Life for this wee Swede hasn't been easy. Low man on the totem pole, bastard half-Asian stepchild to the rest of the family, Volvo's S40 sat idly by in darkened showroom corners while siblings bulked up courtesy the brand's design NordicTrack. Unable to do little but watch its brethren emerge with quickened reflexes, broadened shoulders and finely tailored threads, the colorless S40 must've felt like Billy to the rest of the Baldwins.

But no more. That's because Volvo's finally replaced the (ironically-named) Mitsubishi Carisma doppelganger with something more befitting the brand. As here in T5 guise, that means 'out' with the 1.9-liter light-pressure turbo (a tepid lump that'd barely get out of its own way, let alone stand up at stoplights), and 'in' with a properly force-fed 2.5-liter five-cylinder and six-speed manual. 'Out' with the uninspired oriental NedCar chassis, 'in' with a more robust platform spun from the same cloth as the Mazda3 and Euro-market Ford Focus.

Just days after the Supreme Court ruled that cities could take homes from private owners to build strip malls, the US House of Representatives issued a non-binding condemnation of the court's decision. While the publicity firestorm could eventually result in stronger laws against public seizure of private property, state governments are happy to continue confiscating automobiles like property rights never existed.

The number of excuses given for government automobile seizures is expanding dramatically. Since 1991, the Commonwealth of Virginia has permanently seized 6,450 automobiles for crimes ranging from drug-running to "frequenting a bawdy place." Now other jurisdictions are deploying new technologies to seize cars for the most minor offenses imaginable. The case of New Haven, Connecticut resident Kathy Martone illustrates this appalling erosion of property rights.

Hot rods are preposterous. That's why people love them. The new Magnum SRT-8 is a perfect example; the moment pistonheads clock The Dodge Boys' hot rod hauler they break into a big, stupid grin. Much of the comedic impact comes from simple nostalgia; the Magnum SRT-8 reminds them of pre-pubescent fantasies of unbridled power and unabashed style. In fact, I reckon the chop-top, dub-clad station wagon was born in the back seat of a '67 Chrysler Town and Country, when a proto-car designer watched a young Buck in a hopped-up sedan blow his Mom's doors off. So to speak.

In this case, adult reality matches childhood fantasy. If we're talking about straight line performance (a sensible restriction considering the uber-wagon's wheelbase and weight), the Magnum SRT-8 is fully capable of humiliating even the most muscular metal. Chrysler claims the Magnum SRT-8 will accelerate from zero to sixty in the low five's, and complete a quarter mile in the high 13's. After bellow blasting the beast from a standing start (in the breakdown lane) to a triple digit sprint (down the "set the radar detector on stun" lane), I believe them. This sucker is quick with a capital "K"; as in I'm gonna KICK yo' ass.