What is a Buick? Having saved the brand, GM must now figure out what to do with it. Traditionally Buick occupied the middle ground between Chevrolet and Cadillac, originally closer to the latter but from the 1970s onwards dangerously close to the former, which had expanded upwards in lockstep with archrival Ford. Aesthetically, Buicks have been the yin to Cadillac’s yang, curvier, less aggressive, and potentially more appealing to women. (Or metrosexuals? Did women ever drive a significant number of Rivs and Park Avenues?) Logically, there ought to be a position within this position for a compact car. Some people want a softly styled, upscale car, but don’t need a large car. But successfully fielding a car in this position has been tricky. The Lexus HS finds only a couple hundred takers each month. Jaguar abandoned the segment a few years ago, and Volvo quit it more recently. So does the Buick Verano stand a chance?

Looks

A car needn’t be beautiful to sell—but it doesn’t hurt. Based on spy shots of prototypes I expected the Verano to be downright ugly, with an overly raked windshield and its requisite windowlettes throwing off the proportions. But in production form, with appropriately styled 18-inch alloy wheels (GM has for once made the right size wheel the only size), the Verano is a handsome car. No Jaguar, but certainly more attractive than the HS and more upscale than the Chevrolet Cruze (with which it shares a platform). But it’s not the strikingly attractive car it could have been. Will many people notice the compact Buick on the street? Will any of them have a “gotta have it” reaction? One thing is certain: the Verano won’t step on the Cadillac ATS’s toes.

Luxury

The Verano’s interior isn’t as nice as that of the Lexus, but is a half-step up from that of the Chevrolet Cruze. You’ll find no cheap bits, yet the sense lingers that this isn’t quite a premium car. While intelligent design stylishly inserts a soft-touch face into the hard plastic instrument panel, the overly hard, overly thin door pulls seem pedestrian. The seats, though comfortable and supportive, lack power recline. Even compact Mazdas and Suzukis—hardly makes known for luxury—offer this feature. Can a car be “premium” without it? Rear seat legroom is marginal for adults, though ample space for feet beneath the front seats helps. A non sequitur: the steering wheel is too thick, which could turn off many potential female buyers.

Powah

Luxury car buyers don’t typically make runs for the redline. But this is entirely the point: they don’t want to feel the need to go anywhere near the redline. Instead, they want a car’s acceleration to feel effortless and for its engine to be felt but not heard. The Verano’s 180-horsepower 2.4-liter engine is stronger than the Cruze’s 138-horsepower 1.4 turbo, but it’s also naturally aspirated with a high (4,900 rpm) torque peak. To move 3,300 pounds of compact Buick, the fourhas to rev. It’s willing and able to do this, and with a modicum of refinement, but like the styling the engine isn’t going to inspire people to reach for their checkbooks. GM plans to also offer the Verano with a 250-horsepower 2.0-liter turbo, and this engine should be a better fit for the car’s mission.

Economy

So far we have nothing making Buick’s new compact sedan a “must have,” but also nothing that’s likely fatal. But then, as Ed Niedermeyer pointed out in his thorough evaluation of the Verano, there’s fuel economy. EPA ratings of 22 city and 31 highway don’t even compare well to four-cylinder midsize cars, much less other compacts. In suburban driving, the trip computer usually reported between 20 and 25, with high 20s happening only with favorable traffic signals and a feather-light right foot. Even the two-ton, 240-horsepower, all-wheel-drive 528i does a bit better (in my real-world testing as well as on the window sticker). Of course, the Lexus HS has sold poorly despite 35/34 ratings, so fuel economy isn’t everything.

Ride and Handling

The biggest surprise here is how the Verano rides and handles. It’s more tightly damped than a Chevrolet Cruze, with nary a hint of the float that once typified Buicks. Yet the car’s ride is still comfortable, with admirable composure over rough pavement. You’ll feel and hear the bumps and divots, but not overly much (this is a VERY quiet car), and they’re quickly dispatched. Hard cornering flushes out moderate amounts of body roll and front tire scrub, but overall the car is well controlled. The largest killjoys are visibility-impeding A-pillars and numb steering. Fix the last, and they’d about have the chassis where it needs to be—if people can get their heads around the idea of an athletic Buick. (Lexus can’t seem to overcome a similar perceptual challenge.)

Pricing

Some good stuff so far, but nothing outstanding. Sow how is the compact Buick outselling the compact Lexus by nearly an order of magnitude (2,497 in March)? Pricing. A leather-upholstered Verano like the one tested lists for $26,850. For a sunroof add $900, for nav $795. Not cheap, surely. After adjusting for feature differences (with TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool) the compact Buick checks in about $2,000 above a Cruze or Focus. But this leaves it about $5,000 below an Acura TSX and nearly $12,000 below a Lexus HS 250h (details). Even if we allow a generous $4,000 for the HS’s hybrid bits, the reason for the car’s slow sales becomes clear.

The midsize Buick Regal is about $3,000 more. Notably, its sales in March were down about 1,000 from a year ago. The suffering will increase once the Verano is available with a more powerful engine (assuming reasonable pricing). The new car’s sales suddenly seem less impressive.

Verdict

The Buick Verano, like the larger Regal, is positioned a quarter-step above the related Chevrolet. A little more style, slightly upgraded materials, a smattering of additional features, moderately firmer suspension tuning, a two-grand bump on the window sticker. A pleasant car, even surprisingly so in some areas (quietness, suspension tuning), but not an outstanding one. Not enough of an upgrade to directly compete with Acura, Lexus, and the Europeans, but not priced to directly compete with them, either. The upside: no direct competitors. The downside: no direct competitors—potential buyers might have trouble categorizing the cars. In appearance, content, and pricing the Verano (like other Buicks) is much closer to the related Chevrolet than to its alleged competitors. While this minimized the effort required to create it, GM should do what it takes to split the difference more evenly.

Buick provided the car with insurance and a tank of gas.

Michael Karesh operates TrueDelta.com, an online provider of car reliability and real-world fuel economy information.

GM’s track record has been less than stellar. First we had the Saturn Vue Green Line, a very “mild” hybrid that paled next to competitors like the Ford Escape. Next came the extraordinarily expensive 2-mode hybrid system used in GM’s pickup trucks and full-sized SUVs, which cost far too much and delivered far too little. Finally, we have the Volt – ’nuff said. No wonder GM’s latest hybrid endeavor has come to market with little fanfare, no “hybrid” logos on the vehicle and no hybrid branding from GM. Can we honestly call the 2012 Buick LaCrosse eAssist a hybrid?

While the LaCrosse’s styling is dominated by slab sides and FWD proportions, the overall look is handsome, even elegant. Compared to the ES350, the Buick looks a touch more sedate while looking less like its kissing cousin the Chevy Malibu. The fairly high belt-line and increasingly popular four-door-coupe roof-line give the 16.5 foot long Buick an almost modern flair (without being so modern as to drive away traditional Buick shoppers.) Despite the modern styling, Buick has stuck to their dubious “ventiports” which make even less sense now than before with our 4-cylinder LaCrosse sporting six portholes. Maybe port 5 represents the motor and 6 is the battery?

While the new LaCrosse’s interior is not class leading in any way, it is uniquely styled. Personally I’m not a fan of the steeply sloped doors but the 40-inches of rear leg room may compensate for that. The dashboard in our tester sported Buick’s new “stitched” dash which is an injection molded plastic dash that has “cuts”  molded in and is then stitched with thread to give the look of a stitched dash without the cost. Overall, the effect works, but the acres of fake wood are less convincing. I understand the need to differentiate between Cadillac and Buick, but the lack of real tree in the LaCrosse is a problem when Buick’s self-proclaimed Lexus competition having plenty of burl-forest standard.

While many hybrid vehicles ditch the folding rear seats due to the battery pack’s location, the LaCrosse continues to offer a pass-through – although it is about 50% smaller than the V6 model’s hole-in-the-trunk. Also on the list of complaints is a trunk that has shrunk to 10.7 cubic feet and is still hampered by trunk hinges that restrict the cargo area. The lost space is given to the hybrid battery pack and associated cooling ducts. Instead of a spare tire in the trunk you’ll find an empty cavity with a tire inflation kit. Why not toss the battery into the unused spare tire space?

The first generation Belt-Alternator-Starter or BAS system GM used in the Saturn Vue and Chevy Malibu “hybrids” was unloved by the press, ignored by shoppers and euthanized after a short time on the market. Instead of trying to resurrect the fantastically expensive “two-mode”  system, GM went back to basics and fixed what was wrong with the BAS hybrid in the first place. GM threw out the ancient 4-speed automatic and replaced it with a new 6-speed unit. The two extra gears allowed Buick to change the final drive ratio for better “hybrid” performance while still having a fairly broad range of lower gears for passing and take-off. Next, they ditched the low-capacity 36V NiMH battery replacing it with a modern 115V lithium-ion pack. The transformation was finished off by a liquid-cooled motor/generator packing three times the punch of the previous generation (15HP and 79lb-ft of torque). In addition to being more powerful, the motor and electronics are designed for nearly continuous use allowing the hybrid system to operate over a broader range of speeds and conditions. The result is a 0.2 second improvement in the LaCrosse’s 0-60 time and a 25% improvement in fuel economy over the outgoing un-eAssisted LaCrosse. Despite the improvements, GM decided to take a cautious approach and is not calling the new system a hybrid, nor are they including the motor’s assistance in the 182 horsepower or 172 lb-ft torque numbers. The ES350, on the other hand, is inexplicably unavailable as a hybrid.

The addition of a battery and motor alone didn’t achieve the 25 MPG city and 36 MPG highway numbers – the Lacrosse eAssist relies on  active grille shutters, altered gear ratios, low rolling resistance tires, a new trunk spoiler, and aero improvements under the car to help get these numbers. The combination of eAssist and the other improvements are what increase the all-important combined economy score from 23 mpg to a 29 mpg. The highway figure of 36 mpg is possible due to the new final drive ratio, which allows the 2.4L engine to spin at a leisurely 2,000 RPM at 70MPH. Without eAssist, this would be a problem upon encountering a slight rise in the terrain as GM’s 6-speed auto is notoriously reluctant to down shift. Fortunately, the 79lb-ft of torque provided by the BAS motor enables the LaCrosse to deal with freeway overpasses and gentle rolling hills without downshifting or slowing. In comparison, the Acura TL delivers 20/29 MPG, the ES350 is less efficient at 19/28 and the Lincoln MKS rounds out the bottom of this pack at 17/25. The Buick is by far the least powerful in this group and some might rightly compare it to Lincoln’s premium hybrid, the MKZ, which returns 41/36 MPG, but the MKZ is a smaller vehicle.

Our LaCrosse averaged 29.9MPG during our 674 mile week with the car. While the start/stop system helped keep the LaCrosse from sipping fuel at stoplights, the system has to idle the engine to run the air conditioning so your mileage in hotter climates is likely to vary considerably. If you value MPGs over cool air, there’s an “ECO” button which tells the car to sacrifice cabin cooling in the name of efficiency. The transmission is fairly smooth, but to aid energy-regeneration, the 6-speed unit is programmed to be as eager to downshift when slowing as it is to upshift when accelerating. No matter what the engine and transmission are doing, the cabin remains eerily quiet due to some extensive work on the sound insulation. This car isn’t just quiet for a near-luxury car, it’s quiet for any car, period. Serenity does have a downside, as my better half was quite put off by the engine start/stops and downshifts when stopping, which were made somewhat more prominent by the silence. Personally, they didn’t bother me at all so be sure to get in a good road test before you live with the car.

On the tech front, our LaCrosse was equipped with the standard 8-inch touchscreen radio and optional navigation system. I found the user interface considerably easier to use than the system in the Cadillac CTS, and was amused by graphics and colors reminiscent of Star Trek The Next Generation. Buyers not willing to spend $1,345 on the optional nav system, can still get turn-by-turn directions via OnStar, although only the first 6 months of the service are free. iPhone and iPod integration are easy to use, and the user interface is very responsive. Unfortunately the maze of physical buttons are not as intuitive as the on-screen menus. Even after a week, I was unable to stab a button in the dark without taking my eyes off the road. Buick offers blind-spot monitoring on the LaCrosse in a $1,440 “confidence package” which also includes steering xenon headlamps and GM’s vacuum-fluorescent heads up display. You can see some images of the HUD in the gallery below. The monochrome display shows basic navigation instructions, speed and a digital tach but falls well short of the polish BMW’s HUD possesses. Absent at any price is adaptive cruise control or collision warning, features available in a majority of the competition including the ES350.

Out on the road the LaCrosse handles just like you’d expect from 3,835lbs of Buick; it squats, dives and serves up plenty of body roll in the corners, but then again so do the Lexus, Hyundai Azera and Lincoln MKS. If you want sporty and can handle the looks, roll into an Acura dealership for a TL. Buick has set pricing for the LaCrosse eAssist at $29,045 for the base model. Should you step up to the “LaCrosse with Convenience Group” at $29,600, you can choose between the 303 HP V6 or the eAssist drivetrain for the same price. AWD LaCrosse models are available only with the 3.6L engine. While Buick is quick to call the engines choice a “no-cost option”, the eAssist base model is $2,830 more than last year’s base four-cylinder model. At essentially 30-large, the base eAssist LaCrosse compares favorably with the $36,725 base price of the ES350.

As our week with the LaCrosse ended I was more confused about eAssist than I was when it started. This confusion has nothing to do with the actual system itself which worked flawlessly and had a decent impact on fuel economy, it had everything to do with GM’s naming conventions. Somehow I’m not be surprised that the first hybrid viable hybrid from GM, mild or otherwise, would receive little fanfare. While the LaCrosse will never set your heart alight with excitement, it combines an excellent ride, cabin noise levels that Rolls Royce engineers are probably trying to replicate and decent fuel economy with a $35,195 as tested MSRP. While I’d probably still buy the more expensive ES350 ($41,240 similarly equipped), the Buick is a solid product with decent mileage at a compelling price.

Buick provided the vehicle, one tank of gas and insurance for this review

Specifications as tested

0-30 MPH: 2.8 Seconds

0-60 MPH: 7.9 Seconds

1/4 Mile: 16.22 Seconds at 85.7 MPH

Average Fuel Economy: 29.9 MPG over 674 miles

The official reasoning behind GM failing to bring the Opel Insignia OPC, according to Buick PR staff, is that the all-wheel drive, twin-turbo V6 powered sedan with 321 horsepower “didn’t fit with the brand image”. Right. The real reason is likely that a Buick Regal GS outfitted like this would cost far more than the already expensive $35,310 that GM wants for a car. And if the market for a $35,000 manual transmission Buick is limited, well – imagine who would buy a $45,000-$50,000 AWD Regal.

The 270 horsepower Regal GS is, say it with me front-wheel drive. If  that means “wrong wheel drive” in your books, close the browser window immediately and go back to The Car Lounge. GM has something called a HiPer strut front suspension, a modified MacPherson strut design that reduces torque steer and increases steering feel by playing with the suspension geometry and separating the steering and suspension components. When paired with the adjustable shocks and sticky rubber available on the Regal GS, the system allows the Regal to maintain exceptional composure through the sweeping curves (and crappy pavement) of Northern Michigan.

The sweet chassis is backed up by a 2.0L turbocharged Ecotec making 270 horsepower and 295 lb-ft. While torque steer is present, it’s manageable and only presents briefly. 60 mph comes up in 6.7 seconds according to GM – the Regal GS feels much faster than that. No hero-launches were attempted during our drive, but the Regal GS is what the British rags would call a “fast point-to-point car”. The Regal GS really shines when covering a lot of ground in a short amount of time. A broad torque band, a composed chassis and a docile nature can allow most people to exploit the considerable performance of a Regal GS. On paper, it may not be as impressive as an Audi S4 but in the real world, on an open road, there’s little to suggest that the Regal couldn’t hang with the 4-ringed car. The Brembo brakes on the Regal GS are also outstanding, with great feel through the pedal and strong, consistent performance even with repeated hard uses.

In typical GM fashion, there are more than a couple of flaws that are tough to overlook. The steering is weighty when the “GS” button on the dash is activated, but offers as much feedback as a bad boss. The 6-speed manual seems so promising but delivers so little. The shifter’s throws are a pastiche of every negative adjective in the auto journalism handbook – rubbery, dead-feeling, long and inaccurate. Furthermore, the pedals are totally unsuited to heel-and-toe shifting, making rev matching out of the question unless your feet are child-sized. Heretical as it may be, opting for the automatic gearbox on the Regal GS might not be a bad thing. (At launch just the manual transmission is being offered). Only the most fanatical DIY-shifting types need apply for this dreadful bit of engineering. The interior of the Regal isn’t bad overall, but has a very particular “General Motors” feel. Many of the buttons, cabin materials and readouts are sourced from the common parts bin, something that is barely acceptable on a vehicle that’s ostensibly positioned as a luxury car. The center console is a mess of buttons that’s confusing to the eye. The front seats do a good job of keeping you in place without being uncomfortable, but the back seats are tight. Don’t expect to use them for anything more than taking friends to dinner.

The subtle additions to the exterior, like larger wheels, tasteful chrome accents and dual exhausts help the Regal GS keep a low profile. Order it in an understated color like black or silver and you’ve got a genuine sleeper on your hands. The big hurdle for the Regal GS will be finding buyers, even true enthusiasts, who may not be able to look past its discreet exterior (some may consider it boring) and the front-drive/turbo 4-cylinder powerplant. The notion of “wrong-wheel drive” is laughable given that the Regal GS is a far superior driving machine to the dreadful base CTS trim levels and Audi has no trouble pushing the A4 2.0T (which is about as engaging as a PBS telethon) onto the status-hungry masses.

Which is exactly the problem. A lot of people need to tell their friends just how good their purchases. Think how ridiculous it sounds to the average person that someone bought a turbocharged, stick shift Buick for $35k. Others have suggested it’s not quite up to snuff compared to the competition – that’s nonsense. The Regal GS has enough power to get you some serious speeding tickets. And unlike a BMW 335i, your fuel pump won’t explode. The big problem with the Regal GS is getting consumers to sign on the dotted line. The Regal GS would probably be a fine product for anyone who ever bought a turbo Saab, but how many of those were sold in the last decade or two?

Derek Kreindler originally drove the Buick Regal GS in August, 2011. Buick provided airfare, lodging and meals for the trip to Traverse City, MI.

The exterior tweaks work for me. They lend the Regal a sportier face, without going over the top. The optional dubs—perhaps a bit over the top. Even the standard 19s look a bit too large for the car. Inside…well the interior is pretty much the same, just with larger bolsters on the seats. So the parts look and feel high in quality, and are subtly stylish. But why no tweaks to take the GS up a notch?

A little colored thread could go a long way towards relieving the cabin’s almost overwhelming darkness. While they’re at it, my brain would much more easily process a tach numbered in the thousands to the current one, which is numbered (late model VW style) in the hundreds. The revised front seats do provide more lateral support, but like those in the regular Regal aren’t especially luxurious or comfortable. The rear seat is more cramped than it ought to be given the car’s generous exterior dimensions. The average adult will it, but not very comfortably.

Quite a few people were disappointed upon learning that the Regal GS would be propelled by a 270-horsepower 2.0-liter turbocharged four driving only the front two wheels. In Europe you can buy the closely related Opel Insignia with a 325-horsepower turbocharged V6 and all-wheel-drive. But GM is likely correct that the over $40,000 price the OPC’s powertrain would require would be too high for too many potential North American buyers.

My personal fear: the hi-po 2.0T would sound and feel too much like the raucous earlier incarnation that powered the initially-hot-soon-afterwards-dead Pontiac Solstice GXP and Saturn SKY Redline. Perhaps good for rekindling memories of turbocharged 1980s Regals, but not fitting for a semi-premium brand. I needn’t have worried. If anything the new engine is too smooth and too quiet, revving all the way to its 6,350 rpm fuel cutoff with absolutely no drama and surprisingly little noise. You can cruise down a residential street with the tach needle at 5k and fail to attract a glance. At idle the exhaust is barely audible, above idle there’s just a refined whir. Evidence of the turbo is limited to a faint puff when getting on or off the throttle. There’s no sharp transition as boost builds.

The downside of this unexpected refinement: if I didn’t know better, I’d never have guessed there were anywhere near 270 horsepower under the hood. Could Oshawa have installed the wrong engine? On paper, GM’s latest 3.6-liter V6 isn’t as strong through the midrange, with twenty fewer pound-feet (275 vs. 295) at a much higher peak (4,900 vs. 2,500), but my butt dyno reports otherwise. While the car’s 3,710-pound curb weight doesn’t help, the larger problem is the engine’s flat torque curve and lack of aural feedback: the Regal GS is quicker than it feels. If you must choose, would you rather a car be quick or feel quick?

The shifter for the six-speed manual (the only transmission offered initially) glides smoothly and with a minimum of effort from gear to gear. Though I’d personally prefer more “snick” as each gear is engaged, this is a huge improvement over GM’s past manuals in front-drivers (that in the late, unlamented Pontiac G6 GTP was among the worst I’ve ever experienced).

Even with nearly 300 pound-feet of torque delivered entirely through the front wheels, there’s no evidence of torque steer. Credit GM’s HiPer strut front suspension, where the upper steering pivot moves from the strut mount to a ball joint located outboard of the strut. This yields a more vertical “kingpin” axis about which the wheel and tire revolve as the steering wheel is turned, a reduced offset between this axis and the tire’s contact patch, and a reduced scrub radius (the distance between where this axis hits the road and the tire’s contact patch).

Though this suspension design was first offered in the Buick LaCrosse CXS, the tauter, better damped suspension tuning of the Regal GS much better realizes its potential. Driven aggressively along a curvy road the car feels, if anything, too poised and planted. With the HiPer Struts’ superior geometry keeping the wheels nearly perpendicular to the road surface through much of their travel, the 255/35ZR20 Pirelli P-Zero tires provide a surprising amount of grip given the Regal’s front-heavy weight distribution. On any but the most challenging public roads you’ll remain far from the sticky rim protectors’ limits, and will detect hardly any understeer. Partly because the front tires slip so little in typical driving, and partly because of some side effects of the HiPer Strut suspension geometry, there’s not much in the way of steering feedback. The Regal’s helm is nevertheless reassuringly precise while the chassis exudes the calm competence most often found in the best German sedans. Drama? Not here. A Cadillac CTS Touring Edition or Volvo S60 R-Design (reviews in the near future) feels rambunctious in comparison. Much larger and heavier, as well. The Regal drives smaller and lighter than it actually is. You point, the Regal goes. Just pay attention to the speedometer—it’s likely going much faster than your senses perceive.

The Regal GS has adaptive shocks with three selectable modes as standard equipment. I didn’t notice much difference between the settings aside from a slightly jiggly ride in “GS” mode. But even in that mode the ride is far from harsh—the Regal is one of the best-riding cars I’ve tested in recent memory. Not remotely cushy or floaty, but maintaining an even keel and precise body control over all but the worst pavement. Some cars with premium labels will toss you about and jostle you considerably more.

Load up a Regal GS with all available options, as with the tested car, and the sticker climbs from $35,310 to $38,785 (including $495 for the “white diamond” paint). Too high for a not-quite-midsize Buick? Problem is, if you’re seeking a powerful manual transmission sedan, you don’t have many less expensive options. Make that a single less expensive option, by my quick count: a Subaru Legacy GT runs about $3,400 less. But adjusting for feature differences using TrueDelta’s Car Price Comparison tool cuts this in half—even though the Subaru has all-wheel-drive go for a $1,700 adjustment in its favor. The Buick is a much more solid car with a much higher level of content.

Every other sedan with well over 200 horsepower and a manual transmission costs significantly more. The least expensive roughly equivalent car, the Infiniti G37, lists for over $4,000 more. A 211-horsepower Audi A4 2.0T? About $6,600 more even after a $1,700 adjustment for its all-wheel-drive system (the two are otherwise closely matched in terms of features). Of course, if you want (or at least need) an automatic there are far more less expensive choices, including a couple from Korea.

The major fault with the Regal GS follows from its greatest strength. Some team within GM clearly put a tremendous amount of effort into refining the powertrain and chassis of this car. The end result is smooth and quiet to a fault. Want a car that you can drive quickly with a minimum increase in your pulse? The Regal GS will deliver. But if you’re looking for a car that will elevate your heart rate, you’ll likely be disappointed unless the roads you regularly drive twist and turn like an epileptic snake. Even in GS form the Regal remains a car of subtle strengths.

Tested car provided by Carol Moran-Charron of Art Moran Buick in Southfield, MI. Carol can be reached at 248-353-9000.

Michael Karesh operates TrueDelta.com, an online provider of car reliability and real-world fuel economy information.

In a luxury market that’s always looking for the next big thing, “Compact Luxury” has become something of a hot trend. And with GM’s Buick brand saved from the bailout-era brand cull, a compact Buick is a key test of whether The General has moved past its bad habits of cynical badge engineering. Thus the 2012 Buick Verano is a hugely important car to The General, not only serving as a bellweather for the health of the Buick brand, but also proving whether or not GM “gets” the tough-to-crack entry-luxury market. So, does the Verano measure up?

From the get-go, it’s clear that GM wanted the Verano to be a clean break from its ignominious past of rebadging Chevy compacts. In sharp contrast from Buick’s last compact, the Skylark which died out in 1998, the Verano hides its Chevrolet roots well from the outside. With only a subtle “hockey stick” character line betraying its Opel roots, the Verano is neither a rebadged Euro-market sedan (like the Regal) nor a “pure” Buick design like the LaCrosse. But it does split the difference between the two designs, marrying a subtle design with a few discrete Buick cues like the hood-mounted ventiports. The overall impression is of a clean, classy car that is, if anything, possibly a bit too substantial and anonymous… which, upon further reflection, makes it quite Buick-like.

Inside, GM’s newfound parts-bin savvy takes center stage: just as the Regal was rebadged from a different market, the Verano’s interior is borrowed but not duplicative. The seats, which are some of the best available in the compact class, are the huge, well-bolstered thrones from the LaCrosse. The IP, which is visually and ergonomically more approachable than the somber, button-laden Regal unit, is borrowed (with a few modifications) from the Opel Astra… which just so happens to be getting a new sedan variant soon. Especially in the warmer, lighter shades that Buick makes available, the soft-touch interior with its subtle chrome accents makes even the LTZ Cruze seem a bit cold and cheesy.

On the other hand, I do have one beef on the materials front. At Chevy’s Centennial event in Detroit a Chevy interior specialist told me that GM’s mass-market brand was moving away from “materials that look like something they’re not,” a direction I find highly laudable. Sadly, GM’s “thoughtful luxury” brand is a bit behind the curve in this respect, employing great swaths of brushed-nickle-look plastic around the IP and elsewhere. Though it looks good from a distance, it takes only the most superficial contact (or even thought) to realize that it’s just another hard plastic. In an interior that otherwise hits its cues well, this is something of a letdown, especially from a brand that seeks to emphasize subtlety and substance.

With the Cruze already earning accolades for being one of the most quiet and refined cars in the Compact segment, one had to wonder just how far GM would go to differentiate the Verano in this respect. The answer: much farther than you’d think. The Verano is packed with more sound-deadening foams and sealants than a Guantanamo Bay interrogation room, adding several hundred 10-15 pounds to its weight (additional weight increases compared to Cruze come from wheels, drivetrain, and additional length, say Buick reps) but delivering a shockingly quiet cabin. Puttering around town in a deathly silence, I rolled my window  down a few times for contrast, and was blown away at the wealth of aural feedback that would flood in only to be blocked when I rolled the window back up again. If you’re looking for a quiet compact, you’d be hard pressed to find a more effectively isolating model than the Verano.

That principle applies to the Verano’s 2.4 liter inline four-cylinder as well. Though frequent drivers of GM products will recognize the unmistakable buzz of an Ecotec under the hood, a special airbox gives the mill a more refined, intake-dominated engine note. Though I’d stop short of calling it musical, it sounds and feels considerably more sweet than any other Ecotec, especially at higher RPMs. Which is where you’ll probably spend quite a bit of time: though this 2.4 also does service in the larger Regal and Malibu sedans, it still has to work hard to hustle 3,300+ lbs of compact car around. Stuck behind a log truck on one of Oregon’s winding two-lane country roads? Make sure you have plenty of room and time to pass, as pickup is adequate rather than luxurious. On the other hand, if you kick back and cruise, said truck could jake-brake for miles without ever disturbing the cabin’s serene ambience.

Normally a Buick tuned for quiet, refined cruising would not be let down by weakness in the engine room. But strangely, the Verano has far more responsive (even twitchy) steering than you might expect, and it rotates around its short wheelbase to an extent that surprises… even coming from the more sport-oriented Regal. Though I personally prefer the Regal, the Verano can be even more fun than a base Regal, which is even more let down by the underwhelming 2.4. There’s no hiding the Verano’s heft, and too much fun will leave it a bit breathless, but there’s more directness and feel from the ZF electric steering rack than you might expect. If you’re looking for some real sport to go with your compact luxury, the Verano may not quite fit the bill… but a forthcoming Verano Coupe is starting to look quite promising.

Perhaps what makes the Verano feel more sporty than I expected is the simple fact that it’s a compact car… because from the driver’s seat it doesn’t feel like one. There’s a good impression of space up front, and the LaCrosse-sourced seats are large and excellent. Unfortunately, the large size of those front seats do cut back on rear-seat legroom, which loses an inch and a half compared to the Cruze (front and rear combined legroom is 76 inches, the same as an Audi A3). As a result, the rear seat impression is considerably less luxurious and less Buick-like than the front-row experience. Is this the price of entry into the compact luxury field?

This brings up another important question, and one that gets to the heart of the Verano’s most basic flaw: why do buyers want a smaller luxury car? Though marketers may bring up a number of reasons, it seems the most key consideration is fuel economy rather than smallness for its own sake. And here the Verano lets down its entire mission: 21/31 (city/highway, GM’s estimate) isn’t even competitive for a midsized car, let alone a compact. For comparison, Audi’s A6, Chrysler’s 300 V6, and BMW’s 528i xDrive and 640i Convertible are all rated at 31 MPG on the freeway or better. Closer to home, Buick’s larger Regal also gets a 31 MPG freeway rating with the same 2.4 liter and even does one better on the freeway with its optional turbo engine.

Of course, the Regal is a very different car than the Verano. Whereas Buick’s compact is a quiet, comfy cruiser with an emphasis on isolation, the Regal is pure Euro-market, with its firm, flat seats, sombre interior and handling-tuned suspension. In other words, the Verano’s engineers hit their brief dead-on: they built a well-executed, refined baby Buick that avoids direct competition with other models in the range. Unfortunately, GM’s managers seemed more intent on building a compact luxury car for its own sake (or for Buick-GMC dealer throughput numbers’ sake) than really understanding why compact luxury appeals to buyers. Until Buick decides to equip Verano with its EcoAssist mild hybrid system, it seems to be a compact luxury car without the key appeal of its segment, namely competitive fuel economy. As the saying goes: great landing, wrong airport.

Buick made the Verano (as well as a Regal for comparison) available for this review at a media event. Buick provided lunch, and later sent a set of water glasses made from old wine bottles to me, to commemorate the event’s presence in Oregon’s Pinot Noir wine country. 

Sometimes love strikes at first sight. Other times it emerges more gradually over months or even years. When I first drove the new Buick Regal nearly a year ago, I found a fair amount to like, but love didn’t instantly happen. The Regal just isn’t that kind of car. Its strengths are subtle. Perhaps if we spent a week together, and a turbo was added to the mix?

Ours being an open relationship, I also played the field, driving an Acura TSX V6, Chrysler 200 Limited, and Volvo S60 T5 to better evaluate how the Buick measured up. Those reviews will follow. First, the Regal CXL Turbo.

The Regal isn’t as flashy a dresser as the half-size-larger Buick LaCrosse, but it will likely wear better over time. Over the course of the week the car looked better and better to me. The proportions are outstanding for a front-driver, with the ends of the car pulled tight to minimize their perceived mass. In a clear sign of Lutz’s involvement, the fenders swell out deliciously to barely contain the optional 19-inch wheels. Inspired by the 1998-2004 Audi A6, but further refined. Current Audis, with more kinks in their curves, appear stodgy in comparison. I took many photos in an attempt to do the Regal justice, but failed. Its complex surfacing simply cannot be captured in two dimensions. One exterior flaw that can be remedied easily: there’s far too much badging on the trunk. Does any owner really want to broadcast that their car can burn E85?

The Regal’s interior similarly grew more attractive over the course of the week. Though less overtly styled than the interiors in the Acura and Volvo, there’s beauty in the details. Look closely and, like its exterior, the Buick’s interior is filled with curves. These flow together so harmoniously and are so tastefully highlighted with piano black and lustrous metallic trim that no element draws attention to itself. (Okay, the chrome trim plate surrounding the shifter does, but without a few pieces of jewelry the interior would be too dark.) At night, ice blue lighting proves both attractive and easy on the eyes.

When I first drove the Regal I reported that its interior materials didn’t quite measure up to those in an Audi or Acura. Perhaps I was thinking of past Audis and Acuras. The interiors of the current A4 and TSX—and of the new Volvo S60, for that matter—seem plasticky compared to that in the Regal. Within the Buick most surfaces are soft to the touch and even those that aren’t have a reassuringly solid feel. The door pulls—historically a GM weakness—deserve special note. Tug on them and they don’t budge a bit. Yet they also have a soft-touch inner surface. Regal production is shifting from Germany to Canada. Hopefully these materials survived the move.

Ergonomics are much better than in the LaCrosse, with the shifter properly located and the many knobs and buttons all within reach. But there are so many knobs and buttons, unconventionally arranged (for North America, at least), that even basic operations require considerable hunting at first. By the end of the week I’d figured out how to perform most functions. Perhaps after a year the location of audio controls on the steering wheel, the center stack, AND the center console would start to become intuitive? Even the tach is a bit of a bother; since like that in some VWs it’s numbered in hundreds rather than thousands, making it easy to confuse at a glance with the speedometer. As is often the case, the gear indicator is mounted low in the instruments, where it’s not possible to read at a glance. (I was spoiled the previous week by the head-up display in a GMC Acadia.) Thankfully the driving position requires no such acclimation. Compared to the styling-uber-alles LaCrosse, the Regal has a lower, shallower instrument panel and thinner, more upright pillars.

Then there are the seats. Because the headrests jut far forward, it took me a few days to find a position that wasn’t downright uncomfortable (for me; your neck might be less vertical). Supposedly this torture is required for safety, but both Acura and Volvo earn equally good rear crash protection scores with much less intrusive headrests. The problem: GM isn’t willing to fit its cars with active head restraints that move forward in the event of a rear impact. Even excluding this factor, the Regal’s seatbacks lack contour and their bolsters are too widely spaced. They have four-way power lumbar, vs. the two-way manual lumbar in the Acura and Volvo, but the seats in these competitors are nevertheless both more cosseting when cruising and more supportive when the road turns twisty. Of the Regal’s shortcomings, these seats would be the largest impediment to a satisfying long-term relationship. I might eventually learn to live with them, but it would be a struggle.

The Regal is, in the GM fashion, a few inches longer than its closest competitors, and this pays some dividends in rear seat legroom. Even so, the rear seat isn’t a comfortable place for adults. Knee room, though relatively plentiful, is still limited and the cushion is too low to the floor—the price of the arching roofline. Adding insult to injury, rear seat passengers don’t get lustrous metallic trim on their door pulls—to save a few dollars? But they do get rear air vents and an AC outlet (which will only work with a three-prong plug.) The trunk is a little larger than most, and the rear seatbacks fold to expand it.

I first drove the Regal with a 182-horsepower 2.4-liter four-cylinder engine, and found this engine adequate. Over the course of a week with the optional 220-horsepower turbocharged 2.0-liter four I found it…also adequate, only more so. Tipping a friendly scale at 3,671 pounds, the Regal Turbo weighs hundreds of pounds more than most competitors. Consequently, the turbocharged engine merely achieves parity with the base engines in the Acura TSX, Audi A4, and Volvo S60. (And the much less expensive Hyundai Sonata and Kia Optima, for that matter.)

Why did GM opt to offer the 220-horsepower four as an option? Virtually everyone else offers base engines that are a little less powerful along with optional engines that are much more powerful. To more effectively compete with the latter the 2012 Regal will also be available with a 255-horsepower version of the 2.0-liter turbo. But this will still be 20-40 horsepower short of parity when the Regal needs a stronger engine to compensate for its additional poundage.

In terms of refinement, the Regal Turbo’s engine is better behaved than previous GM fours, but idles less smoothly and quietly than the best and makes pedestrian four-cylinder noises when revved. Casual drivers will notice little amiss—aside from a very faint occasional whistle the boosted nature of the engine isn’t evident—but there’s also nothing here to thrill. The soulful sixes offered in the Acura and Volvo are in entirely different league. These sixes also feel much stronger when starting off from a dead stop, where the normally lag-free Buick engine sometimes hesitates for a moment.

Fuel economy is rated 18 city / 28 highway by the EPA. Competitors usually do a few MPG better, especially in the city. An Audi A4 2.0T, which weighs about 270 pounds less: 22/ 30. Even in turbocharged six-cylinder all-wheel-drive form the Volvo S60 manages 18 / 26. The even heftier Cadillac CTS with the 3.6-liter V6: 18/ 27. So the fuel economy benefits of the four-cylinder turbo are not evident. In casual suburban driving I observed about 22.5 in the Regal.

The chassis is easier to admire, even if love still proves elusive. Going down the road the Regal feels unusually solid and well-mannered for a non-German car. Except it is a German car. Or was until it moved to Canada. The ride-handling balance is about the best you’ll find in a nose-heavy front-driver. The ultra-low-profile 245/40WR19 tires audibly clomp over road imperfections, but despite the absence of any sidewalls to speak of the ride remains smooth and steady on all but the worst roads. The Acura and Volvo aren’t as composed. There’s some lean in turns, but no more than in other sedans without hardcore performance ambitions.

Understeer? With nearly sixty-percent of the Regal’s many pounds on its front tires, of course it understeers. But the situation is more complicated than it initially appears. The Regal’s overly light steering has a relaxed feel to it, and when the wheel is first turned the car’s nose seems somewhat reluctant to follow. But override this feedback and tweak the wheel another twenty-or-so degrees, and the front tires mysteriously hook up and carve a tight line. Once you know this hidden capability is there, it’s easy to exploit. But it might never become intuitive. If and when the stability control intervenes it does so very effectively and relatively transparently. The systems in the Acura and especially in the Volvo are much more intrusive.

The Regal’s top option packages pair the 19-inch-wheels (a big aesthetic improvement) with adjustable shocks. Prominent “Sport” and “Tour” buttons respectively firm up or relax these shocks along with the steering and the throttle. At least they’re supposed to. Even after a week to familiarize myself with the car I could not tell the difference between the default setting and “Sport.” The latter might make the ride a little more abrupt, but handling is not perceptibly affected. Supposedly the system adapts to your driving style, so it might simply have defaulted to something near “Sport” for me. In “Tour” the steering felt a little more vague and the suspension felt a little less tied down, but the differences are again so small that I doubt I could reliably distinguish them in a blind test. So, are the trick shocks a waste? Not for anyone who cares about driving. They simply do such a good job left to themselves, that they should simply be left to themselves.

The steering is another matter. A much more significant difference between modes, as in Audi’s latest “Drive Select” packages, would be better than the current system. But an excellently tuned, single-mode system would be best of all.

The price: $35,185 with all the toys. Adjust for feature differences (like the trick shocks) using TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool and a similarly-equipped four-cylinder Acura TSX is a few hundred less. The two cars are very similarly priced. This puts the Regal about $5,000 over the much more powerful Hyundai Sonata Limited 2.0T (about $2,800 after the feature adjustment) but about $7,000 under an Audi A4 2.0T.

Buick would of course prefer that you focus on the latter comparison, and they’d have justification for this. As suggested by its highly refined styling and hefty curb weight, the Regal was designed and engineered well beyond normal $25,000 car standards—which might explain why it starts at $27,000 and ends up at $35,000 when fully loaded. Want the basic car and the performance bits, but need a lower price? Cutting the nav would save $2,000 and cutting the sunroof would shave another grand.

Ultimately, even when turbocharged and fitted with the industry’s quickest-reacting shocks the Buick Regal simply isn’t a driver’s car. Instead, it’s a solid, exceedingly well-behaved machine that, if it proves reliable, I’d readily recommend to casual drivers without overly vertical necks. Driving it for a week, I came to admire the Regal’s subtle strengths. Perhaps given a year or two of commutes this admiration might turn to love. Prefer to fall in love more quickly? Perhaps the upcoming Regal GS with its more aggressively boosted engine will do the trick.

Press Car, insurance and one tank of gas provided by GM.

Michael Karesh operates TrueDelta, an online source of automotive pricing and reliability data.

Even more than the Cadillac SRX reviewed last week, the 2010 Buick LaCrosse reflects Bob Lutz’s influence at GM. Soon after assuming responsibility for the corporation’s new product development in 2001, Lutz deemed the styling of the original Buick LaCrosse, recently approved for production, unfit for sale. The car was sent back to the designers for late revisions to the front end, delaying its launch by over a year. But not much could be done so late in the process. What would the LaCrosse be like if Lutz could oversee its entire development? With redesigned and re-engineered 2010 Buick LaCrosse we now have an answer.

I previously reviewed the Buick LaCrosse in CXL AWD form. This time around I spent a week with a LaCrosse CXS that differed from the earlier car in two notable ways: a more powerful 3.6-liter V6 (instead of a 3.0) and GM’s new “HiPer Strut” front suspension (a midyear change).

Lutz’s most notable act at GM was to return a high degree of autonomy to the designers, freeing them from the constraints imposed by engineering and manufacturing, the short-sighted meddling of marketing, and the time and budget restraints of product line executives. So the new Buick LaCrosse should look great, and for the most part it does. The designers did very well with the tall, cab forward body structure they were given—even with Lutz they clearly didn’t have an entirely clean sheet of paper to work from. While the front fender line would ideally be a little lower, as executed the curvaceous exterior has presence, catches your eye, and is clearly a Buick from stem to stern. This ain’t no rebadge. The LaCrosse looks special.

The artful curves continue inside the car. The door-mounted armrests and the smooth transition from the door panels to the instrument panel are especially nicely done. Real stitching molded into these panels, sufficiently convincing faux wood, and extensive ambient lighting contribute to an upscale ambiance. Lutz’s push for richer materials has had mixed results. Unlike in some recent Cadillacs, even the lower door panels are padded. But the center console and the switchgear still don’t look or feel quite as nice as those in the Audis Lutz upheld as benchmarks or the Lexus Buick hopes to steal buyers from. It might have Acura beat, though.

Unfortunately, giving designers so much power also has downsides. The thick chrome band around the center stack sometimes reflects bright sunlight directly into the driver’s eyes. The prominent console and curves that look so good detract from perceived roominess—it remains to be seen whether GM can offer an Epsilon-based sedan that feels roomy. The fashionably high beltline and ultra-wide pillars (why?) severely constrict the driver’s sight lines, especially in turns. They also bury preteens in the basement-like back seat. The artful curve of the center stack into the center console looks sharp, but it positions the shifter too far rearward. Driving the LaCrosse with one’s hand on the shifter requires a rightward twist. Design might not have driven the number of buttons, but there are too many that look too much alike.

As in pretty much every GM car in recent memory, the front seats could be better. They provide a fair amount of lateral support, but only after considerable fiddling with the power adjustments, which include four-way lumbar, did I find a setting that was passably comfortable. Even then the ultra-firm head restraint juts too far forward. Other manufacturers manage to combine much less intrusive headrests with good safety scores. This isn’t a good place to opt for the lowest-cost solution. The rear seat, a bit low to the floor in the traditional GM manner, offers plenty of room for legs, but not so much for shoulders. The trunk would be narrow regardless, but fully encapsulating the conventional hinges further constricts it.

Disregard the mere ten-percent difference in the peak horsepower. The Buick LaCrosse CXS’s 280-horsepower 3.6-liter V6 spins the front wheels all too easily. It feels far stronger and sounds much better than the CXL’s 252-horsepower 3.0-liter V6. The difference in torque is more substantial, 259 vs. 217 pound-feet, and the LaCrosse’s two-ton curb weight is a poor match for the relatively torque-free 3.0. Yet for 2010 all-wheel-drive, which adds another 170 pounds, was only available with the 3.0. With the 2011 car this mistake will be rectified—the 3.0 will be exiled and only the 3.6 will be offered with all-wheel-drive. Better late than never, but how did the 3.0 ever make it out of the gate during Lutz’s watch? Did the car blow through its curb weight targets, and yet no one reconsidered the powertrain plan? Lutz has acknowledged that curb weight became a low priority during his quest to improve the cars, and that his successors must now work hard to take the pounds off. Even so, why not offer all-wheel-drive with the 3.6 from the start? EPA fuel economy ratings? Perhaps, but in general the 3.6 has earned equal or better EPA ratings than the 3.0.

Putting 259 pound-feet of torque through the front wheels is a recipe for torque steer. And, with the MacPherson strut front suspension fitted at intro, it was more than just hypothetical. The tested car was fitted with GM’s oddly named HiPer Strut front suspension, a midyear change. With this suspension design, the upper steering pivot moves from the strut mount to a ball joint located outboard of the strut. This yields a more vertical “kingpin” axis about which the wheel and tire revolve as the steering wheel is turned, a reduced offset between this axis and the tire’s contact patch, and a reduced scrub radius (the distance between where this axis hits the road and the tire’s contact patch). In theory, this should reduce torque steer, improve grip in turns, and improve steering precision but also increase steering effort at low speeds and reduce steering feel.

To study the real-world differences, I dropped by a dealer to test drive a LaCrosse CXS with the old suspension. Steering effort at low speeds isn’t notably affected—no doubt the level of assist has been tweaked to compensate. There’s not much steering feel with HiPer Strut, but there also isn’t much with the old suspension. In either case there’s a slight amount of slop, and you only learn of tire slip from your ears.. Torque steer is all but eliminated, though the nose does continue to feel like it wants to wander this way and that under hard acceleration. This is probably a matter of weight distribution and suspension tuning rather than suspension geometry. Even in CXS trim the LaCrosse’s suspension is relatively soft, so under hard acceleration the car squats and weight transfers off the nose. HiPer Strut does keep the tire’s contact patch more parallel to the road surface as it moves up and down over bumps and in turns. With it the car feels more planted and stable.

Alas, planted and stable are not the same as fun and sporty. I also dropped by dealers to compare the Nissan Maxima and Acura TL. Each has unfortunate exterior styling, and the Nissan’s interior looks and feels much cheaper than the others. But either car provides a much more engaging and entertaining driving experience, the Nissan’s abundant torque steer notwithstanding (the TL avoided the same via SH-AWD). Credit driving positions that provide a clearer view over the hood (sportily bumped up over the wheels in the Nissan’s case) and that seem to place the driver closer to the action. Also credit powertrains and steering systems that react much more quickly and sharply to driver inputs and tauter suspensions. In terms of cornering speeds the HiPer Strut Buick compares well, but the Nissan and Acura feel sportier and are simply much more fun to drive. Buick doesn’t do “visceral.” For mainstream drivers this could well be a plus. But not for driving enthusiasts.

The LaCrosse does gain back some points for ride quality, as it soaks up bumps much better than either the TL or the Maxima. Still there’s some tire clomping (but there’s more of both it and other noise in the other cars) and some fore-aft pitching (generally absent from the other cars, which react to the same bumps with a sharper but quicker and more vertical jolt). The impact of the pitching is magnified by two factors. The Buick’s head-up display is very helpful when manually shifting the six-speed automatic, as it displays not only the vehicle speed but also the engine speed and the current gear. (Bonus: song titles when they change.) But when the car pitches over bumps, the HUD dances up and down, and you’re tracking the bouncing ball. Worse, if you’re built like me then each time the car pitches over a frost heave that overly firm, overly far forward head restraint smacks you in the back of the head. On roads with lumpy surfaces this gets old quickly.

The LaCrosse with the MacPherson strut suspension was also fitted with the optional Touring Package, which includes more attractive, one-inch larger wheels (19s instead of 18s) and auto-adjusting shocks. Theoretically, these shocks should improve both handling and ride quality. Perhaps the lower profile treads were to blame, but while the Touring Package improves the appearance of the car it yields a busier, harsher ride and provides no evident handling benefit to compensate.

The conclusion with the new Buick LaCrosse is much the same as it was for the new Cadillac SRX. In both cases we have attractive styling, a richer interior ambiance, and improved refinement coupled to too many pounds, poor visibility, and an insufficiently visceral driving experience. Design has clearly benefited from Lutz’s influence, but by giving it more power relative to other groups, not by enabling and encouraging all functions to work better together towards the shared goal of an all-around better car. HiPer strut does improve the Buick LaCrosse’s handling, but doesn’t transform the character of the car. For the potential of this innovative suspension to be realized, it must be paired with quicker, sharper steering and a more agile chassis. Lutz has often been heralded as the ultimate car guy, but like the car guys from GM’s glory years seems to have focused more on how cars look than on what they’re like to sit in and drive. Now that GM has fixed the styling, perhaps they can provide more attention to the driving experience.

GM provided the press-fleet vehicle, insurance and one tank of gas for this review.

Michael Karesh owns and operates TrueDelta, an online source of vehicle pricing and reliability data.

With Pontiac and Saturn gone, Buick must assume a larger role within General Motors. It must now seek to win over enthusiasts who would have previously bought Pontiacs and the import-intenders who previously bought Saturns. The first product to follow from this expanded mission: the new 2011 Buick Regal. The Regal began life as the Opel Insignia—it will even be imported from Germany for the first year—and was to be marketed in the United States as the second-generation Saturn Aura. But it has been available in China as the Buick Regal for over a year now, so putting the tri-shield on the grille isn’t entirely an afterthought. This isn’t even the first time Opel has manufactured a car for Buick dealers—this tie goes way back. Even so, is the Regal a plausible Buick?

When I first saw the new Regal, in China, it really stood out. But the Chinese still get the rest of the world’s hand-me-downs. The circa 1985 MkII Volkswagen Jetta continues to be sold as a new car there, and decade-old designs are common. So recently designed cars tend to stand out. In the American context, the Regal blends. Yes, it’s handsome, but the same can be said for other clean, chunkily-proportioned, Audi-influenced sedans. The Suzuki Kizashi comes to mind. Thanks to a basically curvy shape, the Opel Insignia looks much more like a Buick than the similarly imported Opel Omega looked like a Cadillac, but this isn’t saying much. Within the Buick family, the Regal has been stuck with the role of Jan. Those seeking a distinctively styled car that is clearly a Buick will opt to date the family’s Marcia, the LaCrosse.

Inside the new Regal, the story is the same, with a more conventional, more straightforward design than you’ll find in the LaCrosse. Materials are better than the GM norm, and are certainly a step or two up from those in the Saturn Aura, but aren’t quite up to those in the Acuras and Audis GM hopes to steal buyers from. White stitching on the seats and upholstered door panel inserts and numerous chrome details provide welcome contrast within the “ebony” (i.e. black) interior—though the thick chrome shifter surround might be a bit much. Unlike in the LaCrosse, there is no stitching on the instrument panel or the upper door panels. The various elements of the IP cohere and flow together much better than they did in the Saturn Aura this car was to replace. Piano black trim runs along the base of the windshield to trace a continuous arc from door to door and also flows down into the center console from a band that runs mid-level across the instrument panel. For those who find the dark interior overly dark—and many potential buyers likely will, despite the contrasting bits—Buick offers a two-tone cocoa/cashmere interior with faux wood trim.

The Regal’s relatively conventional interior design pays functional dividends. Thanks to the car’s lower instrument panel and thinner (but still not thin) pillars, it’s much easier to see out of the Regal than the LaCrosse. The shifter is better positioned. And the various controls are easier to reach—though in the Regal as in the button-laden LaCrosse it’s often a challenge to find the one you’re looking for.

Oddly, while Cadillac no longer offers 4-way power lumbar adjustments in the CTS or SRX, Buick offers this feature in both the Regal and the LaCrosse. And yet the Regal’s moderately firm front seats aren’t especially comfortable, and only a German might find them luxurious. It doesn’t help that the headrests are very firm and jut too far forward in the interest of cheap whiplash protection. The bolsters provide a bit of lateral support, but in the GM fashion are too widely spaced for the average driver. Sure, the same could be said about the seats in a number of competing cars—it’s not easy finding great seats. But seats used to be a Buick focus.

Compared to the LaCrosse, the Regal rides on a four-inch-shorter wheelbase and, at just over 190 inches in length, is nearly seven inches shorter overall. These dimensional differences most impact rear seat room. While the LaCrosse offers 40.5 inches of rear legroom, the Regal provides 37.3, about average for a midsize car. Six-footers will fit, but the flat rear seat cushion is mounted far too low to provide thigh support—blame the fashionably arched roofline. One welcome premium feature: rear air vents.

Jan always was more practical than Marcia. So perhaps it should not come as a surprise that, with 14.2 cubic feet of cargo volume, Regal actually has a slightly larger trunk than the LaCrosse. In both cars GM opted for conventional gooseneck hinges, then fully encased the paths taken by these hinges to yield an especially narrow space. Why? Just to save a few dollars per car? Those who like big butts trunks will go elsewhere.

Partly to differentiate the Regal from the LaCrosse, Buick won’t offer the smaller sedan with a V6. The only engine currently available: a 182-horsepower direct-injected 2.4-liter. At 3,600 pounds, the new Regal could stand to lose a few (hundred), but the normally-aspirated four moves two tons (with driver and passenger) well enough in typical around town driving, and without making noises unbecoming a Buick. Most drivers won’t feel the need for more power.

For those who do, a 220-horsepower turbocharged 2.0-liter four will arrive in the fall. Initially, as with the 2.4, a manually-shiftable six-speed automatic that isn’t always the smoothest operator is the only transmission. A six-speed manual will be available “for order” with the turbo in late 2010—don’t expect dealers to stock any. The turbo gets a different steering system that adds variable assist and adaptive shocks with “sport” and “tour” settings will be optional. Farther into the future a Regal GS will combine a 255-horsepower turbo four with a six-speed manual and all-wheel-drive. What do you know, Buick is seriously pitching this car at enthusiasts.

To an even greater degree than the specs suggest, the Regal feels more compact and lighter than the LaCrosse. The steering is a little heavier, feels tighter and more precise, and provides more feedback. There’s more body roll than in the performance-oriented LaCrosse CXS, but also a smoother, more composed ride. Chassis tuning is a Regal strongpoint—something not typically expected from Buick. When it’s taken up a notch with the turbo and manual transmission, the Regal should prove a very fun car to drive.

For the first year, because it will be imported from high-cost Germany, the Regal will only be offered in mid-level CXL trim. The starting price of $26,995 jumps to $28,840 when you add the tested car’s sunroof and Convenience Package (power passenger seat, rear obstacle detection, AC outlet). A V6-powered LaCrosse CXL is about $2,500 more, according to TrueDelta.com’s car price comparison. A similarly-equipped four-cylinder Honda Accord? About $500 less sticker-to-sticker, and about $1,800 less invoice-to-invoice—Buick dealers have much less margin to play with. Adjusting for the Regal’s higher content cuts the difference by about $600.

Buick would rather you compare the Regal to the Acura TSX. Do this and you’ll find that the Buick is about $1,300 less sticker-to-sticker, but only about $600 less invoice-to-invoice. The Buick has about $200 in additional content. So it appears that the Regal isn’t badly priced, but also isn’t likely to sell based on price. 

The Regal CXL Turbo will start at $29,495, but aside from the turbo this price will also include the $845 Convenience Package. So the turbo adds a very reasonable $1,655, and will undercut a similarly equipped Volkswagen CC, the closest European competitor, by about $4,000.

Overall, the new Regal looks and feels more like an Audi (with VW materials) than a Buick, while being priced midway between Honda and Acura. It’s a solid car with large number of standard features and a very good ride-handling compromise. But does it have what it takes to bring people who never saw themselves driving a Buick into Buick showrooms? As much as a German car at Japanese prices has a certain appeal, it’s perhaps too subtle. This formula certainly didn’t work with the Saturn Astra. More of the LaCrosse’s style or of the luxury for which Buick has traditionally been known would help. Or perhaps adding boost will do the trick, at least for those who enjoy driving? We’ll find out later this year.

Michael Karesh owns and operates TrueDelta, an online source of automotive reliability and pricing data

“The company’s survival depends on the success of this car.” Though regularly trotted out, this statement is almost always BS (not to be confused with the Bertel kind). Typically when the hyped new car fails, the company seems to somehow scrape by. But the 2010 LaCrosse might just warrant such an extreme statement, at least with regard to Buick’s survival outside China. GM has been on a brand-killing spree lately, and this car will test whether or not Buick is beyond saving in the U.S. The Enclave has proved that American car buyers are open to a Buick crossover. But a Buick sedan, with more baggage to overcome, poses a greater challenge. So, does the new Buick LaCrosse–and the brand that’s banking on it–deserve to succeed?

My initial impressions of the new LaCrosse’s exterior styling, during NAIAS press days last January, were mixed. The traditional Buick “sweep spear” seemed forced on the ultramodern, cab forward proportions. Ideally the line on the front fender would be an inch or so lower, which would require that the fender itself be lower. Out in the real world, the new LaCrosse stands out–in a good way–with a premium and somewhat futuristic appearance. The proportions and dimensions are similar to those of the new TL, but the Buick is far more attractive than Acura’s brick. Is that faint praise? Try this: one will mistake it for a Chevrolet. Because of its large wheels and stocky build, the LaCrosse appears smaller than it actually is–which is nearly full-size. In today’s climate this probably helps, more than it hurts.

The LaCrosse’s interior is GM’s best yet, dominated by flowing curves that encapsulate the driver and front passenger. Beyond the original and attractive design, I was especially impressed by the way real stitching was incorporated into the molded instrument panel, for the appearance of an upholstered IP at a much lower cost.

But there’s the rub: Buick’s interior ambition is lofty, but the bean-counter’s hand is still all over the execution. In sunlight, the materials aren’t as convincing and various small details (such as the sliding cover of the console’s storage compartment) seem less finished than they should be. I drove an HS 250 earlier the same day, and the LaCrosse’s interior materials simply can’t match one of the cheapest sedans Lexus makes. Still, it is a step up from the Malibu, and better than that of any Ford or Chrysler. GM is very close to getting this bit right.

The front seats are comfortable, and even provide a modicum of lateral support. The rear seat, a bit low to the floor in the traditional GM manner, and offers plenty of room for legs, but not so much for shoulders. It still remains to be seen whether GM can offer an Epsilon-based car that feels roomy. The specs are almost competitive, but subjectively the cabin fails to feel expansive. Credit the high beltline, prominent console, and organic curves that are otherwise so appealing. The trunk would have been narrow anyway, but the decision to fully encapsulated the door hinges further constricts the space.

Extraordinarily broad A-pillars (why?) and a high cowl dominate the view forward from the driver’s seat. Visibility in turns ranks among the worst I’ve experienced in a sedan. I found myself leaning forward to check that nothing was in the resulting front quarter blind spot. The transmission can be manually shifted, but the shifter needs to be repositioned farther from the driver for optimal comfort. The view rearward between the also thick rear pillars and over the high trunk…good thing there’s a rearview camera.

I spent most of my time in the LaCrosse CXL AWD. In case anyone has been wondering how well a 3.0-liter V6 engine, even one with 252 horsepower, can motivate 4,200 pounds of sedan…not so well. Especially at low speeds, acceleration verges on sluggish. Even in typical driving, with shifts occurring between 2,500 and 3,000 rpm, the engine sounds like it’s working more than a luxury car engine ought to. Things could be worse: the engine could sound as rough as it does overworked.

I briefly drove the top-of-the-line LaCrosse CXS, and that car’s 280-horsepower 3.6-liter V6 feels much more energetic and sounds considerably less strained. On the other hand, the 3.6 too easily provokes both wheelspin and torque steer. Why isn’t all-wheel-drive available with the 3.6? Working with the same basic transmission, Ford now offers a twin-turbo 3.5-liter with AWD.

GM probably specified a 3.0-liter as the LaCrosse’s principal engine for fuel economy reasons. Or perhaps they figured that a 3.0-liter with the same peak horsepower as their previous generation 3.6 would provide the same driving experience as that 3.6. Either way, the 3.0-liter engine fails. In normal driving, it feels like a 3.0, not a 3.6. The 252 horses dwell at 6,900 rpm, where few Buick drivers will dare to tread. Peak torque, more constrained by displacement, is only 215 pound-feet. But there’s always fuel economy, right? Wrong. The EPA ratings of 16 city and 25 highway are no better than those of more powerful competitors. Even the Lincoln MKS, with a 355-horsepower turbo six and even more poundage, does a bit better. So what’s the point of the 3.0, when it’s both less powerful and less efficient?

The new LaCrosse being a Buick, sloppy handling might be expected. In truth, the CXL AWD feels composed and stable, with well-controlled body motions, an acceptable amount of lean in turns, and a minimal amount of understeer. The all-wheel-drive system includes the active rear differential pioneered by the Saab 9-3 Turbo X. This differential counteracts understeer by routing torque to the outside wheel in turns. Throttle-induced oversteer is theoretically possible, but this would require more twist than the V6 can deliver (or possibly an unpaved road surface.) Even with the trick differential and nicely-weighted steering, the LaCrosse doesn’t feel agile, but then nothing in this class does.

The ride isn’t quite as creamy as that of a Lexus, with some clomping over bumps but no untoward jitters. Aside from the engine under acceleration, noise levels are very low. In fact, even when the engine isn’t particularly loud, the absence of other noise makes it sound louder than it is. This solid feel and quietness partly justify why the new LaCrosse weighs so much. Stress the partly. A Lexus ES is also quiet inside, and weighs nearly a quarter-ton less than the front-wheel-drive LaCrosse. Even the bloated Acura TL weighs a couple hundred pounds less. Check the specs of any new GM product, and you’ll find that the company has a serious mass control problem. Too little room in the budget for ultra-high-strength steel?

So, what’s the verdict? The new Buick LaCrosse turns heads and is a viable alternative to the similarly sized Acura TL and Lexus ES, for less money. If Buick weren’t struggling with a load of baggage, this car would succeed. As it is, anyone looking for an excuse not to buy a Buick can still find one in the sluggish 3.0-liter, the EPA figures, or the driving position. The LaCrosse may be a step in the right direction, but Buick is still on a thousand-mile journey.

The last weakness isn’t fixable without a major redesign. But giving the 3.0 the heave-ho would make the largest difference, and it’s something GM could do, and should do, right away. Forget the 182-horspower four-cylinder that’s on the way–do they want to kill another brand? The 3.6 should be the base engine. For the up-level engine, offer a turbo 3.6 with all-wheel-drive. This shouldn’t pose too much of a challenge. GM was rumored to have a turbo 3.6 in development nearly a decade ago, and Ford has proven that the transmission can handle the resulting torque. More than anything else, Buick needs a sedan people feel compelled to consider. A LaCrosse with enough horsepower to fully exploit the fine chassis–a SHO-matching 365 for example–would be compelling.

Michael Karesh operates TrueDelta.com, a provider of car reliability and real-world gas mileage information

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 LaCrosse Super is not cool in the traditional sense– as in sex-on-wheels or race-car-for-the-road. It's got that James Dean/Steve McQueen thing happening: effortless, been there done that, I don't need to show you shit (but I can and will). Alternatively, you could say the Super Buick has a large dose of that ineffable "WTF did you buy THAT for?" appeal.

There is no flash. The Super's sheet metal offers clean, feline haunches, graceful proportions, a porthole or eight and some dual stainless steel exhausts– with chrome tips! Everything is round and fluid to a rental car lot fault. There is so little drama in the design that nothing grabs your attention. It flies completely under the radar; no bad thing for lead foots.   

Some say the Buick LaCrosse is ugly and cross-eyed. I'm not going to argue. Why spoil the hushed vibe inside the Super's cabin? Buick has touted its QuietTuning technology– but not loudly enough. Baffles, foam filler, sandwich windows and exhaust note-sculpting create a tomb-like still. Insert octogenarian Buick drivers remark here. And it's true: noise reduction isn't exactly a sexy selling point. It's got to be like tenth on most shopper's list (right after change holder). But the aural placidity certainly creates an impression of quality.

Unfortunately, first impressions don't last. This is a Potemkin cabin; the Super only looks sumptuous. The burled wood is buried under more plastic than a fetishist at a PVC party. Gary Wright fans will rejoice in the abundant DreamWeave leather, but the good stuff went to Lexus. As with most GM products of the past quarter century, the plastics are harsh and brittle. (Yes, it's important.)

On the positive side, the Concert Sound III nine-speaker audio system will have you believing Sean Hannity is in the back seat (making out with…?) And there's a lovely set of buttons across the center of the dash that are as easy to manipulate as BMW's iDrive (after you take the 10-week course).  But push those buttons and the whole housing moves ever so slightly. It squeaks ‘weak.'

Not so the Super's 5.3-liter 300hp (323 ft.-lbs. of torque) V8 engine. As a good little TTAC reviewer, I jumped on this rolling couch's throttle, making the tires squeal like a guest on Hardball. And yet, no torque steer. The LaCrosse Super goes like Hell– zero to sixty in a reported 5.7 seconds– directly forward. No steering wheel squirm to rattle the ice in your Manhattan.

I know, I know: every single review of this car bemoans the LaCrosse Super's massive torque steer. But, like so many GM products, The General's lieutenants have sorted this shit out– after the press pool party was over. It's a shame…

In the corners, the LaCrosse Super is plenty fast and not much fun. A large front wheel-drive car is always going to be less of a hoot than a rear wheel-drive sedan. And yes, discerning drivers will certainly feel the difference in the curves. But the big Buick's biggest bugaboo has been beaten. Floor it, tighten your biceps and nothing. Buick achieves this without any obvious tricks (i.e. fatter tires on the front). The unobvious ones: closer-fitting gear teeth on the steering rack, tighter bushings, a stiffer torsion rod controlling the variable-effort power assist, and a tweaked Stabilitrak system.

Buick's magnetic steering is not what I would call track worthy, or feelsome, or engaging, or reassuring, or fun. It works well in enough. For parking or emergency lane changes, the amount of effort you don't need is astounding. If this is a deal breaker, buy a Subaru WRX STI. Same price, same power. (Cough. Different driven wheels, different weight.) While you're working up a sweat, the guy in the LaCrosse will give you a half smile. 

Clearly, Buick's fastest-ever car (150mph top end) makes no sense. How many of the GM faithful want a vehicle that costs $3470 less than a Cadillac CTS V6; a prestige product that offers the same horsepower, a six-speed tranny, slightly better mileage, no need for premium fuel and fewer tumbleweeds blowing through the dealership? Or how about a cheaper, rear wheel-drive Pontiac G8? Or anything else, really. Not to mention the fact that the LaCrosse is a lame duck, slated for 2010 replacement. I mean, how many ways can you say depreciation?

The Super is super though: a stealth near-wealth machine that makes a coherent case for itself. Providing you're sick or senile. Or, preferably, both.

For once GM has created two (but not quite three) entirely different looks off a common platform. While the GMC Acadia and Saturn Outlook are Suburban square, the Buick Enclave is all curves. Bends often render a design feminine, but the Enclave’s massive streamlined prow and flared fenders add enough aggression to extend its appeal to both genders– provided it’s fitted with the CXL’s optional seven-spoke 19” wheels. GM has shod the base-trim CX with 18’s, whose size and styling complement the Enclave’s boldly arched fenders about as well as Keds complete an Armani. 

The Enclave’s interior also employs organic curves in place of its siblings' angles. Scads of wood and chrome suggest elegance, even opulence. Unfortunately, it is just a suggestion; the materials deployed are so obviously fake that they make a mockery of the Enclave’s luxurious aspirations. Although the quality is about the same as in the Acadia and Outlook (i.e. good), the Buick’s fancy interior styling promises a much more luxurious vehicle. In this case, “good” is not nearly good enough.

The Enclave's class-exceeding exterior dimensions translate into an unusually commodious interior; all those curves do not reduce interior space by a significant amount. The driving position is very good for those of at least average height. The windshield isn't raked too far back, and you don't sit so high above the IP that you feel like you're driving a minivan.

The Enclave’s front seats aren’t especially supportive or comfortable. GM offers better ones in its large SUVs. As in past GM people-haulers, the second row seats are positioned too low to provide anything resembling thigh support. Their main claim to fame: they collapse to provide an extremely wide walk-through to the third row.

The third row, while also low to the floor (aren’t they all?), is actually more comfortable than the second row. Small side bolsters that extend when the seat is deployed effectively avoid the "park bench" feel of most third-row seats. How odd that the Enclave’s best lateral support can be found in the third row.

A top priority for GM: providing class-leading cargo room behind the third row. In this, they succeeded. The cargo volume is substantially greater than that of any competitor. Both the second and third rows fold flat without removing any headrests to further extend the cargo area.

The Enclave only became feasible for GM this year; the 275-horsepower 3.6-liter DOHC V6 requires stump-pulling gear ratios to adequately accelerate 4,800 pounds of crossover (a full five large with AWD). Last year, every automatic transaxle in GM’s cupboard possessed only four ratios, the first of which would have been hopelessly tall. This year’s new six-speed, while occasionally indecisive and generally slow to react, at least provides suitable ratios.

In short, the Enclave is not slow. Some will argue that “not slow” is not quick enough. But does Mercedes’ R63 AMG make any sense whatsoever? In general, people-haulers need to haul people, not light-up tires.

The Enclave’s handling feels confident and intuitive in high-speed sweepers. Body motions are well-controlled, understeer and body lean are moderate, and transitions are fluid. Tackle some tighter twisties and the picture changes. The Enclave suddenly feels cumbersome and out of its element. The CX’s SUV-spec tires are a mixed bag: they scream early, but not loudly. Enclave drivers are well advised to keep their speed down in the bendy bits.

Better yet, hit the Interstate, where the Enclave shines. Ride quality isn’t quite luxury sedan smooth, but it’s closer than you’ll find in most tall vehicles, with little bobbing about or minor impact harshness. Best of all, even at 80mph the Enclave’s interior remains hushed. The Acadia and Outlook are hardly noisy inside, but the Enclave sets a new standard for quietness. Your eyes may attest that the Enclave is no American Lexus, but your ears will want to argue the point.

So much of the Buick Enclave is so right— the sensuous exterior, the roomy versatile interior, the smooth silent ride— it’s a shame the interior lacks genuine class. Similarly equipped, the Enclave sells for nearly the same price as the GMC Acadia, with which it shares showrooms. If GM had put another grand into the Enclave’s interior, they could have kicked-up the MSRP and brought some major glory to the Buick brand.

Anyway, calling a vehicle of the Enclave’s epic dimensions a crossover forces us to expand the genre’s definition from “cute ute” to “the bastard child of a minivan and a full-sized SUV.” That said, Buick's CUV on steroids is a surprisingly graceful design. Well-judged chrome accents abound, from the door trim to the blinged-out wheels. The premium paint job is worth the extra cash; a pearl-coated Enclave’s spizzarkle will make Cadillac owners scowl into their prune juice.

The purpose of these porky proportions lies within. Much like Danielewski’s house of blue, the Enclave is bigger on the inside than on the outside. Sliding second row seats can provide as much or as little rear space as needed, depending on the degree of family bonding desired. Optional middle-row bench seats up the capacity to eight, for maximum character building. And accoutrements abound, giving backseat drivers their choices of entertainment and environmental controls.

Though I applaud GM’s brave decision to hire the blind to color-match the Enclave’s interior, the model’s beige leather, floor and ceiling clash with the ashy brown door trim; which is irritatingly beset with medium-shaded wood accents. The plastics are alternately hard and soft– softer where contact is inevitable and harder where only masochists dare to tread (especially after initial, revulsion-inducing contact).

Brushed metal trim on the door handles add (ADD?) to the boggle factor. The dash provides a similar lack of coherence; chrome strips and an analog clock top off the WTF factor. Wood also makes a guest appearance on the steering wheel, playing the role of the suave but untrustworthy stranger. Note to Buick: wood or metal, pick a side.

The number of dashboard controls never reaches the sheer distraction level of an MDX, but it’s not for lack of trying. After a brief tussle with the Enclave’s electronic seating controls, during which the memory function attempted to crush my kneecaps, we were on the road.

After driving a selection of super-sized SUVs, I squared off for battle with yon steering wheel, only to find it surprisingly light and responsive. The closet enthusiast may be disgusted by the lack of road feel and steering feedback, but then, they’re not likely to purchase something of these epic proportions. The average luxobarge driver will appreciate the Enclave's easy, quick steering and wonderfully cushy suspension.

In fact, you can easily forget you’re piloting a 2.5 ton vehicle– until you attempt brisk acceleration. With its V6 kicking-out 275hp and 251 ft.-lbs. of torque, the Enclave literally lags behind its natural rivals. Zero to sixty takes 8.4 seconds; the Acura MDX gets the job done in 7.2 and the Mazda CX-9 arrives in 7.5.

The Enclave’s six-speed automatic transmission is a step ahead of standard GM fare, but the gearbox serves-up early upshifts and late downshifts, with a heavy side of throttle lag. You can take matters into your own hands with shift lever-mounted buttons, but chances are you won’t.

The Enclave comes complete with airbags for all and the usual alphabet stew of safety equipment: ABS, TPMS, ESC and Anti-Rollover Logic (if your common sense fails). Nav-equipped vehicles offer a rear view camera, a handy option in a car with this much bounteous booty.

The $33k-ish (and up) front wheel-drive Enclave offers a considerable amount of value for driver who can appreciate the subtle luxuries within. Actually, “near luxury” pretty much nails it. For significantly less money than its foreign luxury competitors, you can buy a Buick Enclave and pretend you’re driving a mid- to large-sized luxury SUV– without the handling, performance or reputation. 

Alternatively, for a few thousand dollars less, you can buy either one of the Enclave’s non-identical twins: the Saturn Outlook or GMC Acadia. Or wait for the Chevy version. Or just wonder why GM builds better Buicks in China, and then sells four versions of the same CUV in America, reserving the best looking one for their doomed division, without giving it a proper V8 to distinguish it from its automotive homonyms.

Appearances deceive; for Buick has mad coach building skills.  The LaCrosse blends feminine curves and masculine edges with continental flair.  Buick's ovoid adaptation works at every angle that the last Ford Taurus failed: gentle creases accentuate the toned quarter panels, while the rakish c-pillar puts the Ghost of LeSabres Past to rest. Witness the minimalist approach to body cutlines, a lost art in these days of excessive plastic ornamentation.  (Never mind the dorky fender-mount GM badge: five minutes with a hairdryer and they’re a memory.) The LaCrosse' true visual appeal lies in its perfect proportions: badges, lights, trim, glass and sheetmetal all know their place, harmonizing like a barbershop quartet on ecstasy.  

Fine proportioning continues within, as economy of line ensures that the LaCrosse’s interior elements complement each other perfectly.  Unfortunately, the cabin makes no bones about Buick’s state of the union: this economy is deep in recession.  It’s littered with portal trimmings befitting a Chevrolet. Comically placed wood accents are about as convincing as Buick's tagline, and attract jewelry abrasions like a magnet.  The Buick’s standard six-speaker audio system delivers mega bass and crystalline treble for front seaters, and nothing sonically stunning for backseat bombers.  The tiller's stiff leather wrapping begs Calgon to take it away, away, away.

All is not lost.  Peep the wood and chrome accents surrounding the LaCrosse’s headlight controls: the vinyl, chrome and woodgrain dash proclaims “tres chic” (even if the slick console sits on a house of cards foundation).  Seating is standard Buick decadence, with the handy addition of fold-flat, pass-through, split-decision rear seats.  Pop the finely chiseled decklid and there’s room for both golf bag and golfer.  Once properly stowed, the lid's double-linked hinges and zero-leverage grab handle ensures a clean palm print on dirty sheetmetal will finish the job.

While the trunk fails high school physics, torque multiplication is the favorite subject of ye olde 3.8L V6.  The 90-degree six-pot provides pure pushrod satisfaction. The powerplant’s 230lb-ft of torque assures gratuitous grunt from the git-go, while 200 horses whip the LaCrosse CXL to redline at a moment’s notice.  Yes, but– with only four speeds in play, the LaCrosse needs all the Grand National heritage it can muster.  The mill’s trashy tenor at high revs quickly kills Buick's luxo-muscle image.  Although the CSX' 3.6-liter VVT DOHC engine stables an 40 extra horses, it's still not enough to lift the Lacrosse’s acceleration above more-than-merely-adequate.

Put the moves on the LaCrosse CXL and it’s clear this Prom Queen won't tango.  The car’s steering system walks the line between responsive and relaxing, but moderate understeer and nautical body roll are a total buzz kill.  When it’s time for the "fun" to stop, monumental nosedive threatens to trip the airbag sensors.  The cushy dampers and mundane Goodyear donuts make it clear the LaCrosse CXL is aimed at elderly drivers who prefer a quiet library to a discotheque (that’s a club to you and me).  Which brings us straight to “Quiet Tuning.”   

The Buick on the QT delivers a smooth ride and a hushed ambiance (marred only by the pissed-off 3.8L's presence at part throttle). It's quiet fo-sho, but that’s not what you call “sizzle” in the highly-competitive, mid-size sedan market.  In fact, cruising down the freeway in the CXL, two words seemed to distill the experience: rental car.  It’s easy on the eyes, sports a proven powertrain and possesses the kind of dynamically challenged demeanor that takes the trouble right out of a "troublemaker.” 

As Bob Elton reported, Buick dealers are currently shifting a handful of new cars per month.  “Value Pricing” or not, there’s no question that superfluous LaCrosse inventory will finds its home in the rental car market.  Meanwhile, Hyundai is busy selling conservatively styled, value-added sedans aimed squarely at Buick's niche.  A country that's been a democracy all of 19 years makes rides that hand David Dunbar Buick's legacy its collective ass.  Sorry, but today's market needs more than a pretty face and reasonable reliability.  The LaCrosse is a solid, good-looking dog– that won't hunt.

Of course, Lucerne is a beautiful town, and the Lucerne CXS is a beautiful car.  Truth be told, the comely Lucerne is a pastiche of the Audi group’s best sedans– a bit of Audi A8 here (rear three quarter) and a bit of Phaeton there (pillars, rear)– with a healthy dose of Buick’s polarizing Velite concept roadster (front).  Fortunately, it works.  There’s no question the Lucerne is its own machine; the Buick’s portholes are as authoritative a brand statement as Mister T's mohawk.  

It’s all very dignified and elegant in a vaguely European way– until you open the door. Then you discover that the Lucerne is cursed with GM's latest interior initiative: strategically placed quality.  For example, the Lucerne’s dash is fashioned from a polymer that’s less forgiving than a Taliban elder.  And yet, only millimeters away, you encounter GM's finest door panels to date.  They’re superb examples of industrial art: a Lexus-like mix of triple-stitched vinyl, padded plastic and convincing wood grain.  But aside from the swank door trimmings, richly textured headliner and hip cobalt blue gauge faces, the Lucerne's interior is the Buick brand’s Bay of Pigs.

The optional Harman-Kardon boombox is the cabin’s saving grace.  Play that funky music [white boy] and you unleash both top-notch imaging and skin-tight bass response.  The noise is most welcome; the Roadmaster-esque seating rivals memory foam mattresses for sybaritic somnambulism.  Mobsters looking for a place to stash rivals heading for the big sleep take note: the Lucerne’s trunk is a thing of beauty. It’s large and accommodating, replete with plastic modesty panels hiding the decklid's dogleg hinges.

Fire up the Lucerne CXS’ Northstar 4.6-liter V8 and the mixed messages continue.  Dial-up a few revs and the hunky Lucerne rumbles like an old muscle-bound big-block Buick GSX.  (Buick’s “Quiet Tuning” obviously doesn’t apply to Cadillac-sourced powertrains.)  Drop the hammer and the de-clawed 275hp Northstar helps the Lucerne slide to sixty in a tick under seven seconds.  Yes, but how many front-wheel drive V8-powered luxury cars can you name?   And how many have you bought?  There’s a reason for that… 

At sensible speeds, the Lucerne hides its wrong-wheel drive roots commendably.  Eight mild-mannered cylinders render torque steer a minor issue.  But awaken the beast at the wrong time and the Lucerne counters with smoking rubber and a completely wayward helm.  Fortunately, the iron filings floating in the Lucerne’s shocks deliver a reasonable imitation of dynamic fluidity; Magnetic Ride Control suspension keeps the two-ton luxobarge flat during cornering. Yes, really.  

But to what end?  The big Buick fails to impress one's "land yacht" Ying or "grand touring" Yang.  For Type-A personalities, the Northstar's "take-a-number" throttle response, uncommunicative and overboosted steering and lazy four-cog slushbox infuriates.  Even with Magna-charged dampers in full suppress mode, mundane Continental rubber, cushy springs and planar seats deny sporting satisfaction.  Grab a lower gear for upcoming corners and the flimsy floor-shift quivers in anticipation.

For the Type-B folks, the Lucerne rides comfortably enough on most surfaces, but nails surface imperfections like an economy car chassis, lacking the brick-house swagger of Mercury’s mighty-mighty Marquis.  No matter what your tastes, the Lucerne's coarse underpinnings prove GM half baked this auto-culinary treat.

The Lucerne certainly outclasses its clueless Park Avenue predecessor, but what does this sub-$40k whip do that a fresher-looking Camry can’t?  De-ice its windscreen with heated washer fluid?  Seriously, when a carmaker promotes its flagship model with a relatively minor gadget, you know it’s a “pay no attention to the car behind that curtain” affair.  The fact that the portly Lucerne’s standard mill is a positively ancient pushrod V6 shows that even GM knows they’ve over-priced and under-delivered.  While entry-level Lucernes face the prospect of rental car Hell, the CSX goes nowhere fast. 

More than that, the Lucerne’s lack of soul proves that Buick is a dead marque dying.  One could argue that Electra Waggoner Biggs’ sculpture and the car named after her were tacky– nothing more than American populism with a continental twist.  But their unabashed spirit demanded your attention.  If the Lucerne is as good as a Buick gets, it’s only a matter of time before the entire brand follows its Swiss namesake into historical irrelevance.