2009 Caterham 7

There’s a big difference between myself and Lotus founder Colin Chapman. When I change a flat tire, I find that I have two lug nuts left over. Chapman could create fully functioning sports/racing cars out of the detritus found in the average kitchen junk drawer. One-handed. While sipping tea. The Lotus Seven—later Super 7—is perhaps the best-known and longest-lasting example of his Frankensteinian genius. Debuting in 1957 and running on to 1973 (when Caterham Cars grabbed the baton), the 7 has undergone decades of continuous development yet is essentially the same vehicle that Chapman created. And none the worse for it.
The Caterham 7 is no more styled than a shoe tree. The 7’s tubular space frame is barely spacious enough to affix a De Dion rear suspension with Watts linkage, cradle an engine of your choice, and hold a couple of legless stools upon which drivers are expected to sit. It’s wrapped tight with sheet aluminum and adorned with just enough fiberglass to drape the tires and radiator. A child’s first-grade crayon drawing is more likely to wind up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The car’s real beauty: the non-inclusion of anything that could come between the driver and the road.
The modern Caterham 7 Classic possesses a healthy amount of Chapman’s most cherished auto-mechanical quality: less. Which, of course leads to lightness. At 525 kg (1157.42 lb.), the entry-level Caterham 7 Classic could be hung from a branch on a Christmas tree. Powered by a garden-variety 1.4-litre K-Series engine making all of 105 hp @ 6000 rpm, the most basic of 7s works the neck muscles and adrenal glands plenty. In this guise, we’re torquing 95 lb·ft of twist @ 5000 rpm; 200 bhp-per-tonne; and a zero to sixty sprint of 6.5 seconds.
On the subject of powertrains, there has never been a specific, standard engine for the car. The products of Dearborn have often been Caterham factory favorites, providing a nice squint-and-you-can-almost-see-it link back to Jim Clark’s Lotus/Ford Indy 500 winner. The top-of-the-range CSR200 sports a 200 hp 2.3-litre Cosworth Duratec that will propel the Caterham 7 from nought to sixty in 3.7 seconds.
Due to stern international emissions and safety regulations, the Seven retains its origins as a some-assembly-required box of bits. So it’s left up to the individual re-animator to decide how he or she wants to go about the business of providing propulsion. Caterham 7 spotters will tell you (and tell you and tell you) that it’s not uncommon to find Buick V-8s, Mazda rotaries, motorcycle lumps, or ATWF (anything that will fit) when peeking under the slatted engine lid. No doubt someone somewhere has given steam a go.
The 7’s existence proves that someone automotively-aware coined the term bucket list. For one thing, installing a round driver in the peg-shaped car requires maximum commitment; you can sit down any time you like but you can never leave. At least not easily. The process is and best managed without the “doors” and “roof” that the smirking lads at Caterham call weather “protection.” When in motion, the fabric serves about as much of a purpose as foil-wrapped Trojans, only without even the promise of protection.
Remarkably, approached on even terms, the Dartford dart is not entirely uncomfortable. Sticking with the sexual metaphor (so to speak), the cockpit will never inspire thoughts of paradise-by-the-dashboard-light heir creation. At 6′, 200 lb, and a size 10E foot, I fit just fine, chiropractically speaking.
Once on the move, two thoughts immediately occur: 1) in terms of dynamics, every other road car you’ve driven sucks, and 2) sucks is too delicate a word for the discrepancy between the 7 and non-7s. To state the bleeding obvious, the Seven is a track car first, a road car if you dare. Either way, the Caterham’s non-assisted steering and ventilated front discs (with four pot calipers) transmit every step of their mechanical operation, transforming its driver into a 7borg. The gearbox—here a Ford Sierra 5-speed with a lever no longer than your thumb—rewards with a pleasure that would cheer Lewis Black.
Wind turbulence, even at modest speed, brings to mind skydiving sideways. Communication, should a passenger be brave enough to accompany you, is best left for rest stops or emergency miming, even considering a relative physical proximity usually shared only by newlyweds.
Perhaps the great delight of the Seven is that it’s a rolling polygraph machine. It puts the lie to so much of conventional auto wisdom: a righteous ride requires big power, fat tires, and the latest electronic whiz-bangeroo. True, the Caterham offers variants stuffed with an assortment of wallet-lightening upgrades, add-ons, and gotta-haves. Hey, it’s a living. But just because a menu lists fifteen desserts doesn’t mean your meal should include them all.
No, the Caterham Seven, like its Lotus Seven forebear, is the distillation of what is only necessary for a drive. What it means to drive. That it somewhat resembles a coffin such as the one that currently holds the bones of a certain Mr. Chapman is just one of life’s lovely little ironies.

The last four years were rough sailing for Buick’s flagship having traded its swank Park Avenue home for an understated Swiss bungalow. While its Enclave sibling received a halfhearted Presidential endorsement, Lucerne has been told gently that it has no place in Buick’s future. But you don’t need to be Jim Dollinger to see the silver lining in the Lucerne Super: it stands in sharp contrast to Buick’s confusing dalliances with European chassis and a variety of puny powertrains. Perhaps the 2009 Lucerne Super is more than a Buick. It’s the last stand for what was right with the brand.
The Super is no slouch in the sheetmetal department, considering the Lucerne’s basic goodness has aged well. A redesigned front with a lower, meaner chevron-shaped grille walks the fine line between obnoxious Americana and contemporary Euro-flair. The fast C-pillar with a tastefully understated tail looks good enough to find their way on the Chevy Malibu. And while “Super” specific badging, unique 18″ wheels and distinctive portholes round out the package, the Lucerne does what we expect from Buicks: play second fiddle to Cadillac. And does it with gusto.
But wait a moment: this flagship’s interior has an inferiority complex in this price point or next to a Chevy Malibu. The dashboard’s lower hemisphere is work-truck grade rubbish, further punished by its uncanny resemblance to same part in the Chevy Impala. The Lucerne Super gets a “dash” of faux-aluminum paint around the impressive Harmon Kardon-tuned stereo, but the real upgrades come from a dash top stitched with leather-like trimmings and blessed with Alcantara-ish accents on the seats and doors. Too bad the Super’s extra touches couldn’t dress up that tasteless console and thrift store roll-top door: it’s a sad state of affairs when a Hyundai (Genesis) absolutely tramples a Buick in the luxury and refinement department.
That’s not to say that all is lost, the Lucerne Super has excellent seating for five, gadgets aplenty and a rich wood-rimmed wheel that feels substantial to the touch. Did I mention gadgets? XM Nav traffic, OnStar turn-by-turn guidance, Bluetooth, MP3 adaptability, heated/cooled seats and a heated steering wheel are the textbook definition of pure luxury ingredients for the near-luxury market.
If the Lucerne Super sounds like a compromised but obscurely appealing package from a brand normally associated with pure vanilla nothingness, you’re ready to take the Super for a spin. Buick took the outgoing Lucerne CXS’ dynamic shortcomings and did their best to make a less corner-averse package. Considering the curious starting point of a 4000 lb platform driving the wrong set of wheels though, the challenge is obvious.
The Super starts things off right with 17 more Northstar-bred horses in play. The Lucerne Super’s beautifully vulgar V8 has a hair-raising tenor, pulling harder to redline than the outgoing CXS, even with the four-speed slush box losing mucho revs between shifts. Maybe it’s the loss of 7 lb·ft of torque, but the Last of the Great V8 Buicks feels less likely to torque steer in all but the hardest maneuvers. Fuel mileage and horsepower figures be damned, the Northstar V8 cannot be replaced by GM’s “high-content” 3.6L six pot. Sonically speaking, it’s simply that rewarding at full throttle.
But things get serious when the road takes a turn for the better. And the Lucerne Super handles it with surprising authority: revised springs, a thicker front anti-sway bar and communicative steering rack (with more on-center feel) mate with Delphi’s absolutely sublime Magnaride system for a composed and borderline entertaining corner carver at less than Baruthian speeds. Push harder and there’s an oxcart full of front plow, with little body roll thanks to Magnaride’s magnetic magic.
Braking on such a compliant suspension means there’s more heart attack inducing dive in a panic stop: a genuine concern given the Lucerne’s demographic. Buick’s lane departure and blind spot warning systems keep Octogenarians cool and calm, but their annoyance level makes both gadgets useless outside the realm of pure Interstate travel.
So the Lucerne Super isn’t a credible threat to foreign competitors, but the geeky and ferocious behavior only paints a rich tapestry about this muscular Buick’s persona. The ride is stellar and amazingly quiet at part throttle, easily unseating a comparable Lexus ES: Quiet Tuning über alles, baby.
But what fails the Lucerne Super is the base model: pushrod-V6 Lucernes with even worse interior bits make sure the $45,000 Super is a tough sell. And the Super still straddles the uncomfortable ground between land yacht and sports tourer, but that gray area is now more rewarding.
Too bad the rethought, reincarnated Super cannot overcome the inertia of GM’s incompetence: shameful considering this brand once stood for building “Premium American Motorcars.” Hopefully Buick survives world-car synergies long enough to make a proper Lucerne replacement. If not, here’s a tribute to better days even if they weren’t that great to start.

The giant panda has been largely unchanged for millions of years. Evolution made some nips and tucks, but mostly let the species be. Perhaps because the design is right. Strong, capable, cute as . . . well . . . as a Mini Cooper, also largely unchanged since last we looked. So, is no news good news or has the Mini been left behind?
My Mini was Toy Fire Truck red. They call it something else in the brochure and they’re wrong. The rolling curves, contrasting tones, Bambi eyes and Cheshire Cat smile make you not so much want to drive this car as play with it.
The inside amps up that feeling: Radar screen gauges, rocker switches sourced from a Spitfire—you feel like you’re in Thunder Bird 6. All of the controls move smoothly. Most are supple plastic with only a hint of cheapness in the hard-to-reach places. It’s not intuitive, or even logical sometimes—window lifts sit where ashtrays used to hang. Love it or hate it, the interior is distinctive.
It is also practical. Two ‘growns’ fit just fine up front. Two half-growns fit OK in back. Seats up gives you 5.7 sq. feet of cargo space—less than a sidecar. Seats down and you’ve got 24 sq. feet behind a wide hatch. The aquarium design results in visibility bested only by a convertible. As goofy as the whole design seems, it’s not sacrificing utility.
The car is actually not big on sacrifice. 28, 37, 32 are great measurements . . . for mileage (city, highway, combo). That’s what you get with 118 horsepower. Just when you think you’re giving up fun for the sake of fuel savings, the real charm of the Mini shows.
The dual layshaft Getrag six-speed (a four speed with two output shafts) and snappy clutch let you juice the motor as much as you like. The throws are short, so you can keep the little engine in the biggest part of its power-band. The whole drivetrain has a puppy-waiting-by-the-door attitude.
The electronic steering lets you maximize the engine output. It tightens up nicely at speed and relaxes to park. It’s also one of the elements affected by the Sport button on the shifter boot. Pressing it warns the various on-board computers that mileage is not your primary concern. The steering firms up more quickly and the throttle response hastens. As these things happen anyway after the Mini’s processors have judged you, the button is more affectation than innovation. Still, pushing it helps warn your passengers, too.
Which they will thank you for once you start tossing this thing around. Yes, the car is style-conscious and gitchy [Ed. kitschy?]. The chassis, suspension and brakes give the style substance. The Mini is a fully flauntable sports car, even in base form. The normally aspirated engine doesn’t have the punch of the S model’s power-plant. That also means you can drive flat out loony and never get into trouble. Mini Legal would never let Mini Marketing say this, but I can: Minis can’t be rolled. You will never tip, spin or punch this car beyond your control. Go on. Try.
In whipping your Mini the worst that will happen is tire wear. And that’s great. The sooner you slip out of the run-flats and into something less comfortable the better. I have no complaints with the grip of the stock all seasons; it’s that they so efficiently convert comfort into noise.
Which can be mitigated by any number of the 7.2 million options available for the vehicle. The car is customizable from the dealer in ways previously found only in the truck center. Mine had Bluetooth phone integration and an iPod dock, allowing me to control the MP3 player from the stereo or, even better, right from the steering wheel, correcting the tire noise.
The way most of us use our cars most of the time the Mini is superb. No bragging rights. No smoked Trans Ams at the stoplight. Certainly no crossing the Rubicon. It’s nimble, athletic and supports your life, rather than add a new burden. That’s probably one of the best things you can say about any purchase.
It’s also, I believe, the way the car buying public is headed. As we wake up from the current recession and feel the pressure of pent-up demand, I think an increasing number of consumers are going to be looking a car that does more with less. There will always be a market for a bike ramp with 500 pound feet of torque or a gentleman’s club on 19″ rims. The trend, for the meat of the market, will bend towards usable fun. It already shows in the steadily growing list of Mini competitors. None of which are putting it on the endangered species list

2009 Jaguar XF

Last month, U.S. Jag dealers sold just over a thousand new cars, despite cut-rate financing. While the entire U.S. car market is going South, Jaguar's stuffy image is sending the venerable marque Hades-wise in a supersonic hand basket. The new XF midrange sedan is supposed to reverse these declining fortunes by burying memories of the bulbous, fusty, pudenda-fronted S-Type (not to mention the execrable X-Type). I grabbed an XF fresh off the transporter to see if Jag’s lobbing snowballs in Hell.
Let’s get this out of the way: the new XF’s design is a pale shadow of the C-XF concept’s drop dead gorgeous sheetmetal. We’re talking supermodel versus neighborhood bartender. The XF’s front end is a particularly boring transmogrification; it's a little weird and the snout’s portal smacks of Volvo’s blandest. The central bonnet creases are a particularly classless affectation. In fact, you could say the XF is nothing more than a Volvo in a slutty dress.
The back end almost saves the day; it looks like an Aston Martin. It's fantastic. But Ian Callum gets no props for designing the same car over (DB9) and over (V8 Vantage) and over (Jag XK coupe) and over (XF sedan). If Jaguar was going to show a scintilla of individuality, well, they could have hidden the door handles in the B- and C-pillars.
As for the XF’s interior, we've all seen the boring press pictures included here. The company’s PR photographer should be fired for not doing justice to this four-wheeled shrine to automotive luxury.
The XF’s interior’s fit, finish and materials are the best I’ve ever seen in a production car, without exception. If you're the type of person that appreciates exquisite detailing of a fine watch, you can do nothing but marvel at the XF’s cabin. The wood trim in my optionless "Luxury" trim model could have been fashioned by a bespoke furniture maker. The matte finish is both unique and stunning.
The XF’s attention to detail dusts the usual standard bearer Audi. The vents rotate into view when you start the car up (royalty payment to Volkswagen’s ill-fated Phaeton?). They boast aluminum inserts to move their direction, with the word "Jaguar" elegantly stamped on their surface. We're talking about slivers of material the size of long grain rice. The same beautifully finished metal sits at the bottom of the cupholders. Every surface is sensuous to the touch. For once, a Jag/Ford product feels… finished.
Okay, so the exterior is lame, the interior is otherworldly. How does it drive? In a word: Yes. Yes as in the new XF drives as well as you'd hope any Jaguar would.
Jaguar wanted to build a luxury-sports car in keeping with its distinguished brand heritage– a tradition of which Larry the Law Firm Partner neither knows nor cares. What Larry does care about: beating the crap out of Bob’s Benz E350. And with this car, Larry’s good to go.
Jag’s 4.2 liter V8– a carry-over from the last generation S-Type– is the XF’s standard-fit powerplant. “But it only makes 300 horsepower! Lots of V6 engines do that!" Quit your bitching brand defilers, lest you taste the business end of my tassled loafers pushing you into an Acura RL. Even with "only" 300 horsepower underfoot, the entry-level XF accelerates from zero to sixty miles per hour in about six seconds. Besides, the Jaguar XF driving experience is fleet footed. The six speed auto is slicker than snot on a doorknob. The suspension feels buttoned down, with just enough feedback to keep it fun without being abusive.
There are downsides. While the XF is light on its toes, changing direction with confidence-inspiring predictability and hoon-compatible ease, it doesn’t have everlasting grip. Canst thou squeal like a porcine? The XF’s tires can. And the sport sedan’s steering is far too light for a car with genuine performance aspirations. But overall, driving the XF is like piloting a BMW without the e-Nanny hovering over your shoulder.
So much of this car is so right - the interior, the suspension, the engine and the transmission. Killer depreciation aside, the $50k asking price for a fully loaded V8 XF makes a mockery of the similarly-priced, stripped-out 535i. Unlike the Bimmer, Lexus or Audi equivalents, driving the XF makes you feel special.
It’s too bad that the mid-size Jag’s exterior went from a quaint retro curiosity to an OMG concept car to a quintessentially boring sedan. If Jag had found a way to keep the CX-F’s drama, they would have had a huge hit on their hands. As it stands now, all they have is a bit of time to kill before Ford sells Jaguar or, let’s face it, pulls the plug. Even as a swan song, the XF lacks the looks it needs to fly.

2010 Nissan Sentra

You know that pubescent second cousin with the thick glasses and the scrawny arms who quizzes you at family reunions with the latest automotive minutiae? Potential questions for this year concern the 2010 Nissan Sentra, so pay attention. (Or don’t, and ignore the kid and head back for more KFC and macaroni salad.)
All six available Sentra trim levels get new head- and taillights and new interior fabrics, while the three with no sporting pretensions—those would be the base 2.0, 2.0 S, and 2.0 SL—get new grilles and fascias to boot. New fog-light covers appear on the 2.0 and 2.0 S, but the 2.0 SL keeps its old fog lights.
The SL trim gets most of the attention. The previously included leather seats are broken out into a standalone option package, dropping the price $1100—and re-adding leather costs only $700. Additional standard equipment includes an audio head unit with a 4.3-inch display, traction and stability control, a new 16-inch aluminum wheel design, and an optional navigation system that won’t be available until January 2010.
SL models also get chrome body-side and trunk trim shared with the S trim level, which also gets new 16-inch wheel covers, and all trim levels except the most base 2.0 get new iPod integration standard.
The 2010 Sentra is on sale now, with base prices ranging from $17,320 to $20,800 including delivery. Now you know the details. But maybe you should still pretend you don’t. That poor kid doesn’t have much going for him.

2010 Hyundai Tucson - Auto Shows

Hyundai’s stand at the Frankfurt auto show in September will feature a funky redesign of the Tucson SUV.
To be called the ix35 in Europe, the updated Tucson is the product of Hyundai’s new design center in Germany. The company says the curvy body lines reflect the “fluidic sculpture” design language that we first saw in the Ix-onic concept at the Geneva auto show—in fact, the new Tucson is almost an exact copy of the Ix-onic. The result is a futuristic shape with fresh lines that’s far more exciting than the staid Tucson currently prowling the world’s roads.
It’s probably about time for an updated Tucson, as the current model remains essentially unchanged since its 2004 debut. The last time we drove a Tucson, in February 2008, it finished eighth in a nine-SUV comparison test. The car felt dated and seemed to be geared toward more, ahem, dated drivers. Current U.S.-market drivetrains on our shores are a 2.0-liter inline-four and an available 2.7-liter V-6; all-wheel drive is optional. The new model will offer all-wheel drive and diesel engine choices, the latter likely only for Europe.
European and Korean versions of the SUV will launch within the next six months. The U.S. will also get its new Tucson in the next year, but we’ll have to wait a while for specifics.

Mercedes reveals details of new E-class estate

Mercedes has offered a sneak preview of its new E-class estate, due to be officially unveiled at the Frankfurt show in September.
Get superb car deals delivered free each week

New E-class estate has same curvy bodywork as the saloon
The new Mercedes-Benz E-class estate is big – boasting a maximum of 1,950 litres of luggage space, it easily outstrips premium brand rivals.
Despite the exaggerated angle to the rear roofline and the more curvaceous new E-class bodywork, the maximum load-lugging capacity for the new Mercedes E-class estate is 40 litres more than the model it replaces.
That’s also considerably better than class rivals, such as the Audi A6 Avant and BMW 5 Series Touring, which can muster only 1,660- and 1,650-litres, respectively.

Merc estate should have class-leading boot space

However, that is with the rear seats folded flat - an operation easily completed via a pair of levers in the boot. Mercedes is yet to confirm how much space you get with the rear seats in place, but we can confidently suggest it will be close to or better than the class-leading 690 litres of the current E-class estate.

In case the massive boot isn't big enough, there's another storage compartment under the floor
Supplementing the wardrobe-swallowing space, Mercedes has thought to include an automatic opening and closing tailgate as standard, and a folding load compartment floor.
These, and the multi-position load cover, come under a new ‘Easy-Pack’ description for the car’s practicality features.
The new E-class estate is also the only car in its class to be offered with an optional folding bench seat in the boot.

Safety and comfort a priority for E-class

Self-levelling rear suspension ensures that whatever you’re carrying the vehicle’s handling will remain in balance.
This works in partnership with adaptive damping carried over from the E-class saloon to ensure safety and comfort at all times - though the estate does feature slightly stiffer suspension, compensating for the extra weight of its additional bodywork.
Furthermore, The E-class estate is available with all of the E-class saloon’s cutting-edge safety kit. This includes nine airbags and Mercedes’ ‘attention assist’ system as standard.
The latter monitors the driver for signs of drowsiness, and issues an alert if it believes they are about to fall asleep.
Passenger comfort should also be better than the existing E-class estate, too, thanks to greater width and headroom in the rear.

Eco diesels lead E-class engine range

Engine choices for the new car include Mercedes’ efficient new 2.2-litre turbodiesel, which returns 48.7mpg and emits 150g/km CO2. This is available with either 167bhp or 201bhp.
In fact, the diesel options are so impressive it’s almost not worth bothering to mention the petrol alternatives. But rest assured four-cylinder, V6 and V8 petrol E-class estates will be available - topped off by an E 63 AMG performance version, available shortly after the initial launch.
UK pricing and specification details for the new Mercedes-Benz E-class estate are yet to be announced. The estate makes its public debut at the Frankfurt motor show in September, before arriving in dealerships in early 2010.