

  Acura had another so-called “concept” on the floor in the form of the ILX, essentially Acura’s newest entry-level sport sedan. Far funkier than Honda’s stillborn Civic, if Acura futzes with the ILX’s styling at all, it would be very silly indeed.

  Another “concept” almost assuredly heading for production, albeit much later (possibly in 2014), is Volvo’s XC60 Plug-In Hybrid. Though the Swedish-cum-Chinese automaker is late to the hybrid game, it is throwing the entire gamut of fuel-conserving technology hardware into the electrified XC60. First, the four-cylinder engine is a small 2.0L turbocharged unit (à la Ford EcoBoost) with a whopping 280 horsepower. It drives the front wheels through an eight-speed transmission for even more miserly fuel economy. A 70-hp electric motor, meanwhile, drives the rear wheels (making the XC an all-wheel-drive, through-the-road hybrid) and combines with the gas motor for a very impressive 350 hp.

  All that horsepower doesn’t mean poor fuel economy, however. Volvo’s PHEV features three driver-selectable modes — Pure, Hybrid and Power — that allow the driver to tailor the XC60’s performance/consumption balance on the fly.

  Pure is an all-electric mode good for 102 MPGe (miles per U.S. gallon gasoline equivalent) and 50 kilometres of range thanks to a 12 kW-h lithium ion battery. Hybrid combines gas and electric motors for minimal consumption, said to be in the range of 4.7 L/100 km. And Power, as the name suggests, combines the full effect of the 280-hp gasoline and 70-hp electric motors to scoot to 100 kilometres an hour in less than six seconds, fuel economy be damned. Volvo may be late to the party, but the XC60 is an impressive first effort.

  Not (yet) scheduled for production — but it probably should be — is Lexus’ fantastic LF-FC roadster concept. A 2+2 coupe worthy of comparisons with BMW’s 650i and even Mercedes’ SL, the LF-FC is daring in a way we haven’t seen in a long time from a Japanese luxury automaker. The “spindle” grille’s lines are exaggerated to good effect, the side sightlines are classic Euro coupe and the rear end features tail lights that look they should be on an F-16. The LF is a hybrid, although Lexus will not detail the powertrain. We are, of course, hoping for big horsepower to accompany its projected parsimony. Inside, there’s more of the connectivity that’s making the rounds of the Detroit auto show, with an iPad-like tablet built into the Lexus’s centre console.

  Less likely for production but no less comely is the Smart-for-us pickup. Of course, North Americans like their pickups writ large, but the Smart topless roadster is just too cute to ignore, even if the bicycles stored in the display model’s rear bed seem to dwarf the micro car. The for-us is also electric powered, with a 73-hp motor said to accelerate the micro car, er, pickup to 100 km/h in approximately five seconds. Don’t go to your local Mercedes dealers asking when you can buy one — there are no plans for production.

  Yet another twist in the concept format was Chevrolet’s introduction of two cars — the Tru 140S and the Code 130R — it hopes to design by consensus. The 140S is a classic coupe, albeit one with a whole bunch more Italian influence than anything we’ve seen out of Detroit in a very long time, while the 130R looks a little like an original M3 that’s been seriously butched up with massive fender flares and a big trunk-mounted rear wing. Both look to be powered by conventional 1.4L turbocharged Ecotec motors. Less conventional is that Chevy is looking to social media input to further solidify design and content. I’m not sure about this “focus-grouping” of the young; had GM asked me the same questions in my youth, the 130R would have ended up with about a bazillion horsepower, no trunk and speakers the size of a house. Be careful what you wish for.

  But, for the ultimate in futuristic design at the Detroit auto show, you have to head to the displays that cultivate the industry’s future automotive stylists, namely design schools such as the College for Creative Studies and the Lawrence Technological University. Both offer coming designers a forum to display their wares for the established automotive world to see. I can tell you that Lincoln, for one, should take some of their futuristic designers very seriously. With youth comes enthusiasm and, Lord knows, Ford’s luxury brand could use some of that.

  
  

  

  
  2:19 pm on January 13, 2012
   

• Detroit • I’ve adopted an almost foolproof method for determining which movies are worth seeing. It’s really simple — the harsher the condemnation from the critics, the more I am likely to find my $10.50 well spent. Whether it is The New York Times or the Thunder Bay Chronicle-Journal, movie reviews all have one thing in common: They provide more insight into the intellectual aspirations of the critic than an appreciation of the movie itself. It’s not a foolproof system, however. I did have to sit through the first 45 minutes of the original Rambo before I realized it really was a clunker. But I did manage to avoid Avatar and I have never subjected myself to anything by Ingmar Bergman.

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  I suggest the same inverse proportionality law for automotive news and the generalist media. Indeed, as a general rule of thumb, whenever the mass media is hyping something automotive or there’s a consensus of Facebook motoring tweets, the best policy is to ignore it, run away from it or, at the very least, treat it with the greatest of skepticism.

  You’re probably about to read a whole bunch about a new Tata electric car, a concept the Indian industrial giant revealed at this week’s North American International Auto Show in Detroit. The details of the eMO’s performance are unimportant. What will be trumpeted is the amazingly low (for an electric vehicle) estimated price tag of $20,000. “See, it can be done,” will be the crux of the news stories, a collective “I told you so” from the true believers proving the accepted wisdom that all EVs are expensive is wrong.

  Or is it?

  You might remember a similar hullabaloo about two years ago when Tata revealed the original Nano. Changing the face of the automobile industry was the refrain then as the media hyped its sub-$2,000 price tag.

  The big question of the day was how traditional automakers could possibly survive when some little upstart of a company could sell people a car so cheaply. Surely, we — save perhaps the truly moneyed — would also soon be running around in cheap little Indian runabouts. After all, who could resist the lure of a car that costs less than a pair of Florsheim brogues and a light lunch at Le Cirque?

  Well, Indians, as it turns out. Had those proselytizers followed up their initial enthusiasm, they would have found out the Nano is a failure in its own country, current sales running at about one-third the projected 250,000 annual production. (Last September, Tata sold but 1,200 Nanos, hardly what one expects from an econocar in a country with a population of about one billion.) Why? Some critics point to the lack of a diesel powertrain; others report spontaneous fires. But what’s killing the Nano is that it’s too cheap even for Indian consumption.

  Hide-bound North American newspaper reporters may have been amazed by the Nano. Unfortunately for Tata, its intended audience is not. I suspect the company’s concept EV will be more of the same — much ado about the possibilities but precious little focus spent on the realities.

  This pretty much sums up the entire alternative powerplant movement these days. Walk the halls of the auto show and you’d swear there’s some huge pent-up demand for electrified vehicles of any nature. Auto manufacturers are typically the most market-driven of capitalists and this level of dedication would normally indicate a huge consumer demand as yet unfilled.

  Unfortunately, the reality of the green market says otherwise. As this column has detailed previously, there is still precious little indication that mainstream consumers are buying into the green revolution. Hybrids, for instance, have been the darling of the airwaves for more than a decade, yet they only have a toehold in North America. Sales are barely at 2% of all light vehicles sold. (According to auto analyst Dennis DesRosiers, of the 18 million light vehicles Canadians bought between 2000 and 2010, only 58,000 — 0.3% — were hybrids.) Other than Toyota’s success with its extensive lineup of Priuses, there’s been little financial success in the hybrid segment.

  It’s not for lack of effort or sophisticated product, either. Even upstarts such as Kia can brag a truly excellent combination of electric and gasoline motors, but the truth is that the company will sell about 20 times more conventionally powered Optimas than hybrids. BMW introduced a new ActiveHybrid 5 version of its luxurious 5 Series sedan in Detroit. It will assuredly be a marvel of technical innovation and seamless comportment. But, if the success of the company’s ActiveHybrid X6 is any indication, precious few will pony up the extra dollars to save a few litres of premium unleaded every 100 kilometres.

  And what of electric vehicles themselves? Well, both Chevrolet’s Volt and the Nissan Leaf have been on the market for a year. Both are amazingly sophisticated cars. Both offer substantial emissions reduction. Yet, for all their hype and the enormous subsidies governments have thrown at them, they combined for less than 18,000 sales in the U.S. last year and barely 25,000 worldwide, their emissions-reducing frugality barely offsetting the 21,500 extra Porsches — mostly Cayennes — the German sports car maker sold in 2011 compared with 2010.

  Despite all the alternatives revealed here in Detroit, despite all the hype surrounding the electrification of the automobile and despite the incentives governments the world over are tossing around like so much penny candy, there is no green revolution. What consumers really want is conventional automobiles with no quirky habits or driveability compromises that get a bit better fuel economy so they can save a few bucks.

  Consumers are buying fuel economy — emissions reduction, not so much.

  
  

  

  
  1:22 pm on January 13, 2012
   

• Automotive anarchists will be overjoyed. AT&T, Verizon and Rogers executives will be high-fiving each other with unprecedented I-told-you-so fervour. And Big Brother’s safety czars will be in full denial mode, wondering quite why their all-powerful lobbyists didn’t quash these cockamamie studies before they saw the light of day.

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  It turns out that talking on cellphones may not be dangerous after all; or, at least, the current bans on their use are ineffective. Yup, despite all the hype, countless studies and the pontificating by the self-righteously smug that hordes of us are dying because we were all so distracted by our iPhones, it turns out the banning of in-car communications by many jurisdictions (including Ontario) has not reduced accidents one iota. Indeed, there’s a possibility that the restrictions made things worse.

  According to the U.S. Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS), while actual hand-held cellphone usage declined in states that enacted bans, accident rates did not. Indeed, according to a study by the U.S. Highway Loss Data Institute (HLDI), texting bans have actually increased accident rates. The HLDI compared each state’s accident rate before and after the texting bans as well as with neighbouring jurisdictions without any texting restrictions and, according to Adrian Lund, president of the HLDI as well as the IIHS, “Texting bans haven’t reduced crashes at all. In a perverse twist, crashes increased in three of the four states we studied after bans were enacted.”

  Now even a skeptical libertine such as your rules-phobic Motor Mouth isn’t ready to proclaim that texting while driving saves lives. According to the HLDI, it’s not the concept of preventing in-car typing that is driving the seemingly wonky statistics but rather the execution of the ban. In a classic be-wary-of-what-you-wish-for unintended consequence — and, now, this is me being self-righteously smug since I predicted something like this in my original Motor Mouth on Ontario’s ban — drivers are simply holding their smartphones lower to escape detection, resulting in even greater distraction.

  Software that prevents texting in a moving car would seem to be a better solution than driving our automotive communications underground. On-board communications devices that read text messages aloud would also seem to be a solution, though I suspect that truly devoted rules and regulations statists will decry any mobile communications device as the work of the devil. And, of course, that doesn’t address the possibility that talking on a cellphone, hands-free or not, doesn’t appear to be a distraction at all.

  Of course, you’re not going to see massive coverage of these latest studies. They certainly won’t generate as much ink as has been devoted to the horrible consequences as saying, “Yes, dear, I won’t forget the 2%” while driving. We like our 15-second sound bites easily digested, which is why any statistical opposition to the outwardly logical intuition that cellphones are distracting — like any rationally argued contradiction of the “speed kills” accepted wisdom — is unlikely to gain much traction. Besides, “Cellphones not dangerous” is hardly an attention-grabbing headline. The National Enquirer, after all, hardly trumpets “Celebrity dad pays his alimony cheques on time” headlines nor does The Economist make its money with “Hey, the world economy is doing just hunky-dory” cover stories.

  And, indeed, none of this information has prevented the U.S. National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) from calling for a complete ban on in-car cellphone use, hands-free or not. It’s even trumpeting the perfect eyeball-riveting mantra, positing distracted driving “as the new DUI.”

  “It’s becoming an epidemic,” says NTSB member Robert Sumwalt.

  The Safety Board cites statistics that show that, at any given time in work-a-day America, 13.5 million drivers are using their cellphones behind the wheel and that being distracted by Android was the cause of more than 3,000 fatalities last year in the United States. Of course, like so many such headline-generating statistics, one has to consider how they are derived. Unlike drunk driving, which can be established post mortem, how does one ask a dead driver if he was actually gabbing with his girlfriend at the exact moment he drove headlong into that semi?

  What seems to be lost in the entire kerfuffle is any form of common sense. Taking your eyes off the road to text would seem to be a no-brainer as a distraction, though, as noted above, the current ban would seem to be a complete waste of time.

  Ditto having to dial a phone while driving. But a “sound and prudent judgment based on a simple perception of the situation or facts” — the very definition of common sense by Merriam-Webster — would seem to dictate that any argument with your significant other would be equally distracting whether it was via a handheld phone or she was sitting right next to you, yelling in your right ear.

  Let’s see them ban that.

  
  

  

  
  9:00 am on January 6, 2012
   

• You’re a snowbird. If you’re an East Coaster, the destination is Florida. If you’re on the Wrong Coast, it’s probably California. Both are more than 2,500 kilometres away, you have the kids to accommodate, not to mention the significant other’s collection of shoes/scuba gear/really ugly sunglasses. In other words, you need room, comfort and, being the son of Depression-era parents, you’d prefer some co-operation in the fuel economy department.

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  The question, then, is what to drive?

  Of course, one could do the no-brainer and just opt for a minivan: a Honda Odyssey if you’re bucks up, a Dodge Grand Caravan if you’re cheap. Certainly, either would provide the room and comfort part of the equation, though neither will be skipping many stops at the fuel bar. I suppose you could try to pack everyone into a Hyundai Sonata Hybrid, but, while that would fix the fuel consumption issue, man, oh man you would not be on speaking terms with anyone in your family for, oh, the next three years.

  For family harmony and fuel economy (depending on the circumstances), may I suggest Audi’s Q7 TDI. Yes, I know that, at $68,500, it’s a wallet-lightener, but it is a highway cruiser nonpareil. Indeed, this may be one of the best vehicles ever designed for serious long-haul roadwork.

  A word of warning: Shopping the new, supposedly superior Internet way won’t reveal the Q7’s real-world abilities. Indeed, some of its stats are underwhelming. The Q7’s turbodiesel V6, for instance, displaces but three measly litres, hardly the stuff to get excited about. Heck, the Odyssey’s V6 packs another half litre of gasoline-fuelled displacement. The Q7’s maximum hp is but 225, barely more than the aforementioned Sonata Hybrid’s — hardly a model of swiftness and speed at 1,000 kilograms lighter and substantially less than the turbo version of the same car. Dave’s starting to sound full of it, isn’t he?

  On the other hand, there is 406 pound-feet of torque on hand, available as low as 1,750 rpm. Then there’s Transport Canada’s fuel economy rating of 7.7 litres per 100 kilometres on the highway, not quite Prius-like but amazing for a ginormous seven-passenger SUV that weighs almost 2,500 kg and can tow 3,000 kilos (just in case, in a trying-to-sell-ice-cubes-to-Eskimos moment, you’re thinking of hauling a boat all the way down to Florida).

  THE SPECS

  Type of vehicle All-wheel-drive full-sized SUV
  Engine 3.0L DOHC V6 turbodiesel
  Power 225 hp @ 3,750 rpm; 406 lb-ft of torque @ 1,750 rpm
  Transmission Eight-speed manumatic
  Brakes Four-wheel disc with ABS
  Tires P265/50R19
  Price: base/as tested $68,500/$80,450
  Destination charge $1,995
  Transport Canada fuel economy L/100 km 12.3 city, 7.7 hwy.

  Off the spec sheet, the story gets even better. On my cruise-controlled-to-120-kilometres-an-hour trip from Toronto to Ottawa, the Q7 averaged but 8.2 L/100 km. That’s barely above the Transport Canada rating at a substantially higher speed. As I have said many times, diesels come closer than any other powertrain to matching our government’s normally optimistic ratings. Even throttling up to 130 km/h for the return trip only saw fuel consumption increase to 8.9 L/100 km.

  Nor is that parsimony muted by meagre performance. Despite its paucity of horsepower, the 3.0-litre turbodiesel is more than a willing performer. Very willing. Jump off the line and passing cars on the highway is almost equal to doing it in a supercharged Range Rover. Oh, sure, once a 500-hp Range Rover gets up a head of steam, it will leave the Q7 in its wake, but cruising along at a buck-twenty-five and then passing a long semi was a doddle for the oil-burning Q7. Indeed, too often for my licence’s sake, I continually found myself looking down at the speedo to see that the big Audi had crept perilously close to a [former OPP commissioner Julian] Fantino-enraging 150 klicks and I had to back off lest I and my truckload of Christmas presents be persecuted, er, that’s prosecuted, for so-called “street racing.” Audi says the Q7 takes 8.7 seconds to accelerate to 100 km/h; it feels waaay quicker than that. I find that rather mediocre rating one of the most deceiving specifications I’ve ever run across.

  Of course, part of the Q7’s stealth-like speed can be attributed to the turbodiesel’s sophistication. This is on a TDI that is not “smooth for a diesel” or “almost as good as a gasoline engine.” My son was driving the Audi for more than two hours before gleaning — through an off-hand comment — that the Q7 was powered by bunker crude; a good thing because, moments later, he was in charge of fuelling the big beast.

  And that brings up one of two possible drawbacks to diesel ownership. Simply put, it’s a crapshoot as to how clean your fuel pump will be. Unlike fuelling a gasoline-burning engine, there’s a little sliminess involved in filling up a diesel. Real men won’t be bothered but Herself and metrosexuals (and, Lord, when did I become one of them?) will want to be wearing gloves lest their pampered skin become smelly.

  At least we won’t have to be refuelling often. The Q7’s range was never less than an eat-your-heart-out-Nissan-Leaf 800 klicks and, had I chosen to maintain our absurdly low speed limits, I could have probably made it back and forth from Ottawa on a single (100-litre) tank of fuel with just enough diesel left over for the ritual returning of unwelcomed gifts.

  On the downside, the Q7 averaged about 14 L/100 km in the city, not truly terrible but not really much better than a garden-variety large SUV and certainly more than a hybrid powertrain would probably achieve in the same-sized vehicle. Indeed, the deep divide between the Q7’s exemplary rural fuel mileage and its mediocre city consumption (and, of course, just the opposite for hybrids) just reinforces my opinion that the optimal powertrain for overall reduction is a hybridized diesel.

  As for the rest of the Q7, it should come as no surprise that the Audi handles better than the average two-and-a-half-ton sport-utility vehicle. Yes, the suspension is stiffer than the aforementioned pillow-like Range Rover, but it is nonetheless quite expert at isolating the interior from the frost heaves (again, remember those soon-to-be-returned Christmas prizes).

  There’s also a fair amount of room available, albeit when you’re using it as a five-passenger-and-luggage wagon. Try to fit seven inside the Audi and both the third row legroom and the remaining cargo capacity gets a little tight. One criticism I have heard levelled at the Q7 is that it should either grow a couple of inches if it’s going to remain a seven-passenger vehicle or else lose the rear seats and chop a couple of inches off the wheelbase for lighter weight and superior manoeuvrability.

  The Q7’s interior is typical Audi fare, that is to say exquisitely accoutred and ever so slightly complicated. The leather is exquisite and nobody does panel gaps like Audi, but the MMI computer can be a bother and the multi-function air conditioning buttons frustrated a few first-timers. That said, they’re easily manipulated once you get used to them.

  The only place the Q7 turbodiesel doesn’t  excel — at least compared with its direct competition — is in the aforementioned urban fuel economy department. In almost all other ways — especially the room, comfort and highway fuel economy prerequisites I mentioned at the beginning of the test — it offers exceptional performance. That makes it a top-notch kilometre eater. Maybe Audi can add an electric motor to shore up its urban performance.

  
  

  

  
  9:00 am on January 5, 2012
   

• New Year’s is the most two-faced of celebrations. According to ancient lore, Janus is the god of transitions and the concept of the New Year’s resolution begins with all those pagan Romans looking back at the year that had just passed and then promising not to make the same mistakes twice. The more modern version is that, just before we get falling-down drunk (or is that just after?), tradition dictates that we’re supposed to determine what has tormented us for the last 12 months and, gleaning the wisdom of mistakes past, resolve to never repeat them.

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  Of course, the same could be said of corporations. And, goodness knows, there have been plenty of faux pas of a grandiose nature in the automotive world recently. Having a ready answer for everything, your not so humble Motor Mouth suggests the following industry-wide resolutions:

  

  Handout

  The last few years have featured nothing but bad cars, even worse financing and some pretty phantasmagorical projections of its rebirth, says David Booth. But the once proud company is finally filing for bankruptcy.

  To Saab, I say stay down The late, great Joltin’ Joe Frazier was one of the toughest men to ever step inside an 18-foot ring. Maybe too tough. Against the colossus that was George Foreman (Frazier stood but 5-foot-11 versus the towering 6-foot-4 current purveyor of grills), he was knocked down no less than six times in just two rounds, refusing, each time, to quit until the referee ­­­— and most of the ringside observers — could watch no more and called a halt to the fight.

  It’s time for Saab to take the 10-count. Yes, the company was once an innovator. Yes, Made in Sweden used to stand for something. But any view of Saab as a going concern is more than two decades old now, its best years over long before its acquisition by General Motors in 1988. The last few years have featured nothing but bad cars, even worse financing and some pretty phantasmagorical projections of its rebirth. But the once proud company is finally filing for bankruptcy, its saviour of last resort, Zhejiang Youngman Lotus of China, rejected by former owner GM for potential conflict of interest reasons. It really is time to throw in the towel.

  To General Motors, I say listen up Here’s a little pop quiz for all those GM marketing whizzes who think that, because things are finally looking up again, they can become as insular and haughty as The General of old: What is the fastest-growing trend in automotive propulsion besides electrification? The answer: small — usually four-cylinder — turbocharged engines. And who was the acknowledged master of turbocharging? You guessed it: Saab.

  Long before EcoBoost was a twinkle in Dearborn’s collective eye, Saab was giving us high-output, incredibly sophisticated turbocharged four-cylinders. I remember watching, mouth agape, the company’s 1993 introduction of its Trionic engine management system that used feedback through the spark plug to monitor engine performance and emissions. Saab’s emissions control systems were so advanced for their day that you could feed the exhaust of an oil-burning two-stroke Saab 99 into its air intake and the internal-combustion engine would actually clean up the pollution, spewing purer air out its exhaust pipe. If it had listened, GM would be thumbing its nose at Ford, Audi, BMW and Mercedes and all of the rest of the automotive world just now discovering the miracle of forced induction.

  To Honda, I say grow some It’s no mystery that Honda’s perennial best-seller, the Civic, has not been well received. Pretty much universally panned, the 2012 model’s essential problem is that it’s a timid response to challenges that require bold answers. Perhaps, as Honda claims, almost 2,000 parts are all new. But it feels, looks and drives the same. Hence, the less than warm response from critics and consumers alike.

  It is, I suppose, endemic of any car company that is too successful for too long to stay the same. The fear of retrenchment is stronger than the allure of growth. Honda was once the company of the Prelude, CR-X and the NSX. It needs to be that car company again. Thankfully, there are signs the company is getting the message. And not a moment too soon.

  

  Handout

  The 2012 Ford Focus Electric has plenty of apps.

  To Ford, I say grow some (part deux) It’s tough to criticize the darling of the North American auto industry, but, despite excellent sales and the adoration of the mainstream media that seems to forgive any ill because Ford managed to eschew government bailouts, all is not perfect in Dearborn. Yes, it is ecologically correct. Yes, it is to be congratulated for the recent unveiling of a full complement of electrified vehicles — Focus Electric, C-MAX hybrid, C-MAX Energi plug-in hybrid. And, most emphatically yes, its marketing mavens are to be lauded for the best ads in the car business.

  But the untold story is that Ford’s actual cars are pretty run-of-the-mill. No FoMoCo product I’ve tested in the last few years has stood out. There have been no stinkers, it must be said, but neither have there been any home runs. Styling aside, which is yet another strength, Ford seems to be trying to usurp the Japanese stranglehold on middle-of-the-road cars. Ask Honda how that’s working for it.

  

  Handout

  The VW Phaeton! Volkswagen has been on a roll lately, its cars selling like hot cakes even in North America, long a wasteland for VW.

  To Volkswagen, I say cool it Volkswagen has been on a roll lately, its cars selling like hot cakes even in North America, long a wasteland for VW. But, if I were Ferdinand Piech, major-domo extraordinaire of the Volkswagen board, I’d be throttling back on the “we’re going to be Number One” rhetoric (VW is publicly saying it wants to be the world’s top automaker by 2018). For one thing, look at what’s become of the last two Numeros Uno. GM filed for bankruptcy and, then, no sooner had Toyota taken The General’s perch atop the leader board, it, too, imploded, i.e., on fast forward.

  And managing all the diverse brands that make up the Volkswagen Group (what are there 10? 12? 47?) is a serious case of juggling egos and product. Audi engineers were in a serious snit when Volkswagen tried to foist its luxurious Phaeton in competition with their A8. And, more recently, there’s been the rather public divorce between Volkswagen and Suzuki, as acrimonious a split as the automotive world has seen of late. This smacks of spreading oneself too thin.

  To Mazda, I say scream it I’ve already devoted an entire Motor Mouth to Mazda’s corporate mantra. Seemingly kept secret (I’ve only seen it as a banner at Mazda’s Canadian headquarters), it contains such gems as “for people who would rather clean off a little brake dust in exchange for a brake pedal that speaks to their foot” and “We’re enthusiasts. That’s why we race what we build.” And my favourite, “If it’s not worth driving, it’s not worth building.” One might expect such lofty ambitions from BMW, Mercedes or even Ferrari, but Mazda? On the other hand, on any given weekend, more Mazdas are being raced in North America than any other brand of automobile. Mazda needs to remind everyone it’s not just another run-of-the-mill automaker.

  To Tesla, I challenge it to sell it The little electric car may be a media darling, but, in reality, it’s just an overpriced dilettante’s toy to be paraded on Rodeo Drive along with the trophy wife and the owner’s latest $300 cigar find. Oh, yes, the media chimes, it’s a real car because it can speed around a race track as fast as any gasoline-fuelled competitor. The only problem is that you can’t actually drive it to any race track because it doesn’t have enough range to get there! The company has barely sold 1,000 cars and, yet, CEO Elon Musk says he won’t quit until all cars are electric. If that’s not the height of hubris, then I don’t know what is. Oh, and you can throw Fisker under the same bus as well.
  

  

  Graeme Fletcher for National Post

  Ferrari's FF is a station wagon with a V12 engine.

  To Ferrari, I say can it Come on, guys. Surely you know that the new FF is as ugly as sin? My God — and there is really no way to say this politely — it looks like a Volvo mated with a #$%&#% dachshund. Really, did somebody accidentally squish an XC70 in a compactor and then paint it red? This abomination wears the same badge as the Testarossa? As the GTO? For shame!

  Here’s a question everyone involved in the creation of the FF should have asked themselves: If Enzo came back to life right now, would he have approved something so hideous? At least rebadge it something else. Call it a Buick, maybe. Nah, that would be insulting Buick.

  To Maserati, I say can it (part deux) Seriously, you’re going to take a Jeep Grand Cherokee, dress it up all Italian and then sell it for, what, a hundred large? Does anyone really think Jeep’s product portfolio can stretch this far? My Lord, what’s next, an Aston Martin based on a Toyota?

  Oops …

  To Aston Martin, I say fire him Dr. Ulrich Bez, CEO of Aston Martin since 2000, isn’t just a little past his sell-by date, he’s plain old sour milk. Once a towering giant in the engineering department (he oversaw Porsche’s first attempt, pre-Panamera, at building a four-door sedan), Bez is now a walking caricature of the oligarchs — Enzo Ferrari, Ettore Bugatti, et al. — that used to rule the automotive world. He’s defensive to the point of alienation, seemingly remote from his clientele and still peddling old ideas in a new world. A rebadged Toyota/Scion iQ as a $50,000-plus Aston Martin! Seriously now!

  
  

  

  
  9:00 am on December 30, 2011
   

• Audi’s S4 is no BMW M3. It lacks two pistons, about 100 horsepower and much of the snarl that makes BMW’s rorty little pocket rocket such a monster. Ditto Mercedes’ C 63 AMG to which the sprightly Audi sacrifices no less than 3.2 litres of displacement, two pistons and more than 100 hp.

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  • Road Test: 2012 Porsche Panamera S Hybrid

  This is hardly a condemnation of the S4. Indeed, the only people who would make the comparison are those who don’t understand that a) Audi has no intention of the S4 competing with either the Bimmer or Mercedes and b) it has another entire series, badged RS, that is supposed to do battle with the might of M and AMG. (Canada will soon see its first RS product in many a year with the RS5, a monster of a sport coupe with 450 hp worth of V8 sweetness and a torque-vectoring sport differential that makes Audi’s traditional understeer a thing of the past.)

  No, the S4 operates in a completely different sphere, occupying that more practical ground between BMW’s 335i and M3. Indeed, the S4’s only true competitor would be if BMW Canada offered its 3 Series xDrive sedan in 335is guise with the company’s 335-hp version of its iconic 3.0L in-line six as well as an optional M suspension package. The closest competitor is actually BMW’s 135i M Coupe, which shares about the same horsepower and comportment, though it is smaller and lacks the S4’s all-wheel-drive system.

  Call it a semi-sport sedan or a street sleeper, but either way the S4 is neither as flagrantly fiendish as the M3 or as blatantly brutal as the C 63. Instead, the best way to think of the S4 is as mid-way between a 335i and an M3 or between a C 350 and a C 63 if you lean toward the Benz lineup. It’s also a big step up from the base A4 and its 2.0L turbocharged four-cylinder.

  Essentially, Audi liberates the 3.0L V6 and its supercharger from the A7 (and, if you’re into dropping nameplates, the Porsche Panamera S Hybrid), hooks it up to a slick-shifting six-speed manual transmission (a seven-speed dual-clutch S-Line tranny is also offered), stiffens the suspension a notch and then adds some seriously grippy 19-inch radials.

  The big surprise is how easily the 3.0L has morphed into a sporting engine with the addition of a supercharger. Previous Audi V6s have been short on horsepower and even shorter on torque compared with their direct competition. Indeed, for most of the last decade, I have been recommending that prospective A4 owners stick with Audi’s base 2.0T, so little was the advantage of simply adding two cylinders to the engine compartment.

  THE SPECS

  Type of vehicle All-wheel-drive sport sedan
  Engine Supercharged 3.0L DOHC V6
  Power 333 hp @ 5,300 rpm; 325 lb-ft of torque @ 2,900 rpm
  Transmission Six-speed manumatic
  Brakes Four-wheel disc with ABS
  Tires P245/40R18
  Price: base/as tested $57,800/$66,050
  Destination charge 1,995
  Transport Canada fuel economy L/100 km 12.2 city, 8.1 hwy.

  But, with the addition of the Eaton belt-driven blower, the V6 gains all manner of bona fides. There’s 333 hp on tap and, more importantly, 325 pound-feet of torque available as early as 2,900 rpm. Those 325 lb-ft of torque also stick with the program until 5,500 rpm,  meaning that, if you row the six-speed manual just so, you should be able to hit 100 kilometres an hour in about a third of an eye blink (a truly scientific term, by the way, as a typical blink of an eye is about 300 milliseconds) more than five seconds. Or so says Audi. That may not be the 4.5 seconds Mercedes claims for its C 63, but it’s just 0.2 seconds behind the M3.

  In other words, there’s always a healthy sense of surplus power when you hit the gas. Perhaps more importantly, at least for those of use without a private race track in our back 40, any throttle play is accompanied by a growl with far more authority than one expects for a small-displacement six with its pistons arranged in a vee. The tune the S4’s V6 plays may not be the high-rpm banshee of BMW’s V8 or the basso profundo of the Merc’s big 6.2L V8, but it’s still a whole bunch of fun rowing up and down the S4’s gearbox just to hear the 3.0L come on song at about 4,000 rpm.

  That same substantial — but not track-serious — attitude applies to the S4’s handling. On the road, I defy anyone to lament any lack of grip or control. The S4 dips and doodles as much as one can (semi-) legally get away with on public roads. Previous S4s used to be powered by a 4.2L V8 (sacrificed, like so many high-revving naturally aspirated motors, on the altar of fuel economy) and, though it may have lost two pistons, the upside is that the S4 is much better balanced, with only 55% of its weight over the front wheels versus the previous model’s 62%.

  That more even distribution of weight helps account for the S4’s much-reduced tendency to understeer, long an Audi weakness. Also alleviating all that front-end push is the optional Sport Differential, which distributes more power to the outside rear wheel in a process Audi dubs torque vectoring. A bunch of computers, clutches and crown/sun gears vary the amount of power being transferred to which wheel and, unlike so many other technologies that promise much but deliver little, transferring power to the appropriate wheel really does allow the car to hold a tighter line. Even on slippery roads — such as the ice and snow fields soon to be arriving on Canadian roads — the effect is noticeable, with little of the plowing straight ahead that is the usual result of the quattro AWD system’s front-biased weight distribution. Transferring 60% of the engine’s torque to the rear tires (with only 40% going to the front) also helps matters.

  So does Audi’s Driver Select system, which is just a fancy name for a computer that allows the driver to tailor the sharpness of the throttle, steering and suspension. One can choose between three modes — Comfort, Auto and Dynamic — for all three or mix and match settings for each. Throw in three separate settings for the Sport Differential and there’s an almost bewildering array of possible combinations. After playing silly bugger and mixing things up with Sport suspension and Comfort steering, I just left the system in its Auto mode and let the car decide what was in its best interest.

  Perhaps the best thing, though, about the 2012 S4 is that there will soon be a 2013 version, a model Audi says is “refreshed.” And, indeed, there’s a new look to the front fascia, the rear tail lights and some of the buttons inside. But, underneath that skin, where it really counts, the new S4 doesn’t differ very much from the 2012 version. That means, if one shops astutely, there might be a bargain to be had if Audi Canada has to clean out inventory.

  
  

  

  
  9:00 am on December 29, 2011
   

• The Post Driving team has been very good this year, Santa, which is why we have put together our Christmas wish list for you. We realize times are a little tough, so we tried to keep our wishes reasonable; for the most part, the cars we want retail for less than $100,000. In fact, most of us chose frugally, with quite affordable requests. (We’re hoping that you’ll actually grant our wishes, while our greedier colleagues wind up with socks …) Here then are the Post Driving team’s picks for cars we’d like to find in our driveways on Christmas Day:

  DAVID BOOTH: The Editrix always gets mad when she asks me for my Christmas wish list. “A 1982 Honda CB1100RC,” say I without hesitation. “No,” she flusters, “you already have one of those. What would you buy now that you have your precious little Honda?” “Another one,” confound I (and, indeed, I am in negotiations for another one; yes, it’s all but identical).

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  • Motor Mouth: What I want for Christmas

  Nonetheless, the question she really wants answered is “what new car would I buy with my own money?” And since I have already answered that question in at least two articles this year, I’ll simply repeat: a 135i BMW 1 Series M Coupe or a JCW Mini Cooper S.

  I’d buy the turbocharged Bimmer if money were no object or opt for the smaller but almost as frisky Mini if fuel consumption were an issue. That’s what I would buy. What I am buying is another Honda 1100.

  

  Graeme Fletcher for National Post

  The Fiat 500 is not only extremely cute, it's very affordable.

  PATRICIA CANCILLA (A.K.A. THE EDITRIX): Like last year, my favourite ride in 2011 was a gorgeous Italian. Unlike last year’s Lamborghini Gallardo, however, the 2012 Fiat 500 doesn’t cost an arm and both legs. And I actually got to drive this one, not just be ferried around in it (albeit by a handsome Italian …) in Italy.

  OK, it’s not really Italian anymore, as the Fiat is built by Chrysler in Mexico. But the 500 retains its European good looks and driving flair. And it evoked fond memories of Fiats past in my parents’ hearts when I drove it to their house earlier this year. My dad oohed and ahhed while my mom cried out “Il Topolino!” as she ran out to the driveway to get a look at her beloved “little mouse” replica.

  It may not be an exact copy of the 1960s version my mom so adored, but it’s just as cute. I loved everything about it — its beautiful bright red stylish exterior design and clean white leather-clad interior, its modern yet retro charm and its fun-to-drive spunkiness — except for its noisy engine. Upgrade the tiny 1.4-litre motor to something more powerful and less whiney and I’d buy one in a heartbeat.

  Starting at $17,500 for the Lounge version, it’s a bargain compared with other less stylish competitors — not to mention my other, much more exorbitant Italian choice. And some of my colleagues’ choices. I should get points for not being greedy, Santa …

  

  Handout

  There's nothing like the throaty sound of the Mustang Boss 302 to get one's adrenalin pumping.

  CLARE DEAR: Hey, Santa, all I want for Christmas is a new Mustang. Not just any Mustang, though — I want the Boss. And if you can make it a Laguna Seca edition, that’s even better.

  As you know, Santa, I’ve driven some pretty nice cars this year, but, for me, the Boss 302 stands apart.
  True, the opportunity to flog one around Laguna Seca race track may have coloured my impression somewhat — I love playing the video of those laps — but the Boss was also a rush to drive on the road, specifically any road that wasn’t straight. Tossing it into tight turns, grabbing a gear and punching the power pedal to exit, listening to that wonderful small-block V8 wail as the revs spooled up — my senses went into overload.

  I’m dating myself, but no four-  or six-cylinder engine will ever get my adrenalin pumping as fast as a throaty V8. So, Santa, slipping a Boss in my stocking would be much appreciated — and I could even live with the orange paint job!

  

  Handout

  Despite being a truck guy, Howard J. Elmer found the Fiat 500 irresistible.

  HOWARD J. ELMER: I love trucks. That shouldn’t surprise anyone. Yet, this year, my life-long love affair with cargo-bearing conveyances was sidetracked by the cutest anti-pickup imaginable — the 2012 Fiat 500.Earlier this fall, at the insistence of the Chrysler marketing rep, I reluctantly borrowed a brilliant red convertible and was prepared to hate it.

  Actually, for the first few days, only my wife drove it; but the look of it in my driveway finally thawed my resistance to what I’d called a stupid “girlie” car. It grew on me; even though the 500 is small, it’s a stylish, sculpted body that drives bigger than it is — and the interior appointments meld art and function beautifully.

  And it’s fun. You can’t drive this car without smiling! Drop the roof and it’s a picnic any time! Who knew?  Oh, yeah — all this at a price that even my immigrant eastern European mother would approve of.  Hey, Santa, you listening? Howard J. Elmer, National Post

  

  Graeme Fletcher for National Post

  The Kia Rio5 offers a lot of amenities for a low-priced car.

  GRAEME FLETCHER: This has been an interesting year. The list of rides was diverse to say the least — everything from the Mercedes-Benz F-Cell to Porsche’s oh-so-sweet Panamera Hybrid and a real surprise in the form of the Buick Verano. Along the way, I sampled the new all-wheel-drive system that will underpin the upcoming Acura NSX.

  Normally, my Christmas wish would be for something such as the Audi A7, a seductive ride that has it all. However, I opted for something that offers all the amenities I want and need in a car without breaking the bank. The list runs from a heated steering wheel and warmed leather seats to an advanced voice-activated infotainment system that actually gets my accent. All of this is standard fare on a car that costs just a little more than $20,000.

  Of course, the fact it’s fun to drive, has ample room and the utility a hatchback provides sealed the deal for me. My Christmas ride would be the Kia Rio5. Graeme Fletcher, National Post

  

  Handout

  The BMW 1 M Coupe's turbocharged six-cylinder and impressive road manners proved seductive to both David Booth and Brian Harper.

  BRIAN HARPER: Hey, Nick: I would like you to locate the largest evergreen you can find and park BMW’s 1 Series M Coupe under it.

  Although my drive in it was brief, it left a lasting, longing impression. Not since Honda bid farewell to its under-appreciated S2000 sports car a couple of years back have I been behind the wheel of something so innately attuned to the driver (that also doesn’t cost six figures). With 335 horsepower to tap into courtesy of its turbocharged 3.0-litre six and a six-speed manual that is a tight, positive and absolute delight to shift, the 1 M invites vehicular hooliganism at the very whiff of a twisty bit of tarmac.

  With cars soon coming with enough safety backups to all but do the driving for you, this Bimmer is a throwback that demands concentration and skill to get the best from it. I don’t care if it’s as ugly as a bulldog, I want it — badly.

  

  Handout

  The BMW 6 Series Cabriolet has the looks and the power to stand out.

  ANNETTE MCLEOD: I suppose I’ve been a little naughty this year. I didn’t save any money. And I may have taken the car a few (hundred) times when I could have walked. But I still really, really hope for a 2012 BMW 6 Series Cabriolet in the driveway with a big red bow on it.

  I can appreciate the 400-horsepower 4.4-litre twin turbo V8, but I can’t lie (at least not without ending up on the naughty list) — I’m a little vainer than that. It’s just so beautiful. And I love the driver-oriented overhaul to the lush cockpit, as well as the nifty techno-stuff, such as the 10.3-inch screen and head-up display. It’s comfortable, exudes elegance (unlike me, who at this time of year exudes mostly Turtles and eggnog) and offers handling to match its looks.

  I promise, if I get a 6 Series for Christmas, I’ll be double extra-special nice year. Please? Annette McLeod, National Post

  

  Handout

  The Porsche Cayman R is a track demon as well as a formidable road warrior.

  DEREK MCNAUGHTON: The 2012 car I want for Christmas — and drove this year? Easy. The 2012 Porsche Cayman R. I know, so predictable. Another Christmas, another Porsche on the wish list.

  Sorry. It really is time to branch out. Or is it?

  I ask for the Cayman not just because I simply adore all things Porsche but because I’m not supposed to be financing the present, so the Cayman’s $75,600 price tag means I don’t have to weigh the $53,600 BMW 1 M. Had I been lucky to score even 15 minutes behind the wheel of the 911 GT3 RS 4.0, however, well, this would be a different wish list, and my life would be on a different trajectory involving long absences from home and family as various race tracks across the province became as familiar as the stubble on my cheeks.

  The Cayman R, however, delivered such heaping measures of satisfaction I was in withdrawal upon its return, unable to sleep — irritable, longing, hoping Santa, or someone, will return one to my stable.

  
  

  

  
  1:39 pm on December 23, 2011
   

• Automotive journalists’ Christmas wish lists are generally meaningless. Inevitably, the typical car jockey pines for a Porsche, expresses her undying lust for a Lamborghini or is willing to beg for a Bugatti. Besides being boringly predictable, they’re completely unrealistic; most (actually all) writers’ incomes fall well into “99” territory, meaning that we, like most of you reading this column, are nowhere near the special “1-ness” requisite for ever having Santa deliver us the car of our dreams.

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  I like to dream more realistically. Just as there’s no use in me waiting for Angelina to come to her senses and finally leave Brad, there’s little use in fantasizing about Ferrari Enzos if they are destined to remain unattainable all your life. There’s too much frustration in life already — relationships, finances, that idiot manager who keeps on thwarting your best-laid plans to escape at 4:30 — to start adding to the list of things you can’t have. Besides, my personal tastes run far more prosaic. Oh, sure, I enjoy a two-seat roadster as much as the next guy, but I’m more a four-doors-with-a-largish-trunk kind of guy. Practicality might not be sexy, but it does transport the hockey gear.

  Nonetheless, I do like my cars sporting. So, were I given Santa’s complete blessing to wish for my perfect car, instead of just ordering off the rack, I’d petition the really big guy for something bespoke. Nothing particularly fancy because ostentation is not my goal but something tailor-made for the way I drive.

  So, first off, it would be a smallish sedan, something along the lines of an entry-level luxury sedan a la 3 Series BMW or Audi’s A4. Enough size that I can transport four adults in a pinch and stuff all my gym gear in the trunk yet not so large that it feels bloated on a twisty road.

  Since the price of gas is unlikely to go anywhere but up, I am going to opt for a bit of hybridization in my powertrain. Not an ordinary hybrid — which so far have not lived up to their promise of real-world fuel economy improvements — but a plug-in version. Put in a smallish — say three or four kilowatt-hour — Lithium ion battery so the little beast can motor electrically for, say, the first 20 kilometres every day and that will be just enough to get me to work where I can plug that sucker in. On days when I don’t cross town to my gym, that means I might get away with no fuel consumption at all. As for the electric motor, let’s make it a small light one that drives only the front wheels, effectively turning our fantasy vehicle into a more-practical-in-Canada four-wheel drive.

  If the decision to wish for hybridization is quasi-objective, my choice of engines — or at least engine layout — is pure passion. I want an in-line six, still the sweetest engine layout in the business. V8s thrum too much, fours buzz and V12s are only buttery smooth because they’re two in-line sixes joined at the crankshaft. Line up all six of your pistons in a row and you’re guaranteed perfect balance, vibration too minimal to measure and the most delightful sound that can exit an exhaust pipe. And, yes, I know that having all your connecting rods in a row screws up the packaging, but, hey, it’s my car and I like it when the crankshaft is long and the pistons mark a beeline to the front of the car.

  I will add one kink to all this, however. Instead of spark plugs, I’d like my big six with high-pressure diesel injectors. Yes, a diesel. Make mine turbocharged with say about 250 horses, 400 pound-feet of torque and a fuel-sipping seven litres per 100 km fuel economy on the highway. Since it’s my dream, it’ll also be designed and manufactured in Germany, home to all the most sophisticated oil burners. Mate it to an eight-speed automatic and I’m good to go in the powertrain department.

  Inside, my tastes run to back-to-basics simple. I’ll clothe the entire cabin in monochromatic black, eschew any kind of onboard computer complication and really don’t need a million buttons to control everything such as suspension damping or the rate that the radio volume increases as the speeds go up. My two indulgences will be a high-powered stereo to blast the cobwebs out of my ears (or, more accurately out of my cranium at the end of a long day) and a set of searing seat warmers to soothe my ailing back. Wrap it up in a navy blue metallic skin and my dream is complete.

  If you’re a diehard aficionado, you’ve probably noticed that my dream car sounds suspiciously like a garden-variety 335d BMW, albeit with a little boost from some lithium ion. Indeed, my even more fervent wish is that BMW (and others) should stop fooling around with EVs and all these turbocharged engines they’re spreading through their lineup(s). Just hybridify the 335d. At least one autojournalist’s dream would come true.

  
  

  

  
  9:00 am on December 23, 2011
   

• First the good news: Porsche’s new Panamera Hybrid gets excellent fuel economy, especially for a car that weighs more than two tons, is the size of a small luxury liner and purports to be sporty. My overall fuel consumption after more than 1,000 kilometres of mixed city and urban driving was 10 litres per 100 kilometres.

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  • Preview: 2012 Ford Focus Electric

  Even more impressive was the digital fuel economy meter’s readout of 8.0 L/100 km while I had the cruise control set to 130 klicks on the way between Toronto and Ottawa. That’s not quite the 6.8 L/100 km for which Transport Canada rates the Hybrid, but it’s mighty impressive nonetheless and enough to make anyone, even a cynic (that would be, yet again, me), acknowledge that there is some substance to this hybrid stuff.
  The bad news is that I have no idea how I did it.

  Porsche’s version of hybridization is of the parallel variety. There’s an electric motor sandwiched between the engine and transmission, but it can be decoupled from the V6. At least, according to the Panamera’s gauge set, it seems to have little effect; the little histographic readout of gasoline versus electric engine usage, common to all hybrids, shows precious little EV contribution during normal driving. Oh, you can feel the electric motor kick in when you’re pulling away from a full stop and the display says there’s a little extra kick in the pants at full throttle when the kickdown button invigorates the electric motor again, but in most other circumstances, if that little histogram is to be believed, the electric motor doesn’t seem very
  active.

  And Porsche’s claim that the hybrid Panamera can get up to almost 60 kilometres an hour on electric power alone seems like absolute hogwash. The big four-door Porsche will indeed pull away silently using electric power alone, but even my most sensitive touch — usually reserved for the handling of newborn babies and, er, delicate situations — was never enough to get much above 10 klicks before the Panamera’s 3.0-litre gasoline engine started up. And while having the electric motor kick in at full throttle does help the supercharged V6 feel a little more V8-like, it doesn’t help gas mileage.

  The stellar highway economy seems especially baffling. At 130 km/h, the Panamera is essentially running on the motivation supplied by the 333-horsepower 3.0L V6. This is exactly the same motor as drives Audi’s A7, a car almost as large as the Panamera. Yet the Audi did not achieve anywhere near the Porsche’s frugality on the exact same drive. Was I so profligate in the way I drove the A7? Was it because the lesser traffic on the 401 allowed me to rely on the cruise control more? Or is the Panamera’s electric motor making a contribution that its EV display is not showing? I have no idea. All I can say is that the Panamera Hybrid achieved surprisingly good fuel economy under my normally profligate right foot. Even if I am not quite sure why, that’s still high praise indeed.

  There are a few clues, however. One of the most noticeable aspects of the Porsche’s operation is how often the gasoline engine shuts down. Like most hybrids, the Panamera stops internally combusting at stoplights, shutting down the gas engine. But the Panamera takes it a step further, shutting down the engine as soon as you take your foot off the gas. You don’t have to apply the (regenerative) brakes; as soon as you release the gas pedal, the engine shuts down. That means you coast all the way to stoplights. Similarly, the engine shuts down on long hills on the highway. Whether that’s enough to generate such fuel economy gains, I simply don’t know (and I am not going to trust Porsche’s engineers with the question because they, like all automotive propellor heads, make all manner of expansive claims for their technology). On the other hand, the little screen that displays EV operation also has a readout that displays engine-off or “sailing” mode and you’d be surprised at how much time the Porsche spends with its V6 completely inert.

  As for the contention I’ve read from other autojournalists that the combination of electric motor and supercharged V6 effectively emulates Porsche’s V8, I’m a little more skeptical. To be sure, the electric motor’s low-speed torque makes initial acceleration quite entertaining and the Hybrid’s initial jump off the line is quite impressive. Porsche claims it is but 0.6 seconds slower (six seconds in all) than the V8 to 100 kilometres an hour, mighty impressive indeed for something that weighs 1,984 kilograms.

  Full throttle passing, however, isn’t quite as impressive. Porsche claims a total of 380 horses for the Hybrid. With the gas engine contributing 333 of those ponies, that means the electric motor adds 47 more when you mat the throttle deep enough. I didn’t feel it. The Hybrid is plenty powerful. It’s amazingly frugal. But it doesn’t feel as sporting as the Panamera V8. That it weighs some 184 kg more than the V8 surely contributes to its (only) relative lethargy.

  The major problem facing widespread sales of the Hybrid, however, is that its admittedly impressive fuel economy comes at a steep price. A base Hybrid retails for $108,700, $22,100 more than a base V6 (albeit with admittedly less power) and $5,500 more than even the base V8. My test unit’s manufacturer’s  retail price soared to more than $127,000 with options (speaking of which, charging $3,590 for a metallic paint job is just criminal). That would get you a well-appointed Panamera 4S with 430 hp of V8 goodness and all-wheel drive. And, if Porsche Canada ever decides to import the diesel version of its four-door, it will almost certainly be cheaper while being almost as frugal.

  Nonetheless, Porsche’s Hybrid did exactly what it was supposed to do — deliver superior fuel economy — a fact not diminished simply because I’m not exactly sure why it did it.

  Related

  • Preview: 2012 Ford Focus Electric

  
  

  

  
  9:00 am on December 22, 2011
   

• The romantic view of engineering — if indeed there can be such a thing as a romantic view of engineering — is of the brilliant egghead toiling tirelessly in a lonely laboratory, the singularity of his or her genius conjuring up novel and unique ways to make his or her ever-evolving widget better. And, indeed, at the beginning of any engineering revolution, be it the first metal sword, the first airplane or the cars that are the subject matter of this column, the engineering world is full of ill-conceived contraptions as the adventurous but often misguided struggle to illuminate what is, at the beginning of any development cycle, a very long and dark tunnel.

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  Of course, if this is a soap opera, the script has to devolve into the romantic notion that (pardon my Ayn Rand) the purity of the singular genius is continually being thwarted by an evil collective. Thus, Charles Nelson Pogue’s infamous 100-miles-per-gallon carburetor was quashed by the might of the oil companies, Ferry Porsche’s iconic 911 has been supplanted by Cayennes and Panameras thanks to a committee of share-price-obsessed bureaucrats, and automobile design has become stodgily homogeneous because the large automakers are all in cahoots.

  In reality, the homogeneity that purists so despise in modern automobile design is just the historical cycle of engineering development. At the birth of any technology, there are no rules, no guidelines and few expectations. Since whatever our mad genius is slaving over has not been done before, he or she can’t look back on previous developments, her or his drawing board literally the proverbial clean slate.

  Of course, those same scientists, if they are at all competent, quickly dismiss failure. Engineers are nothing but clever backyard inventors who simply keep on trying different widgets until one doesn’t explode. (Thomas Edison is said to have tested thousands of potential fibrils before “cottoning” — almost by mistake — on to the carbonized bamboo filament that became the first successful light bulb.) The more brilliant — and, one presumes, successful — of minds quickly rejects the cockamamie and hones in on the probable. Throw in 100 years of failure, the processing power of supercomputers to weed out the improbable as well as constant refinement and what one gets in the “mature” phase of engineering is a general consensus on what works and what doesn’t. Compare any current technology — be it airplanes, automobiles or even the relatively new world of computers — to the same products in their infancy and you will find an incredible sameness to the modern as countless engineers rejected the mistakes of the past and converged on consensus.

  The perfect automotive example of this evolutionary conformity is the recent introduction by BMW and Mercedes-Benz of small turbocharged fours in their entry-level luxury sedans. Once an idea singularly championed by Audi with its 1.8 and 2.0T fours, both BMW (in the X1, 328 and now 528) and Mercedes (C250) have abandoned their classic engine designs — normally aspirated in-line and vee sixes, respectively — for these same small turbocharged 1.8- and 2.0-litre engines.

  The reason for this conformity is simple and essentially the same whenever any previously diverse product range becomes homogenized: The criteria set before the engineers became increasingly specific. In the case, for instance, of the 3 Series, C-Class and A4, all faced the same challenge — retain their previous powerful performance while meeting new, very specific fuel economy standards all without complicated and expensive hybrid or diesel technology. The key word in the previous sentence is “specific.” Chances are that, had all the manufacturers simply been challenged to achieve the best possible fuel economy for real-world conditions, their solutions might not have been so uniform. Each might have accessed its customer’s needs differently and come up with a different design.

  But the fuel economy criteria that these engines were designed to meet are far more precise. Regulations governing fuel economy, it must be noted, are precisely defined test cycles that favour engines economical under light load conditions (low throttle openings at relatively low speeds), a forte of turbocharged engines. Whether these engines might actually improve real-world fuel economy appears to be incidental — or, at least, a secondary criterion. A cynic might even postulate that, like American high school curriculums, these new designs weren’t actually designed to improve the breed but rather pass some very specific tests.

  And I think we can expect many more of these turbocharger-based solutions from our German friends. BMW is already in the process of dumping all its signature high-revving naturally aspirated engines from its M cars in favour of equally powerful but more EPA- and Transport Canada-friendly turbocharged variants. Audi already uses relatively small-displacement supercharged engines for its S-line and Mercedes has already started reducing the displacement of some its AMG models and slapping turbochargers under the hood.

  That all three German luxury marques — Mercedes-Benz, BMW and Audi — have converged on exactly the same solution is simply the result of very specific requirements demanding a very specific solution. French philosopher François de La Rochefoucauld famously proclaimed that hypocrisy was vice’s tribute to virtue. Had Monsieur de la Rochefoucauld been an engineer instead of an autodidact, he might have instead noted that conformity is the price engineering pays for evolution.

  
  

  

  
  9:00 am on December 16, 2011