Soccer moms never had it so good. Introducing the all new Mercedes R500. We just spent a week hauling people and stuff around in the slickest six-passenger vehicle on the market, and we figure this vehicle should be on everyone’s shopping list once baby number three is on the way.

The R-Class is an all-new Mercedes series; plugging a hole at the upper end of the ‘progeny-prolific’ consumer market segment.

With a footprint that’s actually an inch longer than the flagship S-class, that the R500 boasts a smooth ride is no surprise. The assured handling characteristics, however, do raise eyebrows. The chassis is as stiff as a bank vault, and 255/55 rubber wrapped around 18″ rims give great grip-it’s a real thrill blasting past similar-sized but slower minivans and SUVs with complete confidence.

Blasting past pretty much anyone is easy in the R500. As the nomenclature suggests, the powerplant is a 5.0-liter V8, boasting 302 horsepower and 339 lb./ft. of torque. We clocked the 0 to 60 m.p.h. run at 7.6 seconds; the subtle growl of the exhaust adds a little bark to the R500’s bite. The R350 comes with a 268-horse V6; we’ve driven that model briefly as well, and found it doesn’t lack for grunt, either.

The R500’s sportiness factor is further enhanced with a couple of electronic gadgets as well. The Airmatic suspension is adjustable; stiffer shock-absorber response is a button-touch away. The seven-speed automatic also has a sport setting, offering crisper shifts at higher shift points-or you can shift yourself via buttons mounted behind the steering wheel’s spokes. Although most family chauffeurs will leave both systems in the Comfort setting when delicate passengers are on board, the ability to change the car’s character so easily will surely make the most of those moments alone behind the wheel.

The question of what exactly it is we were driving this week did cross the editorial mind, of course, whether we were tranquilly trucking the family around or really wringing it out on a solo run. The basic shape is that of a minivan, but even beyond the frantic insistence of the Mercedes PR flaks, we found or out reasons to eschew that descriptor. For one, it lacks sliding rear doors, and it’s not tall enough to walk around in-plus, who ever heard of a minivan that was this much fun to drive? The R-Class does have its share of SUV characteristics-standard all-wheel-drive, for instance-but it doesn’t really fit in this category, visually. It’s probably closest to a wagon, but then again, it’s not based on any one of the Mercedes sedan lines. In surrender, we could call it a segment-buster, or a crossover, we suppose…but in truth, it seems the R-Class has done what so many other new cars can only claim to accomplish-it’s created a whole new segment. Mercedes calls it a “sports tourer,” and since they’ve pretty much created the segment, we suppose we’ll have to acquiesce.

Like any family-friendly luxury ride, in any segment, the R500 boasts more than its share of toys. Although they’re becoming commonplace now, the nav system is one such piece of electronic frippery, especially since Mercedes’ unit lacks a touch-screen on the plus side, the DVD database includes more than the usual information, including listings for most local restaurants and hone numbers so you can call ahead.

One of our favorite new innovations in the luxury-car world today is the keyless starting system-and Mercedes’ ‘Keyless Go’ execution of the concept is perhaps the best we’ve seen. The standard fob sits in your pocket or purse, giving off a signal that unlocks the car doors as you pull the handle, and allows for starting the engine with the push of a single button. This makes getting in and out, and on the road, a seamless process-and makes locking your keys in the car an impossibility. A standard metal key is provided in case of battery drain.

An interesting discovery we made concerned a rather low-tech, if well-hidden, convenience in the one-size-fits-all front cupholders. Pull up on the card-holder in the middle, and a bottle opener is revealed. There’s no mention of this feature in the owner’s manual (at least not in this lawsuit-happy country of tough DUI laws), and we guess many owners will never even find it. Still, it’s pretty neat.

For sun worshippers, the R-Class features a trick panoramic glass roof, made up of two huge glass panels over almost the whole passenger compartment. A motorized sunscreen can be deployed to deflect the sun’s rays, giving a creditable impression of a simple hard-top-or, in more temperate climes, the front glass panel can be retracted over the rear at the touch of a button, to create one of the largest sunroofs in automotive history.

The front seats in our testers were themselves gadgets. An optional $780 “multi-contour” seat package adds adjustments for lumbar support, firmness, and side bolstering. A complicated switch pod sticking out of the seat’s fronts controls the air bladders inside, allowing you to tailor the support perfectly.

There’s plenty of gadgetry to keep rear-seat passengers occupied as well. Most notable is the entertainment system, which gives passengers in the second row two screens on which to watch DVDs or play an external video game system, and headphones with which to listen to their own audio or video selection. The second row also features heated seats, and its own climate control system.

The audio system is one to be proud of, too, and not just because it can broadcast three different programs to three different listeners at once. The sound is concert-hall quality, with a subwoofer over the spare tire for added bass response. Sirius satellite radio is integrated in, and can be accessed from either rear station even when not in use up front. And the single-CD slot, hidden behind the nav screen, is complemented by a 6-disc changer in the glove box-which itself hides away to make more space.

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The rearmost seats, in the third row, have to make do with the tactile comforts of top-quality leather, a couple of cupholders, and leg-, shoulder- and head-room that’s actually suitable for small adults. They lack seat heaters and their own climate control zone, although there are vents back there. Even the windows don’t go down, although they are on motorized hinges, controlled from the driver’s seat. No gadgets here, so make the most of this space by assigning it to your least-favorite friends, strapping baby-seats in (via the LATCH tethers), or folding them down for more luggage space.

Axiomatically, the very presence of so many electronic and hydraulic systems on board makes the likelihood of a breakdown much higher. Although Benzes are known for mechanical prowess, these automotive extras have recently claimed a toll in total reliability, and our tester was no exception. The motorized trunk hatch, which can be closed and opened by way of a button on the driver’s door or key fob, often failed to close securely without a shove, meaning the interior lights would stay on after we used the system, until we jumped back out to slam it shut ourselves. Another niggle-the sun screens in the rear door were a neat touch, but sometimes wouldn’t retract fully without encouragement-like an old tape measure.

Space is one selling point for the R-class-and not just for people. Even with all the seats up, there’s over 15 cubic feet of cargo room-comparable to a good-sized sedan. Fold the third row, and you get 42′; fold the middle row for an astounding 85′. A 4′ by 8′ sheet of drywall will fit easily back there-although the carpeting is probably too nice to take the risk.

Visibility in such a sizeable vehicle is inherently compromised, especially when you add in the deeply-tinted rear windows. Our tester had the Parktronic system, however, which warns of impending impact with an audible beep and a series of LED lights at each corner. Although the R-Class is lower than an SUV, the Escalade-trumping length make this system a good investment-skimp here and you’ll end up spending the same $750 at the body shop in short order.

In fact, there’s so much car/wagon/whatever here, we found ourselves wondering how Mercedes can sell the R-Class so cheap. Our tester stickered at $66,650-$55,500 buys the base R500, and the entertainment package ($790), the panoramic roof ($2390), Airmatic suspension ($1200), Keyless Go ($1,080), and a $350 iPod integration kit round out the package. Compared to the S-Class, that’s quite a value-and for well-off people who regularly have to haul a full complement of kids and gear around, the mere existence of a six-place Benz makes the price of entry irrelevant.

We’ve already told you about ethanol-based E85 fuel-85% synthetic gasoline, made essentially from fermented corn. Certain vehicles available now can run on either this new E85 or the usual 87-octane gas we’re used to; so-called ‘Flex-Fuel Vehicles’ (FFVs) have been on the road for a while-and the Big Three are leading in the field.

With public interest growing, we requested a Flex-Fuel Dodge Caravan SE from the press fleet to see what living with one of these corn-burners would be like. Our first surprise came when we realized how little difference there is between the FFV Caravan and the normal minivans we’ve reviewed. There’s not even a badge or logo anywhere on the thing to advertise that this people-mover can run on fuel made from harvested crops. Even the owner’s manual doesn’t mention alternative fuels-other than an inconspicuous green sticker that reads E85 under the fuel-filler door, you’d never know, from a visual inspection, that this is a Flex-Fuel Vehicle.

And you wouldn’t be able to tell from driving it, either. Ethanol-based fuel actually produces higher octane, which could translate into more horsepower-but only if the engine is optimized for E85 only. Building an FFV that can run on either gas or E85 is only slightly more expensive than a standard fuel-burning vehicle, but you lose a few percentage points in both power and efficiency. Still, the Caravan we lived with drove just like a normal minivan, with plenty of punch from its 3.3-liter V6 and no extra weight slowing it down.

The 3.3-liter V6 is the mid-level engine option in the Dodge Caravan lineup, between a 150-horse 2.4L four and a 240-hp 3.8L six. The 3.3L is the only engine with FFV capability. Rated at 180 horsepower and 210 lb./ft. of torque, it’s good for acceleration we clocked at about 9 seconds to 60 m.p.h. More importantly, it feels strong in almost any situation-keeping up with traffic is no problem in this hauler. Also assisting in acceleration is the four-speed automatic transmission; for a minivan’s slushbox, it’s remarkably willing to downshift-and it’s plenty smooth, even while revving the engine to red-line.

In fact, the driving experience in our FFV Caravan was little different from the normal Caravan Limited we like so much. Although a fleet-spec vehicle (meant to be purchased in bulk by large corporations or government agencies), it was well-equipped with fold-in-floor “Stow-N-Go” seating for the middle and rear seats, and power-opening doors on both sides. It’s a lot of minivan for $28,600.

It’s interesting to note the differences between a fleet vehicle, though, and one built for the public. Although the days of AM radios, rubber floormats, and roll-up windows are largely gone from the fleet market, corners are still cut to keep prices down. For instance, our Caravan, while equipped with power locks and windows, still sported the most basic door panel design you can imagine. Nothing like the gussied-up consumer models, it’s all hard plastic and functional shapes. Niceties like fake wood, lighted switches on doors and the steering wheel, and alloy rims don’t make the cut, either. Dodge must’ve cut corners on the sound deadening, too-the noise from the motors that open and close the sliding doorsis jarringly loud; much more so than we’re used to. Still, an eight-speaker CD stereo was installed, as well as an overhead console with trip computer, thermometer and compass. It’s an interesting mix of basic functionality and creature comforts.

None of that relates to the Caravan’s being an FFV. In fact, the flex-fuel capability demands awful little alteration from your average internal combustion-powered vehicle. Alterations to the fuel lines, tank, pump and so on are the major requirements-nothing that takes up space or adds weight. Not only did our tester FFV Caravan perform like any other, it actually weighs several hundred pounds less than the Grand Caravan with the bigger motor, and thus felt just as quick. Even better, Dodge doesn’t charge an extra dime for the flex-fuel-capable 3.3-liter.

It is worth noting, however, that although they’ve been selling FFVs for eight years, Dodge and Chrysler is mainly offering the flex-fuel option on only fleet vehicles for the 2006 model year-thus our tester’s fleet model status. That’s a new phenomenon, and fortunately other automakers have not regressed in the same manner. Ford offers flex-fuel capability in the Crown Victoria, Town Car, and F-150 lines this year, while GM makes the technology available in most of its large SUVs and trucks. Even DCX’s own Mercedes brand offers an FFV C-Class, and Nissan has been selling an FFV Titan since 2005.

Besides the limited models available with the technology, one factor stunting the popularity of FFVs has generally been the availability of the fuel itself; since Flex-Fuel Vehicles can run on normal gasoline, owners mostly fill ‘em up with regular. We got nearly 19 miles per gallon in our tester Caravan-enough so that we didn’t need to refuel it during our assigned week-but visited an E85 gas station just the same. We found that mixing E85 with regular gas, in the same tank, did not alter the character of our Caravan at all.

In fact, driving a FFV is probably the easiest “green” thing we’ve ever done. It required no sacrifice in performance or usability, and not much extra cost. Hugging the trees even tighter, the FFV Caravan is rated as a Low Emissions Vehicle. And yet for a whole week, we cut our consumption of non-renewable fuel by 75%! (Remember E85 still contains 15% petroleum-based gasoline, and factor in the fact that most gas sold in America already contains 10% ethanol.)

Using an E85 pump is familiar as well, although there are no octane choices. E85 is currently selling for around $2.86-about 12% more than regular gas-but otherwise filling up was no different than ever.

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Well, no different aside from the fact that the station we visited-near the Pentagon in Arlington, VA-is technically a military installation although it looks just like a normal CITGO. Most stations nearby-there are about 14 in the Washington, DC metro area; lots more in the Midwest-are attached to some government facility, but they keep the E85 pumps open to the public. Still, buying gas surrounded by government operatives does take a little getting used to.

In fact, we were told it was illegal to take photographs in the area-thus the surreptitious shots accompanying this piece. There was even a sign on the station door prohibiting members of the general public from purchasing anything but alternative fuel-we suppose the rarity of local E85 vendors is responsible for the exception, but we doubt they’re doing much to encourage civilians to drop by.

Still, the federal government’s Energy Policy is pro-ethanol, and tax benefits for growers and station owners hint that we’ll see more both E85-carrying stations and FFVs in dealer lots. Eventually, it may make a real dent in our reliance on foreign oil sources.

That seems especially likely now, given new developments in making E85 from crops other than the usual corn. Switchgrass, a weed that grows all over the continent, yields 500-1,000 gallons of ethanol per acre-which, at current prices, makes it the most profitable crop available to farmers.

Further fuel-saving technologies can be combined with flex-fuel technology-note Ford’s recent development of a FFV version of the Escape Hybrid, fitted to run on gas or E85; since flex-fuel engines are still standard internal combustion engines, they lend themselves to hybrid power rather easily. However, hybrids add a lot more expense to each vehicle’s bottom line, flex-fuel capability does not. If more new cars and SUVs were built as FFVs-GM has put 1.5 million on the road-and more gas stations carried the fuel, perhaps we wouldn’t need hybrids at all. Synthesizing the basis of our fuel source from a renewable, agricultural crop would itself allay concerns about declining oil production and dependence on the Middle East. Additionally, depressed agricultural communities would get a boost, the government could cut farm subsidies, and the overall trade deficit would improve.

The problem of what to do when the oil runs out-or when our enemies use it to hold us hostage-is a complex one. There are economic issues to consider regarding both the cost of vehicles and the money it’d take to be sure they can be conveniently refueled. There are environmental issues, especially as some technologies require using more energy than they generate. And for some of us, there are emotional issues as well; many Americans demand powerful engines, good acceleration, and/or plenty of room in their vehicles, no matter what they run on. Electric cars were one possible solution, but it turned out that the costs in energy and money of making and fueling them were untenable-plus, they’re heavy and slow. Vehicles running on hydrogen, or natural gas (compressed or liquefied), are slightly cleaner but require a hefty infrastructure investment-and still didn’t promise much fun. But with America’s new-car emissions as low as they now are, and FFV technology being just as clean, we’d venture to say that a widespread adoption of ethanol production and use represents the ultimate economic and environmental solution to the transportation problem. Fortunately, we can now also say, from first-hand experience, that the ethanol solution isn’t going to eradicate driving enjoyment. If Dodge can make a minivan that runs on E85 with no compromises, there’s no reason all of our favorite models can’t be engineered as FFVs without sacrificing power, handling, or space.

In truth, we’re right now in the midst of the greatest resurgence of automobile performance since the late 1960s. Some obscure set of factors has finally re-converged to encourage a climate which enthusiasts find temperate; above fuel efficiency concerns, emissions worries, or new design directions, the focus in so many niches of the new-car market is on horsepower. Hooray!

Thus, just about every new car on the market is a powerhouse and every redesign of an existing model sports better numbers. It’s a phenomenon that has even spread to trucks and SUVs-ten years ago your average four-by-four was judged by tow ratings, while today their conversations include zero-to-sixty times and quarter miles. Heck, even Porsche sells a truck now-and Land Rover, which got by for decades powering the Range Rover with a 1960s’ Buick V8 making 215 horsepower-now trades on power and sporty feel.

So it’s no surprise that ‘feel-good’ brand Saturn has gotten into the mix. Hot on the heels of the hotted-up Ion Red Line compact comes the redesigned 2006 Red Line edition of the Vue baby SUV. We spent a week with this hot-rod-Saturn, and came away with some interesting, if mixed, impressions.

First off, it’s a good-looking machine. The Vue itself has gone from an angular, malformed misfit to a macho megastar, courtesy of a well-done recent redesign. The Red Line edition adds ground effects, mild spoilerage, 18″ alloys wearing 245/50 rubber, and other go-faster-looking bits that actually make for an aesthetic success. We like the gaping grille below the bumper is reminiscent of an intercooler, set off by recessed fog lights, and the black-out treatment applied to the window area. It looks equal parts modern and fast, and we hope that if America’s love affair with the SUV continues, we’ll see more examples of the breed with this much flair.

Inside are some interesting details as well. Silver-faced gauges are complemented by suede-like sport seats, which unfortunately lack much in the way of bolstering. Red Line floor mats are a neat touch, and in general the gray-and-black color scheme looks sexier than it sounds. And in a thoughtful moment, Saturn’s interior designers threw in an innovative package-holding system that folds up from the rear cargo area’s floor and does an excellent job of keeping your gear from rattling around.

Our tester was equipped with a single-disc CD player with mp3 capabilities and an iPod connector. The aluminum and high-quality plastic audio and climate system interfaces, as well as secondary switchgear, is sourced from that magical new GM interior parts bin that contributes to the upscale feel in the Solstice and H3-looking and feeling as good as anything in the class. One interesting (if childish) Red Line feature is the ‘ambient floor lighting,’ which bathes the front and rear footwells in blue or orange light at night. It’s not as garish as it sounds, but then again, it’s not as useful as those subtle LEDs illuminating the console area that we’re seeing in other new designs-nor would we choose to skip heated seats for the feature (required since the color-selector switches replace the ones for that option).

Perhaps the best feature of the Red Line Vue-available in other Vue models as well-is the powerplant. It’s a sweet 3.5-liter V6, rated at 250 horsepower, that moves the Vue with authority and utter smoothness. Zero to sixty comes up in 7.5 seconds, and the free-revving motor never sounds stressed. Of note here is that this honey of an engine is actually sourced from Honda; a boon for buyers from reliability and performance standpoints, but a public relations problem for Saturn. Still, with almost 70 horses more than the GM 3-liter that powers the base Vue, there’s nothing to knock under this hood. Especially as this motor works extremely well with the smooth GM five-speed automatic it’s paired with. Shifts are as smooth as butter, but not slushy.

The suspension is another story, however, although lowering the chassis by an inch does provide a better stance. Don’t let those racy looks fool you, though; the Vue is an SUV through and through, and handles like one. Saturn attempted to imbue the Vue with a crisper, sportier feel, but the added stiffness also imparts even more pronounced side-to-side movement in a vehicle with a high center of gravity such as this. We didn’t expect the stability of a Cayenne, but even the Hyundai Tucson felt more solid in aggressive driving. Howling tires, pulse-quickening body lean and prayer-eliciting brakes should not be mistaken for high-performance equipment, and should not be mixed with high-performance driving. The stiffened shocks and springs, and lower-profile rubber, are certainly an improvement over the stock Vue, but a corner-carving hero they do not make. At least the ride is comfortable, and predictable understeer is relatively safe.

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Torque steer can also be an issue, interestingly enough. Although the Red Line Vue has “all-wheel-drive,” the system only engages the rear wheels when slippage is detected up front. Thus, most of the time all those horses are galloping through the front wheels only, and in some cases-especially hard acceleration through a slight turn-the extra directional pull can really surprise you.

A couple other complaints, while we’re at it: The rear seats are flat and hardly comfortable on long trips-this is symptomatic of the baby-SUV segment but still annoys. At least they fold relatively flat, and can be locked down for stability. Ergonomics truly went out the window, however, with the parking brake handle design; it’s so close to the side of the console that your knuckles scrape the hard plastic every time you use it. And finally, the wind noise at high speeds seemed excessive.

Saturn has developed a separate Green Line for the brand’s economy-minded offerings. Still, our Red Line tester rates as a ULEV vehicle, and the EPA gives it a laudable 28 m.p.g. highway rating. Of course, we’ve got lots more lead in our feet than the EPA’s testers do, and we barely did half as well at an average 15 m.p.g. in mixed driving.

Still, this is a good-looking piece in a class where style is almost utterly absent. If nothing else, the $1,995 Red Line option is worth it just for the body mods. The Red Line Vue itself stickers at almost $25,000, which could cause sticker-coma upon initial inspection. That’s actually $1,200 less than last year, though-and keep in mind, GM has still not weaned itself off incentives completely. Also remember you’re getting V6 power, an upscale interior, more gadgets and a lot more style at that price-suddenly it seems like a bargain. Plus, you get all-wheel-drive, a well-equipped interior, and a sweet powertrain, all at a price that would never get you in the door at Porsche or Land Rover.

Mazda has released details on the new CX-7 crossover SUV, a 2007 model which should be in dealerships this spring. Production of the CX-7 began last week in Hiroshima, Japan. Pricing will start at $23,750, making the curvaceous newcomer a quite comely competitor in the small SUV segment—where style is often secondary to shape.

Ahead of the game underhood as well, all CX-7s will boast 244 horsepower, courtesy of a turbocharged version of the familiar 2.3-liter four, with intercooler. Torque is rated at 258 lb./ft., at a Marianas-Trench-low 2,500 r.p.m.—and Mazda claims 99% of that is on tap all the way up to the 5,000 r.p.m. power peak. Base models will be driven by the front wheels; all-wheel-drive is optional. If the suspension has been engineered to be anywhere near as sporty as the exterior design and marketing campaigns imply, the CX-7 should rate among the best SUVs as far as handling and driving enjoyment. (We’re guessing it will; Mazda’s got quite a performance record lately, thanks to the RX-8, the new Miata, and the MazdaSpeed versions of the 3 and 6.)

Sport, Touring and Grand Touring models will be available, all with seating for five. On the safety front, every CX-7 comes with six airbags, traction and stability control systems, and ABS. Standard convenience features include cruise control, air conditioning, and power windows, mirrors and locks. Also common across the model range are 18” rims and a six-speed automatic.

Conventional wisdom has it that beneath the all-new sheetmetal sits yet another chassis derived from the CD3 architecture that underpins the Mazda6. Ford’s new Edge crossover uses the same unibody construction, although some claim the CX-7 actually borrows more from the MazdaSpeed version of the 6’s platform, for a sportier ride. The back half of the CX-7’s chassis and suspension, however, is instead related to the Mazda3 and 5 designs, meaning the CX-7’s chassis is something of a hybrid—and unique to Mazda.

No matter where the dirty bits came from, however, we’re impressed at least with the CX-7’s gestation time. This essentially all-new model took barely two years from conception to production, which bodes well for the two other new North America-only vehicles Mazda promises will follow this model.

A loaded Grand Touring CX-7, with all-wheel-drive, will run about $28,000. That includes heated leather seating with power adjustments for the driver, HID headlights, automatic climate control, and upgraded trim. A $4,000 technology package adds fun stuff like navigation, moonroof, a six-CD changer with Bose power, voice control, remote starting, and a rearview camera. (Of course, recent reports have told of grey-market CX-7s being pre-sold for nearly $60,000 to eager Russian buyers; Mazda has restricted exports to curb the gouging.)

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Mazda’s naming system has been confusing—and confused—lately, but this new model actually helps clear things up. From now on, Mazda claims, all crossover SUVs will wear a CX prefix, while core models will continue with the single number system (Mazda3, Mazda6, etc.). Further, rotary-powered cars (like the RX-8) will all wear the RX designation, while conventional sports cars will be dubbed MX, as in the MX-5 Miata, which the brand has for now given up trying to get Americans to remember as just the “MX-5.” We’re not sure what this means for other non-alphanumeric models, like the Tribute, or the MPV minivan and B-series light truck. But at least it’s a start.

Bottom line: the CX-7 looks pretty, and packs impressive performance numbers at a palatable price. Mazda’s recent work has been well-received and well-built, and we expect the same here. We look forward to our first drive, and to meeting the other two vehicles they’ve got planned just for our market.

Full disclosure: although we here at Roadfly.com get a good bit more track time than your average drivers-and we do drive a slew of high-powered hot-rods of all shapes and sizes over the course of a year-we really don’t get a whole lot of time in all-out sports cars. Look at the percentages; for every 9112 we might test, we’re bound to review an Accord, a Sienna and a Santa Fe, a Tahoe and a Titan, and even an Aveo in between. So when we do get a full week behind the wheel of an overpowered, driver-focused, utterly selfish machine-read: Corvette-it’s an event. And let’s just get this out of the way right here and now: Thanks, Chevy, for making this one as good as it was.

Yeah, the Corvette kicks ass. You already knew it and we already knew it, from introductory events and fond remembrances of the testers of years gone by. But the 2006 C6 is unequivocally the best ‘Vette yet-not just for the abundant power and superlative grip, but for the astonishingly high levels of creature comfort and refinement found inside as well. The C6 is everything a Corvette should be, and a lot of things it ever was.

Our blue beast racked up 200-some miles in its seven days with us (averaging 17.3 miles per gallon, and that’s the last we’ll talk of that). We tested it on urban blacktops, deserted country roads, and the occasional parking lot. The 6.0-liter V8 got quite a workout in that time-we always feel sorry for the poor saps who buy these press testers as used cars, no matter how well maintained by the fleets. We drove in the heat of high noon and at the darkest hours of night; in dry weather and wet; at sensible speeds and velocities that would cost us our licenses even in less-fascistic countries. And throughout that time, not once did that stupid, shit-eating grin leave our faces.

Tech specs: 400 horsepower, with a 6,500 RPM redline. Six-speed automatic, with paddle shifters. Magnetic Selective Ride Control suspension with Sport and Touring settings. 19″ rims-the optional Competition Grey puppies-wearing 245/40 front and 285/35 rear rubber.

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Reality: Japanese Bullet Train. Apollo-class rocket boosters. Brock Yates’ famed, imaginary “raped ape.” Sigh…no imagery we can conjure up can express what this kind of acceleration feels like. Yes, we’ve driven the Viper, and we’ve driven the Z06, but there’s a certain point where “fast” becomes simply a matter of degree; and the 2006 Corvette is the benchmark for the feeling. Go out and wrangle yourself a test-drive, if you’ve never encountered this sort of power before; there’s no substitute for experience.

Your first corner will come up a lot quicker than you expected-the LS6 V8 moves this car faster than your brain can process visual images. And you’ll be going a lot faster than you’ll be thinking you should. Fortunately, if the road isn’t too rough, you can pretty much just turn in and hold on. Feather the throttle to adjust the tail end if you need to; the ‘Vette just won’t let go. Turn on Competition Mode by depressing the Active Handling button twice if you’re hitting serious twisties; otherwise the electronic overlords will just fight you if you’re getting really drift-happy. And stick the suspension into Sport Mode for a little more road feel. (You actually can feel the shocks stiffening up when you twist that knob…that’s what she said!) After a while, you’ll realize that the Corvette makes heroes out of even mediocre drivers, and relax in the knowledge that you’re behind the wheel of one of the most competent cars in history.

Just like the old muscle cars of yore, the Corvette is a blast in a straight line as well. The Active Handling limits wheelspin at launch, but when you’ve got grip and forward momentum it feels like nothing can stop you. Downshifting with the accelerator from part-throttle is a revelation; the car’s demeanor transforms from relaxed cruiser to untamed race car in a split second. At any point above 3,000 r.p.m. or so, the exhaust really makes itself heard; it’s a sonorous basso profundo that’ll set off car alarms from a block away. For all this, though, the C6 Corvette isn’t entirely raw. There’s a level of quietness and composure at cruising speeds that was lacking in earlier efforts.

The Corvette’s creature comforts really do coddle you, in fact-and that’s what’s unexpected about all this. It’s surprisingly viable as a daily-driver. There’s a nav system ($1,600) with an honest-to-goodness touch screen-we think GM’s finally using Lexus’ vendor-that actually works and even saves you time now and again. The heads-up display, with several configurations for road and track use, proffers the necessary four-one-one without requiring that split-second drop of the eyes. The top-level audio system, integrated with the navigation, packs a mp3-ready CD player with nearly brain-melting power. It puts out clear, heavy bass notes, with an optional automatic adjustment for ambient noise-although we did find it topped out several notches short of “too loud.”

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Speaking of that heads-up display, aside from duplicating speed and tach info it can be configured to project various displays of oil pressure, battery voltage, and temp readings for your oil, coolant, or differential. It’s the Net-Generation’s version of the chromed tri-gauge kit. And perhaps the neatest trick of all, it’s integrated with a g-meter; your hairiest corner-carving quantified into real terms in real-time. According to that on-board observer, the ‘Vette pulls right up to a full g without breaking loose; above 1.0 or so the tail kicks out-but in Competition Mode it’s still easy to bring back in line.

Gadget-wise, the Corvette also comes with the neat little Driver Information Center that’s seen on most high-level GM vehicles these days. Just like in your wife’s Suburban, it’ll give you tire pressures, fuel economy and range, and so on; plus it allows for customizing such features as the length of time the lights stay on after the engine is shut off, whether the horn beeps upon locking and unlocking, etc. And best of all, for the egomaniacs among us (and what good Corvette owner isn’t?), you can program it to display your name at startup, right after the “CORVETTE-by Chevrolet” animation. How cool is that?

Plus, we loved the pop-off targa roof. (Which fist nicely in the cargo area-who says ‘Vette’s don’t score well on trunk space?) Three levers are all it takes to release the fiberglass panel; it’s light enough for one person to lift, and fits nicely into the trunk. Of course, you can leave it on, if it’s too cold outside for top-down motoring (with the heated seats and well-managed cabin airflow, you’re good above as low as, say, 40 degrees). In place, it’s practically invisible-and utterly silent. Considering the improved aesthetics the removable-roof coupe offers over the convertible-not to mention the several thousand dollar price differential-we figure the droptop to be the less-desirable model of the two.

The seats-both of ‘em-should be nicknamed ‘Webster;’ they define supportive to that degree. In a neat trick we haven’t seen since the old Lincoln LSCs, the side bolsters have a motorized adjustment for tightness. Plus, they’re upholstered in leather that feels as soft as your favorite bomber and should last just as long. The dash and door panels are done up in slick, soft plastics and sexy-looking faux carbon fiber. Switchgear this year is to perfection near (sorry, we couldn’t resist; we already told you about that grin, right?); GM has been advancing in this arena by leaps and bounds. Even the carpet feels luxurious.

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Dual-zone climate control and two-level heated seats ensure temperate comfort for all. The steering wheel has a motorized telescoping feature, and along with the seats, retracts when the door is opened. And continuing the personalization potential, there are two driver memory settings that control seat, mirror, and audio preferences with the press of a single button.

We’ve waxed poetic for long enough on the ‘Vette’s virtues, and now we’re at the point where in your average review we’d start up the whining machine. For once, however, we’ve got practically nothing to complain about-we’d tell you to alert the media, but we’re it. You can’t touch this level of performance for anywhere near the money; and for those who wish the ‘Vette was even more luxurious or roomy or efficient, go buy something else.

Three hundred and forty horses would seem to be enough in a two-ton sedan. So would 18″ rims, a taut suspension, and grippy leather seats. In fact, you’d figure the standard Chrysler 300C would prove more than enough car for pretty much anyone-and the shelves of awards and accolades DCX’s baby has amassed in its time on the market would seem to prove that.

For a certain type of person, though, that isn’t the case. We’re talking here about the kind of guy who thinks 250 horsepower is appropriate for a Neon, and that 500 sounds about right for a full-size pickup. We’re talking about the folks who conceived of and built the original Dodge Viper-hard-core car guys. We’re talking about the brain trust at DaimlerChrysler’s Street and Racing Technology team-the SRT guys-the guys who have probably the best jobs in all of the auto industry.

These are our kind of guys. And these are the guys who have now bestowed upon us a 300C on steroids-the 2006 300C SRT8.

In keeping with the old hot-rodder axiom that “there’s no replacement for displacement,” the SRT8 starts with a bored-out version of the standard 5.7-liter HEMI-to 6.1 liters. Horsepower hits a heady 425 as a result of this and other steroidal mods like an improved intake, freer-flowing exhaust system, and an increased compression ratio.

No wussy, fuel-saving “Multi-Displacement System” here-the 300C SRT8 gets a rated 14/19 m.p.g. city/highway and is damn proud of it. The SRT8 actually shows off its dissimilarity to the C via more aggressive fascias front and rear and a small spoiler.

Overkill is again the watchword when it comes to the suspension-where the 300C is by no means lazy, the SRT boys’ work makes this chassis simply sing. Spring rates are increased, shocks are stiffened, and the standard rims become 20″ tank-tread monsters. The 255/45 rubber itself is reminiscent of a Corvette’s-all the more to burn.

Adding up all the above doesn’t make for a complex equation, but by way of simplifying it even further, you can sum it all up in one word: fun. We clocked a zero-to-sixty run in well under five seconds, hit 160 easily at the top end, and pulled a full .9 Gs as measured by the G-Tech. Cliché as it may sound, 425 horses and 420 lb./ft. of torque means that when you punch the throttle, this car makes just about everything else on the road seem to be standing still.

Admittedly, it’s a strange sensation, piloting a road-rocket the size of an ’80s Oldsmobile past pretender sporty-cars wearing German badges and their owners (wearing embarrassed faces). Still, aside from getting used to the additional length of the 300 chassis-you still have to allow a wide berth when zipping into holes in traffic-the feeling is a lot like being at the helm of one of those cigarette boats popularized in the ’80s.

That’s where the boat comparison ends, though; the SRT8 does not wallow on the road. Throw any curve you like at it, too, and there’s no hint of hesitation; just some mild understeer as the sedan takes its set and digs in. Glorious levels of grip come courtesy of that wide rubber, and steering response is right-now quick thanks to the quick-ratio rack and pinion setup. And yet even with all this immediacy, switchbacks don’t unsettle the 300’s chassis as much as you’d think; unwanted body motions are well-damped, possibly as a result of this chassis luxury-car origins (the LX platform originated from the Mercedes E-Class design). In all, the SRT8 feels buttoned-down and glued to even the twistiest of roads-while a car of this size can’t really be called nimble, it’ll just about keep up with anything that can. (And if you ever do fall behind, floor the go-pedal when the road straightens out and you’ll be back on your opponent’s bumper in no time.)

We opened it up on an empty highway or two, too, and were amazed by the right-now throttle response and seemingly endless torque. For such a big motor, the over-sized HEMI revs freely, and sounds like a chorus of bulldogs snarling.

Inside, the SRT8 gets the best of everything on the 300’s option sheet, plus a few unique goodies. Best of the bunch are the front bucket seats, done up in suede and stitched with the SRT logo-deep and contoured, they grab you like a good pair of gloves, while remaining comfortable even on long trips.

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The nav system in our tester wasn’t the best we’ve seen, but not the world’s worst, either. It lacks a touch screen, but the user interface is simpler than that found in some of DCX’s German-badged models. It’s integrated with a six-disc CD changer with mps playback capability, meaning you can load nearly a thousand songs at one shot. The sound system itself is of audiophile quality-we suppose the SRT boys figure a world-class driveline deserves a world-class entertainment system as well.

Out back is room for three abreast, although it’s really only comfortable for two due to a pronounced middle hump. From the outboard seats’ vantage point, though, the 300 feels like a limo-there’s leg, hip and shoulder room galore. Even head room isn’t nearly as restricted as the low roof would make you think; anyone under six feet can avoid leaving hair gel-stains on the headliner without ducking. Cavernous as well is the trunk; there’s 15.6 cubic feet of stowage back there, in a simple rectangle shape.

The SRT’ed 300 gets a lot more than just those sizeable, polished ten-spoke wheels to differentiate itself from the more plebian C model. There’s a slick ground-effects package that’s certainly aggressive, if a bit juvenile for some tastes, and pronounced fender flares. chromed dual exhaust tips are another clue to this machine’s potency, as is a unique mesh-like grille insert. Overall it’s a good look; long, low and mean.

Chrysler has an unmitigated hit on its hands with the 300 (and its Dodge Magnum and Charger stablemates). The 300C has been recognized and the sports sedan value of the decade, with levels of power and convenience that would cost twice as much in any other dealership. What DCX’s SRT team has done here, then, is simply refine and expand upon the concept-the SRT is like the 300C squared. Faster, sexier, and even more luxurious inside, the SRT8 of course commands a premium price. However, in what is perhaps the best news here, the cost hasn’t been elevated as much as the limited-edition status of this model might’ve allowed. Our tester, loaded to the gills and giving us grins aplenty, stickered at a mere $42,500. That’s about equal to a well-equipped BMW 330, for literally twice as much car. At $10,000 more, it’d be hard to refuse-as it is, it’s a no-brainer.

Saab has been something of a whipping-boy in the automotive press; paired up with BMWs and Audis and other sporty Euro-makes in comparison tests that the brand’s basically predestined to lose. After all, Saab never really was about all-out European-style driving sublimity-even if the brand’s current owner doesn’t really get that.

GM picked up Saab in one of the General’s characteristic impulse-buys; matching Ford’s fortuitous acquisition of Volvo. GM figured a high-end make in its stable would flesh out the corporate portfolio-but they weren’t really buying the same type of brand to begin with. Saab has always been about being adventurous, being off-beat, being different, first and foremost-not necessarily about being the best at any one thing in particular. Merecede’s has a lock on prestige, BMW’s core value is driving perfection, Volvo’s become synonymous with safety. And where for every ounce of effort GM’sm put into trying to beat those brands at their game, they’ve ignored to the same extent the true, innate character that solidified Saab’s loyal customer base in the first place.

Saab buyers never really wanted to beat Bimmer guys around a racetrack, or to project an image of self-sacrificing “family-first” safety-ism, nor do they lust after that prominent position in the valet-parking lot. Overmatched as they might be in comparison tests with brands that do aspire to those traits-especially when the test itself is skewed in that direction-Saab’s place in the automotive stratosphere has been secured by the brand’s willingness to do things differently, to march to it’s own beat, to dare to be different. And while certain models in the current lineup have eschewed that core strength thanks to GM’s ill-advised attempt to make Sweden’s second-biggest automaker compete with the rest of Europe, the current 9-3 has managed to hold on to a lot of what makes a Saab a Saab. Viewed in that light, it’s a success.

Exterior styling is the primary attribute that lures walking-wallets into showrooms; the way a car looks weighs heavier on most buying decisions than any other single quality. The 9-3 manages to pass this test, while maintaining the brand’s identity, with aplomb-it looks like nothing else on the road, and still looks good. “Born from Jets” is the new (and rather uninspired) tagline, and it does apply to the current car in question’s appearance. Sleek is the watchword here, with wind-tunnel-tested lines forming a slippery, sexy shape that is every bit as good as the baby sedans from other makes in the same class. Low, lean, and lithe, the 9-3 carries over a basic shape that’s familiar going as far back as the late 1980s, although regular restyling has kept the form fresh and modern. The classic grille, the expected body skirts, and the hatchback-like shape should all please the eyes of the Saab faithful.

Inside is a similar story; Saab shoppers salivate for the unusual in their interiors-and won’t be disappointed.

That’s what makes the 9-3 different; Saab’s also included a lot of content that matches the competition as well. There’s nice leather on those sport seats, and real wood on that console. The folding rear seat, with ski-bag pass-thru is a convenient touch, as is the 12-volt outlet in the armrest. We liked the clock/trip-computer unit sitting atop the dash as well; the average fuel economy (we got 23.6 m.p.g.-not bad for us leadfoots), range, date/alarm and so on is handy, if not heady, stuff. The two sturdy rear cupholders did make us wonder why the ones up front are so either flimsy-feeling or poorly positioned (the spidery thing protruding from the dash or the spot right by the ignition switch). But the overall level of equipment-high-powered six-disc DC audio system, keyless entry with remote trunk, HID headlights, leather, wood and power-everything-seemed rich for the $32,960 as-tested price (the base car runs $25,900). And pretty much all controls functioned well and were within reach-even if they were a little hard-to-fathom in that typical Saab fashion.

A nav note here. Our tester did, as is increasingly common in almost every price range, include one of these systems. First off, the 9-3’s unit lacks touch-screen capability (and voice-entry as well), failing our first test for ease-of-use. Furthermore, the intelligent logic used in this Swede’s system seemed subpar; if it wasn’t dragging our route around superfluous U-turns, it was freezing up altogether. Finally, we couldn’t find a way to turn off the voice-guidance interrupting the audio system-pretty much all settings were obfuscated to say the least-which we found annoying especially in a system that feels a need to talk to you every twelve seconds.

It’s the driving dynamics where the Saabs generally begin to lose points in those buff-book title fights mentioned above. And it’s true, the Saab is nowhere near as connected to the road as a 3-series, and by no means can the 9-3’s composure be compared to a C-Class. However, our Swedish subject is not noticeably lacking in any of these qualities, either. The 9-3 is essentially a composed car-unless pushed hard; a state that at least 2.0T owners are unlikely to achieve. Cornering is smooth, grip is satisfactory, and response to inputs from the helm are accurate if not instantaneous. Our Saab was never unsettled on any but the worst of the area’s tarmac, and was creditably smooth when the road was, too. Essentially, the 9-3 makes a good compromise between all-out handling prowess and quiet cruising comfort.

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Technical details are rounded out by a five-speed Sentronic automatic transmission. For the shift-it-yourself crowd, a six-speed manual tranny is also available. Or, you can use the manu-matic function; we found the Saab’s to be one of the better examples of this concept, holding the selected gear to redline and executing split-second shifts when activated.

A couple faults do detract from the drive/ride, however. First off is the notorious torque steer issue; Saab has still not managed to learn how to tame a thundering 221 lb./ft. through the front wheels without nearly ripping the wheel out of the driver’s hands-especially not with the turbo motor’s tendency to come on quick. That turbo also contributes to a lack of quiet in the cabin; an ever-present whistle belies the Saab’s premium pretensions.

And yet the turbo acquits itself of any quibbles fairly well when you put your foot into that drive-by-wire throttle. 210 horses might not sound like a lot, but when that forced induction comes to a boil-which it does faster than road rage hits on the Beltway-the horses shove you back into your seat as the Saab takes off. We measured zero to sixty in about seven and a half seconds; on par with the more-expensive BMW and Audi sedans in the class.

This isn’t an all-out sports-sedan, though. The motor does run out of steam at some supremely extralegal speeds, and low-end torque isn’t a bragging point, either. Furthermore, the all-season rubber on 16-inch wheels is a good compromise between handling, all-weather capability, safety, noise, and simple wear. Driven in a normal, everyday manner, the Saab 9-3 2.0T feels like a smooth, competent European car that just happens to have turbo-power waiting in the wings for whenever you might need it-nothing more, nothing less.

Take the svelte styling, the comfortable if quirky interior, and the peppy drivetrain. Then factor in the overall value the 9-3 represents, when compared to a similar-sized BMW, Volvo, Audi, Mercedes, and so on. Add it all up, and your sum is a solid, sensible-and singular-Saab. Sure, we know we probably couldn’t talk any Saab-lovers out of buying one anyway-but we’re still happy we don’t have to.

Those wacky Japanese-thanks to them we get those neat t-shirts (you know, the ones that read “Super Happy Fun Boy!” or “Winning is for me #1!”), and that cool script that less-imaginative gaigin use to tattoo platitudes on themselves. We also get a glimpse of what their roadways must look like-pint-sized, grinning machines straight out of one of those anime comics-but usually only through media coverage of their Tokyo Auto Show. After all, the folks from the Land of the Rising Sun learned long ago that their wacky designs didn’t do much for sales, and started emulating American and German design even better than the Americans and Germans himself did it. That’s why it’s neat when the corporate honchos let a model that’s straight from the Japanese Domestic Market through onto our shores-it’s like a glimpse of an automotive life most of us will never see.

And that’s what the Mazda5 is; it was designed for Japan, but some suits at Mazda figured they could make a business case for bringing it here-where it’s essentially in a class of its own. What it is, is really a mini-minivan; a minivan-let, if you prefer. Sitting on an enlarged version of the compact Mazda3 platform, and borrowing that compact’s mechanicals as well, the Mazda5 is tinier than even the old Corvair-based Greenbrier vans of the ’60s. Only 15 feet long and less than six feet wide, the 5 will surprise you with how big it seems inside, however. In fact, after seven days and six hundred miles, we’re even beginning to wonder if our own inherent taste for large-footprint family transport. Could it be that we don’t need 240 horses, 20 feet, and 4,000 pounds to haul the kids around?

There are three rows of seats inside the Mazda 5, and while it’s not spacious enough to walk around upright in, the seating is actually more comfortable than most 3-row SUVs we’ve tested. The seats themselves are thin, though-little space-saving tricks add up to a lot here.

Something else the 5 doesn’t do like a minivan-drive. It’s front-wheel-drive, and a little underpowered, but the low center of gravity and outbound wheel-placement means the 5 retains more of its compact qualities, as far as behind-the-wheel feel goes. In fact, the 5 handles in most driving situations like a decent compact car-that is, nimble around town, if a little overmatched when pushing it on interstate freeways. It feels light and ‘zippy’ if not quick, but much like those original Japanese imports back in the 60s’, it’s not entirely comfortable in the left lane of some of our faster freeways.

Speaking of power, the only motor in the 5 is the 2.3-liter four-banger that’s optional-and quite a screamer-in the Mazda3. It makes the same 157 horsepower in this application, but the extra four hundred pounds or so (3,389 with the automatic, as tested) make the 5 feel strained where the Mazda3 2.3 feels unencumbered. Part of that may be the paltry 148 lb./ft. of torque. Much of the blame also rests with the 5’s four-speed automatic transmission, though-it’s a low-tech piece that feels out of place in such a modern ride. A slow learner, this tranny never seems to sense any sort of aggressive driving, thus always seeming to be a gear too high when you need it. It also revs the engine at higher freeway speeds, not into the powerband where at least you’d get some sporty feel out of it, but just to where it’s inefficient and loud. In fact, this tranny is probably the weakest link in an otherwise attractive package.

Stepping into the Mazda5 feels a lot more like entering you average midsize Japanese family sedan-accord, Mazda6, etc.-than climbing into a minivan. The color scheme inside is basic black, with some aluminum bits here and there to break up the continuity, and the emphasis is clearly function over form. Controls are simple and fall readily to hand; everything feels solid without being over-engineered, in the way that Accords and their ilk do. There’s good bolstering in the front seats, too, although the passenger inboard armrest is sacrificed to the cause of pass-thru space to the next row. Entré into the back is via standard hinged doors; the 5 eschews the sliding-door trick, and is all the better for it.

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The sole option in our Mazda5 Touring press tester was the $1,200 navigation system. Now, we’ve been staunch advocates of touch-screen based systems like those found in Toyota/Lexus products-but Mazda’s is probably the best of the bunch out of those that lack this convenience. Not once did it lose the signal, and entering destinations and other info was easier here than in systems from manufacturers like Mercedes-Benz or GM. The icing on that cake is the slick motorized panel that houses the screen; it pops up when in use like something out of MTV’s Pimp My Ride, and tilts to different angles at the touch of a button to reduce glare. As ever we’d recommend thinking about how much you’d actually need such a system before dropping a couple grand on it-not to mention consider investing in a Thomas Guide or two-but Mazda’s nav setup is better than most.

We usually begin a review like this with some thoughts on the vehicle’s styling-but when we’re talking minivan, there’s often not much to say, so we lead with other considerations. The Mazda5 doesn’t rate a change in this process, either. It’s straight-up minivan, in three-quarter scale. It’s your basic one-box shape, with a slick, sloped nose, slab sides, and a chopped tail. Still, much like Mazda’s MPV, the 5 does do more with the basic design than most efforts. There’s a sort of unexpected sleekness to the whole look, perhaps thanks to a lack of extraneous spoilers and ground effects.

We put a lot of miles on our press tester in our week with it. Roughly 80% of that was on mostly-empty freeways, at extra-legal speeds. Our average economy worked out to be just under 27 m.p.g. Rather impressive, and that figure would’ve been further improved had the tranny sported an extra cog. Still, that’s a solid performance, especially in these uncertain times-and significantly better than any minivan we’ve had in the fleet.

One last area where the Mazda5 trumps a conventional minivan-price. The 5 carries a pretty light price tag, especially if you’re cross-shopping minivans: under $18,000 to start. You simply can’t buy a six-passenger vehicle for less, and that’s before you factor in fuel economy.

We recently had occasion to spend a week driving a car we didn’t believe would still be around this far into the game. Not that we didn’t like the New Beetle-when unveiled, we were charmed right alongside the rest of the automotive press-but we figured the model would be a one off; lasting no more than a single model cycle. After all, how do you update a car that’s based upon a cultural icon that never really changed? If you change it much, you lose the retro connection; if you don’t it becomes stale and unpopular. Well, perhaps the original Bug’s resilience should’ve tipped us off; Germany’s “People’s Car” lasted longer than some countries, with only minimal changes within a very lazy timeline. And now, it looks as if Volkswagen is aiming for the same thing with the New one.

For this year, the New Beetle got minor plastic surgery outside, and a whole-heart transplant inside. Just like VW did with the original, the New Beetle survives by gaining more power and cosmetic tweaks to keep it abreast of the passing wave of time.

Outside, the alterations are subtle. There’s a new grille element below the bumper area, with three distinct air inlets that lend a more aggressive look to the overall styling. Lighting elements and fender flares were reworked as well, but still, anyone but a hard-core Beetle fan would be hard-pressed to tell the difference based solely on a simple visual examination.

Under that cute, rounded hood-not where a Bug’s motor should reside, any purist would tell you (’til your ears fall off)-the news is a lot more newsworthy. The naturally aspirated engine choices have been cut to one, eliminating the old 180-horse turbo-four. At least the old 2.0-liter four, at 115hp described fittingly by the word anemic-has been supplanted by a much more sizeable 2.5-liter inline five. This is the same motor that powers the new base-model Jetta, and here it gives a much better account of itself. (VW would also like to point out that parts of this motor-the cylinder head, for instance-are adapted from half of the Lamborghini Gallardo’s V10…but Lamborghini themselves would like you to forget that entirely.) Although the Jetta’s somewhat flatulent exhaust note is retained-perhaps a symptom of the irregular cylinder configuration-150 horsepower in this application is a good number. The Beetle feels torquey and strong now; it’ll certainly keep up with traffic in this configuration

And if that isn’t enough for you, the fuel-sipping diesel model, with a turbocharged 1.9-liter oil-burner, is available; boasting a full 100 horsepower-adequate in mild-mannered driving but it matches nobody’s definition of sporty. Of course, this is perfect for those who might miss the old, familiar, singularly Beetle feeling we like to call “underpowered.” Still, fuel economy is in the 37/44 range with this option, and like the rest of the new-generation diesels from VW, Mercedes and so on, there’s little in the way of noise or pollution penalty. The Beetle GT model is discontinued entirely-but there’s still a ragtop on the lot, for those who prefer cute to scoot.

As for the 2.5 we lived with for a week, we timed a 0-60 m.p.h. run at a couple ticks under 9 seconds, which we list here in spite of our opinion that the Beetle doesn’t feel too badly overmatched by its deceptive/unexpected) three-thousand-pound curb weight. We do heartily advise against ponying up for the six-speed automatic tranny in this car, though-stick with the manual if you enjoy being able to get out of your own way. We averaged 26 miles per gallon in mixed driving.

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Handling is another story. The New Beetle is somewhat top-heavy for a compact, obviously-the center-of-gravity deficiency is palpable is spirited motoring. There’s more grip than we ever needed, though, and steering response, aided by the optional, $400 225/45 rubber on 17″ rims (versus 202/55R16s), is passably fair for a front-driver. Torque-steer can be problematic here, as we learned-caution is advisable, especially when accelerating out of a turn with a curb on your left. In all, the New Beetle 2.5 isn’t a pocket-rocket, no matter how sporty it may look; treat it like its cute-car appearance suggests you should and you’ll never have a problem.

This VW’s interior is as unique as the exterior. Carried over are the body-colored upper door panels-not advisable for arm-resting-as well as a small flower (”bud”) vase. (Note that the official VW owner’s manual advises against driving your Beetle with anything in it, buds or otherwise.) The seats are diminutive but comfy, and rear-seat room is mainly compromised by that curving roof shape. Switchgear is modern yet ruggedly timeless; we haven’t seen it’s like in other VW models. Even the audio system has a hint of throwback to it; it’s that old single-DIN size we all remember from the last 20 years, with a neat blue glow, text and mp3 capabilities, and a decent amount of power.

Out back, where purists would expect to find the engine, is a surprisingly commodious trunk area. Offering about three cubic feet, the crescent shape of the storage compartment does impinge upon its utility somewhat, but it’s still more than you’d expect if you flip the seats down to increase the cargo area.

It takes a very special kind of person to buy and drive a New Beetle. Obviously, though, there are enough of you out there for VW to keep building them-eight years, now-and it would seem they must’ve done something right. With this new refreshening, however, the venerable Bug need not rely upon its styling for its appeal quite so much; it’s notably more capable with the new drivetrain. At $16-25,000, if nothing else, the 2006 New Beetle s remarkably affordable for an automotive fashion statement-and less penalizing for those who choose their cars based on fashion in the first place.