There’s a “problem” with the modern performance variant: they are too easy to review. You see, dropping a high-horsepower V8 into anything makes it good. Take the last generation Chrysler 300 SRT8. It’s interior was made from plastics rejected by Lego and Rubbermaid and you’d be hard pressed to tell it apart from the $9.99 rent-a-car special. The big difference with the SRT versions was that Chrysler stuffed a 425HP 6.1L V8 under the hood and a set of pipes that made the 300 sound like sex. The uncomfortable seats, crappy dash plastics and 1990s stereo were distant memories. If Chrysler had managed to fit the same V8 into the Sebring, it would have been the best convertible ever. This time is different. Before the 2013 300 SRT8 arrived, I decided I would not be seduced by Chrysler’s larger, meaner, sexier, more powerful 6.4L engine and review it like any other car. Can that be done?

Click here to view the embedded video.

Exterior

Our refrigerator white tester is impossible to confuse with anything else on the road. While there are still some Bentleyesque features, the 300 is solidly Chrysler metal from the long hood to the slim greenhouse. The 300′s tall and blunt nose is entirely functional and the bold sheetmetal is truly function over form. You see, the 6.4L pushrod V8 is very tall and very long, jamming it under a modern sloping hood to a aerodynamic nose simply wouldn’t have worked. That height dictates the beginning of the greenhouse around the front doors and that line continues rearward.

Out back, things have been brought up market with new tail lamps that don’t have the same bargain basement theme as the first generation 300. Despite the improvements there’s something unfinished about the 300′s looks to my eye. Perhaps the original 300 was so bold my expectations for a redesign were unachievable.

For SRT8 duty Chrysler swaps the stock wheels for wide 20-inch aluminum shod with 245/45R20 all-season rubber and the front grille turns black. Nestled inside the larger wheels are larger rotors with four-piston Brembo brakes (14.2-inch up front and 13.8 in the rear.) The rest of the SRT8 changes are subtle enough that they may go unnoticed unless parked next to a lesser 300. The same finlets that sprouted in 2011 are present on the SRT8 and there’s no ridiculous wing or funky chin spoiler to destroy the 300′s luxury lines.

Those luxury lines are important in another way, they help justify the SRT8 Core’s  $44,250 base price. The Core model is a new twist in Chrysler’s SRT8 plot offering a bit more than just a “decontented” ride. In order to get the $4,000 lower starting price the Core ditches the leather seats, HID headlamps and adaptive suspension. Core models can be distinguished by the 6.4L badge on the front fenders, more aggressive wheels and the blacked out halogen headlamps from the 300S.

Interior

Nevermore has an automotive interior gone from plastastic to fantastic so rapidly as the 300 and it’s all down to stitched cow. The SRT8 Core model and base SRT8 models make do with a slightly rubbery injection molded dashboard, a $2,500 option on the non-Core SRT8 takes you to a place hitherto the exclusive domain of six-figure luxury cars: the full-leather dashboard.  Trust me, the cash is worth it. Without the upgrade, the Camcord quality interior plastics stick out like a sore thumb, with it your passengers will be fawning over your french seams. While the 300 interior feels less expensive than an M5 or E63, it’s a better place to spend your time than a CTS-V.

SRT8 shoppers need to be prepared for a sea of black or some fairly striking red as they are the only two interior colors offered in the 300 SRT8 and carbon fibre is the only trim available. I’m not usually a fan of black-on-black interiors, but Chrysler thankfully breaks things up a bit with Alcantara faux-suede sections in the seats. SRT8 Core shoppers have less choice being offered only in a black-cloth configuration.

All models get reworked front seats that offer more lateral bolstering but still suffer from Chrysler’s latest seat-oddity: seat cushions you sit on rather than in. While not as pronounced as the seats in the Chrysler 200 Convertible we had, I had the constant feeling I was sitting on a large gumdrop. Despite this, the seats proved reasonably comfortable on my long commute despite the lack of thigh support this design causes. Just keep in mind that Alcantara can be a maintenance bear, so avoid spills and trousers made of rough fabric. Don’t know what I’m talking about? Just Google “Alcantara pilling” to educate yourself.

Thanks to the super-sized proportions, the 300 offers the same amount of rear legroom as the Cadillac XTS. To put that in perspective, that’s several inches more than a BMW M5, Jaguar XFR, Cadillac CTS-V or Mercedes E63, all of which could be considered valid SRT8 competition. The 300 is more closely aligned in terms of size to the next-tier up in vehicles, the short wheelbase 7-Series, Cadillac XTS, short wheelbase XJ, etc.

Infotainment

Chrysler’s 8.4-inch uConnect infotainment system is standard although the Core model cuts the nav software to keep the price of entry low. uConnect is proof that being late to the party has advantages. Chrysler had more time to work out bugs, or maybe they just had better engineers working on the system, whatever the reason uConnect runs circles around MyFord Touch and Cadillac’s CUE in terms of response time and reliability. To date I have not had a Ford, Lincoln or Cadillac test car that didn’t have a total melt-down that required me to pull a fuse to reboot.

The system combines radio, multimedia, climate control, navigation, Bluetooth and other functions into a single screen. While some functions have duplicated hardware buttons, others can only be controlled via the touchscreen. This is both good and bad. It eliminates the button array plaguing Buick and Acura models, but some functions take longer and require more “eyes off the road” time than a hardware button. Stabbing the right button with gloves on is also a challenge.

The latest software adds full voice control of your USB/iDevice and worked very well without the library size limitations Toyota products suffer from. MyFord Touch offers a wider variety of “commandable” items and more natural command syntax, but  uConnect has a more natural voice and faster processing. Sadly the Garmin navigation isn’t well integrated into the system looking as if you’d just cut a hole in the screen and put a portable Garmin behind it. The look isn’t surprising since that’s exactly what Chrysler did, except they did it in software, not with a razor blade. While it makes uConnect’s navigation option inexpensive and easy to update, the graphics and menu structure don’t jive with the rest of the system and nav voice commands are very different from other cars on the market. Chevy’s new MyLink’s interface is just as snappy as uConnect but offers more polished navigation commands and a more seamless interface.

SRT8 models get additional apps tailored to the vehicle (shown above). The SRT apps include a race timer, G-Force displays as well as several screens of additional gauges like oil temperature, incoming air temperature, battery voltage, etc. There is also a custom screen that shows exactly how much power and torque the ginormous engine is cranking out at any moment. If you want the latest in uConnect with 911 asist and 3rd party smartphone apps, you’ll need to wait until Chrysler refreshes the 300 with the same system the new Grand Cherokee and RAMs use. If you want to know more about uConnect, check out the video at the beginning of the review.

Drivetrain

OK, this is the section you’ve been waiting for. Chrysler didn’t just tweak the old 6.1L SRT engine from the first generation SRT8 vehicles, and they didn’t just grab the Challenger Drag Pack/Mopar Crate engine either. You heard that right, this is not the “392 Hemi” in the Mopar catalog. Instead, Chrysler went back to the drawing board, cast a new block and built the new 6.4/392 around the design framework of the revised 2009 5.7L Hemi. This means you get variable cam timing to improve power and emissions, and Chrysler’s Multi Displacement System to improve efficiency. The redesigned engine still uses two valves and two spark plugs per cylinder and a heavily modified semi-hemispherical design. With as much engineering time as they undoubtedly spent, I’m somewhat surprised Chrysler didn’t cook up a dual-overhead cam SRT engine. No matter, there’s something primal about owning a car with an enormous push-rod V8.

Chrysler didn’t stop at enlarging the displacement, power is way up as well. The new monster is good for 470 horsepower and a stump-pulling 470 lb-ft of torque. While that may not sound like a huge improvement over the old 425HP 6.1L engine, the new 6.4 produces 90 lb-ft (or one whole Prius) more torque at 2,900 RPM. But that’s not all. Thanks to the trick cam timing, the new engine out powers the old by at least 60lb-ft from idle all the way to 5,600 RPM. The old SRT8 was a stout machine, but back-to-back, it feels like it runs out of breath easily. The improved thrust takes the 300 from 0-60 in a quick 4.5 seconds and finished the quarter mile in 12.87 seconds at a blistering 113 MPH. Those numbers aren’t that far removed from the BMW M5, E63 AMG, or Jaguar XFR-S.

If you were hoping 2013 would bring the new ZF/Chrysler 8-speed transmission to the SRT8, so was I. Sadly, the only cog-swapper offered on the 300 SRT8 is the old Mercedes 5-Speed that the 300 has been using since 2004. I wouldn’t say the Merc tranny is bad, but it’s not exactly a team player either. The shifts are somewhat sluggish, particularly when downshifting, and the ratios are far enough apart that highway passing can be dramatic or anticlimactic depending on how far down the transmission is willing to shift. Driven in a vacuum the WA580 is an acceptable play mate, but drive that Grand Cherokee SRT8 parked next to the 300 on the lot and your eyes will be opened.

If you believe that there is no replacement for displacement, the 300 SRT8 will be your poster boy. Sure, the latest German twin-turbo V8s put down more power, but the American bruiser has something they can’t deliver: a raucous V8 sound track. Proving the point I had the opportunity at a regional media event to drive several Mercedes, BMW and Chrysler models back-to-back on Mazda Raceway Laguna Seca. The M6 blew down the main straight at a blistering pace with a tame, almost muted exhaust note. You can thank the turbos in the exhaust for that. Meanwhile hearing the 300 SRT8, Challenger SRT8 and Grand Cherokee SRT8 blast down the straight at the same time nearly made me pee my pants.

So it sounds good and clears 60 in 4.5. What’s not to love? The tire selection. All 300 SRT8s come standard with 245 width all-season rubber all the way around. Chrysler does offer a summer tire package, but it’s not what you want either. According to the 300 forum fan boys, you can stuff some seriously wide 295 or 305 width rubber in the rear without rubbing and there are a few companies out there making wider replica wheels so you can retain the stock look. Going this route will do a few things for you. The most obvious if the improved grip in the corners which is already good, but a lightly modified 300 proved it has the ability to be excellent and second you’ll get better 0-60 numbers. In our testing the 300 spent so much time spinning the “narrow” all-season rubber, I suspect a 4.3 second sprint to 60 is possible. Of course, that rumored 8-speed auto may provide a similar performance bump, the new cog swapper dropped the Grand Cherokee SRT8′s 0-60 time by a full second.

When the going gets twisty Chrysler’s adaptive suspension (not available in the core model) and regular old hydraulic assist power steering conspire to create a modern Dr Jekyll and Mr Hide. In standard mode the suspension is moderately firm and compliant, soaking up roadway irregularities like a taut German cruiser. In Sport mode the system stiffens the dampers and attempts to counteract tip/dive and sideways motions. In Track Sport the dampers are set to their stiffest mode and the 5-speed auto gets downshift happy. On regular road surfaces the suspension never felt punishing, even on broken pavement, which translates to a slightly soft ride on the track, a worthy trade-off in my book, since few new cars are headed for the track anyway.  The decision to leave electric power steering off the table for the moment makes the enormous and moderately numb Chrysler have perhaps the best steering feel in this coat-closet-sized segment.

As before, the 300 SRT8 represents an incredible value compared to the other high-performance RWD sedans on the market. The difference is, this time around I don’t have any caveats attached to that. Our well-equipped tester rang in at $56,235 with every option except the black roof, up-level paint and tinted chrome bits. That’s about $12,000 less than a comparable CTS-V, and a whopping $40,000 less than a comparable M5 or E63. Of course the SRT8 isn’t going to have the exclusivity or snob value of the Germans and it’s less powerful for sure, but the fact that we can even have this discussion is saying something. While the 6.4L engine is undeniably intoxicating, the 300 SRT8 finally gets better under the harsh light of reality. Chrysler’s new-found ability to craft a desirable interior and competitive infotainment system mean you won’t have to “live with” much other than the 5-speed automatic. Give Chrysler a year or two and even that caveat may be lifted.

Hit it

• Sexy optional leather dash is a must.
• Endless torque.
• Bragging rights: My engine is bigger than yours.

Quit it

• Ye olde 5-speed should have been swapped for the sweet 8-speed this year. For shame.
• Rubbery dashboard in the Core model.
• AWD would make the SRT8 sell easier in the north.

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

Specifications as tested:

0-30: 2.08 Seconds

0-40: 2.8 Seconds

0-50: 3.66 Seconds

0-60: 4.5 Seconds

0-70: 5.73 Seconds

0-80: 7.0 Seconds

0-90: 8.83 Seconds

0-100: 10.54 Seconds

0-110: 12.5 Secodns

1/4 Mile:  12.87 Seconds @ 113 MPH

Average fuel economy: 17.8 over 566 miles

The latest sign that the product planners and marketers at Fiat and Chrysler have muffed the launch of the Dodge Dart is the announcement that their Dundee, Michigan engine plant that builds the Dart’s turbocharged 1.4 liter Multiair FIRE engine has fired or reassigned 58 employees and is eliminating a second shift. The shift reduction follows remarks at the 2013 NAIAS media preview by Fiat boss Sergio Marchionne blaming poor Dart sales on the powertrain offerings. “The powertrain solutions we made available to that car, in today’s world, in hindsight, were not the ideal solution,” Mr. Marchionne said. Consumers have been disappointed in sluggish performance of the Dart.  TTAC reviewer Michael Karesh said that 1.4 L turbo motor was “soft south of 3,000 rpm”.

In the critical C segment, where many manufacturers sell 200,000 (or in the case of the Honda Civic >300,000) cars a year in North America, the Dart sold only about 25,000 units since it was introduced in July.

The Dundee plant, originally a joint venture between Chrysler, Mitsubishi and Daimler, is Chrysler’s only American factory that makes four cylinder engines. After the changes, the plant will still employ 750 people. In the personnel moves, fourteen probationary employees were let go (the UAW is appealing their termination) and another 44 were reassigned to other jobs. Chrysler spokesperson Jodi Tinson put a positive face on the plant announcement, since the same factory will soon start building more of the 2.4 liter TigerShark engine that Chrysler hopes will be a better fit for consumers, but her comments more or less acknowledge that product planners made a mistake with the Darts that first hit the showrooms. “We have a new powertrain for the Dart coming online, and so we are rebalancing the mix for the Dart.”

According to Marchionne, another drivetrain improvement for the Dart, a nine-speed automatic transmission supplied by ZF, won’t be ready until 2014.

The Dart is the first new Chrysler product that wasn’t already in the pipeline when Marchionne and his minions were gifted the company by the U.S. government’s task force on restructuring GM and Chrysler. If I’m not mistaken, the production of a MPG small car was part of the government’s conditions on Fiat’s control of the Auburn Hills automaker. The piecemeal way in which the Dart’s powertrain choices are being expanded gives the impression that the car was rushed to market, using whatever they had on the shelf, in this case the 1.4L turbo, originally intended for a smaller car, the Fiat 500.

Ronnie Schreiber edits Cars In Depth, a realistic perspective on cars & car culture and the original 3D car site. If you found this post worthwhile, you can dig deeper at Cars In Depth. If the 3D thing freaks you out, don’t worry, all the photo and video players in use at the site have mono options. Thanks for reading – RJS

So you want your next car to be a cheap drop top that seats four? If you live in America, your options are strangely limited. By my count, only five convertibles are available on our shores that seat four and cost under $30,000. If you cross the “convertible hatchbacks” (Cooper and 500c) off the list you’re left with three options. The Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder, Ford Mustang and the former king of the convertible sales chart: the Chrysler Sebring 200. Does this re-skinned front driver have what it takes to win back the “best-selling convertible in America” crown?

Click here to view the embedded video.

Exterior

Convertible sales have been on a downward spiral since 1950. At the rate we’re going, only 1.1 percent of new cars sold in America in 2012 will be drop-tops. What’s to blame? Well, the old Sebring certainly didn’t help.

Since a euthanization just wasn’t in the cards, Chrysler opted for a re-skin. Much like a freakish face transplant from your favorite B-grade movie, the Sebring was nip/tucked everywhere except the doors and the roof. I can almost see the mask being peeled off by Sean Connery. Trouble is, as Mythbusters demonstrated, a new face can’t hide what’s underneath. The awkward hood strakes are gone, replaced by smooth sheetmetal and a new nose sporting Chrysler’s wavy corporate grille. Unfortunately nothing could be done to make the enormous trunk lid disappear, so the 200 still has more booty than a Sir Mix-A-Lot music video. Frankenstein touched off the transformation with new wheels, LED running lamps and bling-tastic 17 and 18 inch wheels. The result is a design that is strangely more cohesive than the original, more of a statement of how wrong the original vehicle was than anything else.

As with the Sebring, shoppers can choose between a traditional canvas top or a trendy three-piece folding hard top for an extra $1,995. Top operation is restricted to speeds under 1MPH and takes 27 seconds to complete with the cloth top and 30 with the hard top, essentially precluding stop light top drops.

Interior

Inside our 200 S, the Sebring origins are obvious despite the redesign. How so? It’s all in the shapes. The parts are at least as snazzy as anyone’s, but because Chrysler couldn’t afford to change the car’s hard points, the Sebring’s silhouette is unmistakeable in the strange door handle position and the incredibly tall dashboard. Shapes aside, nobody can fault the materials and workmanship. Gone are the made-like-Rubbermaid plastics, gone are the faux-tortoise-shell accents. Thankfully the “fin” that dominated the dashboard like a veruca has been sliced off. Replacing the strangely shaped (and strangely appointed) rubbery steering wheel is Chrysler’s new corporate tiller from the 300. The same soft leather, chunky rim and audio controls hidden on the back of the wheel are also along for the ride.

Seat comfort is something of a mixed bag. The rear seats are unusual for a convertible: they are sized for normal adults and shaped the way you’d expect a seat to be shaped. Why does that sound amazing? Most “four seat” convertibles have rear seat backs that are either strangely upright or angled forward to get them to fit in the vehicle. Meanwhile the 200 has rear thrones suitable for a 2 hour wine tasting excursion. Sadly the front seats aren’t as comfortable suffering from a firm and “over stuffed” bottom cushion that made me feel like I was perched on a large gumdrop. Or a tuffet. This is a seating position only Ms Muffet would appreciate.

Carrying four people with relative ease is something of a marvel, but asking any convertible to carry four people’s luggage is just a pipe dream. At 13.3 cubes, the 200′s bootilicious rump can easily swallow four roller bags and some hand luggage. Drop the top and the space shrinks to 6.6 cubes, good for a garment bag, one roller bag and a purse. A small purse. Don’t think buying the soft top will improve things, Chrysler designed the roof sections in such a way that the hard and soft tops share some common design elements and occupy the same space in the trunk.

Infotainment

The one interior item not touched in the Sebring-to-200 transformation was the infotainment system. We get the same six-speaker base unit in the 200 Touring with the same CD player and Sirius Radio. If you want to pair your Bluetooth phone, that will set you back $360. The limited model comes with a 6.5-inch head unit that adds standard Bluetooth, USB and iDevice love and a 40GB hard drive based music library. A $475 Boston Acoustics speaker package is available on the 200 Limited and standard on the 200 S. Chrysler’s last-generation nav system is also available for an extra $695 in the upper trims of the 200, but honestly you’d be better off going aftermarket.

Drivetrain

Perhaps the biggest change during the 200′s metamorphosis is under the hood. The weaksauce 2.7L and aging 3.5L V6s have been replaced with Chrysler’s new 283HP 3.6L V6 mated to their in-house built 6-speed auto. As a mid-year change, the unloved 2.4L four cylinder also gets some 6-speed love. The extra two cogs on the four-banger mean it is finally the economy choice delivering 20/31 MPG vs 19/29 for the V6. Before you discount the V6 in favor of economy, our real-world figures put them on equal footing and with over 4,000lbs to motivate there is a serious penalty for not checking that $1,795 option box.

Drive

The Sebring was horrible on the road. The chassis felt like a wet noodle, the cowl shake was so bad you could have churned butter and the whole car was so unresponsive that steering and throttle input were more suggestions than commands. Despite shedding none of the nearly 4,100lb curb weight, the 200 does offer some rather unexpected improvement. While there is no hiding the fact that the 200 is a heavy front-driver, the 200 proved enough fun on the winding Northern California back roads that I found myself wishing for upgraded brakes. Seriously. Who would have thought?

The 200′s suspension tweaks have finally put the kibosh on wheel hop. When equipped with the V6, front-wheel-peel is easy to achieve and fairly amusing. Drive the 200 back to back with a Mustang however and you’ll forget all about the comfier back seats. You’ll also be painfully aware how overweight the 200 has become. There is no question that however improved the 200′s handling is, it will always play second fiddle to Ford’s topless pony.

How it stacks up

If the Sebring and 200 existed in a vacuum, we would laud the 200 for being a substantial change and the best convertible ever. The problem of course is that shoppers have options and pricing is the ever-present bugbear. In my mind, anything can be forgiven for the right price. Is the Nissan Versa cheap and “plasticky”? Damn right. But it’s the cheapest car in America, so who cares? The Chrysler 200? It has a $26,995 problem. Yes it is cheaper than the Mustang, Camaro, Eclipse, and EOS. But is it cheap enough? Let’s do the math.

First off, nobody should be subjected to the four-cylinder 200, so $27,600 becomes the real base price. The Mustang convertible starts at $27,200, toss in the automatic transmission and you’re at $28,395. For the extra $795, the Ford delivers vastly improved handling, more power, less weight and improved fuel economy. Win: Ford

The Camaro convertible is $32,745 (base with the automatic) and delivers at least $3,500 of standard equipment when compared to the 200 making the true cost of 326HP and a better RWD chassis $1,645. Win: Chevy

The 200 gets some relief when pitted against the ancient and expensive Eclipse Spyder with its old 4-speed automatic and haphazard interior. Mitsubishi wants $27,999 for admission to the four-cylinder, four-speed party and a ticket to the 265HP V6 show will run you an eye-popping $32,828. Win: Chrysler

The 200 delivers a bigger trunk than many mid-size sedans, more rear legroom than Mustang, better visibility than Camaro and better “everythings” than an Eclipse. The 200 is certainly not the best convertible in the segment, but at least Chrysler’s changes mean you don’t have to pretend you’re just renting a summer car anymore. Don’t believe me? Rent one yourself and see. TTAC’s last word? If you want a front-driver, save $1,000 and buy the MINI Cooper convertible.

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

Specifications as tested:

0-30: 2.7 Seconds

0-60: 7.1 Seconds

1/4 Mile:  15.3 Seconds @ 94 MPH

Average fuel economy: 21 over 645 miles

The K-car saved Chrysler the company. The K-car almost destroyed Chrysler the brand. Lee Iaccoca and his team spun nearly endless and very profitable iterations of the K platform and components including the company’s market segment creating minivans. Starting with the LeBaron in 1983, followed by the stretched wheelbase E Class, the company also began using the K-car underpinnings for it’s premium brand, Chrysler. Eventually almost every vehicle in the Chrysler showroom was based on the K-car. In the 1950s and 1960s, before Chrysler’s almost terminal decline in the late 1970s, Chrysler was indeed the company’s premium brand.

Plymouth fought it out with Ford and Chevy, the other members of the “low priced three”, and Dodge took care of more middle class offerings. Those were Chrysler’s volume brands. Chryslers, on the other hand were bigger and more luxurious. They may have shared some engineering and components with the company’s more plebeian brands, but they had distinctive sheet metal and features and were marketed as luxury cars. Though the Chrysler K variants were not unattractive cars, and though they sold reasonably well there was no hiding their K-car heritage. For nearly a generation “Chrysler” meant a K-car with velour upholstery on the inside and fake wood on the outside.

Forget all those faux Chryslers with front wheel drive and K-car genes. The Chrysler 300 Luxury Series is a genuine Chrysler (though some of its DNA is imported from Stuttgart, courtesy of the ill-fated Daimler-Chrysler hookup). It’s a big, comfortable rear wheel drive car packed with almost every amenity one could ask for in a modern automobile. It has more than adequate power, the handling will never get you into trouble, it has some trick tech features that improve the driving experience, and in general it is far truer to the Chrysler brand than most of the cars sold under that label for the better part of the last three decades.

Let’s start with the driving dynamics. This 300 was equipped with Chrysler’s most modern drivetrain, consisting of the 292 horsepower Pentastar V6 engine connected to Chrysler’s new 8-speed automatic transmission that ZF is supplying (the “imported from Detroit” 300 was assembled in Canada using an engine built in Mexico and a German transmission). The combination works very well together, with more than enough power and the right gear available for just about any real world driving situation.

The Chrysler 300 Luxury Series takes that later appellation seriously. This is a car that has been tuned and soundproofed to be very quiet and very smooth. It’s exceptionally quiet. Yes, the V6 will provide a satisfying howl when you get over 5,000 RPM, but otherwise the car is almost whisper quiet inside. At speed the HVAC system is noisier than what you’re hearing from outside the car. I can’t say that the Jaguar XJ Portfolio that I tested was appreciably quieter. The ride is very smooth though I think I would have preferred 19″ wheels to the supplied twenties. The chassis is already tuned for comfort, not for handling, and I think 19s would have made the ride smoother yet without making the cornering worse. That doesn’t mean it’s a ponderous hulk that’s hard to steer.

The suspension is well-controlled, if not Euro sports sedan firm. Though the car understeers unless you’re really trying to get the back end moving, turn in is quick, steering is precise, and the car will go where you steer it if you need more lock. There’s not a huge amount of steering feedback, this is not a Lotus Elan, nor even a Mazda3, the current standard for good steering feel, but it’s also a far cry from the palm the wheel overpowered steering by remote control of Chrysler’s big sedans of yore. With fully independent suspension, the chassis is hard to upset and I found myself seeking out bad pavement to see how well the harshness was muted. There’s a section of concrete near the Northland shopping center that wasn’t leveled properly when it was poured. At the left edge of one of the lanes is about a quarter mile of oscillations that are so bad that in some cars you might think that something’s mechanically broken. The 300 did an admirable job coping with those oscillations. Even irregularly washboarded asphalt didn’t upset the 300′s equanimity much. Brakes are very good. The few times that I wanted or had to slow down quickly were done without fuss. They are easily modulated though sometimes the brakes felt a little grabby just before coming to a complete stop. The Rolls-Royce chauffeurs’ school method of reducing pedal pressure “six inches before you stop” came in handy.

In general, though, the car was very smooth and well composed. It’s a very easy car to live with.

Electronics worked fine. The 8.4 inch touchscreen with Chrysler’s UConnect worked very well, and I didn’t have to RTFM beyond checking how to pair my phone. Remote audio controls are mounted on the back of the steering wheel, near the paddle shifters and work fairly intuitively. The system easily accessed the music on my Android phone and phone integration worked fine with one exception when it wanted to redirect the audio on a phone call back to the phone resulting in no phone audio on that call at all. It’s possible that the one glitch was caused by the phone, not the car. Speaking of electronic glitches, one time when I turned the car on, the HVAC system started blowing hot air and setting it to AC or ACC didn’t seem to do anything. Shutting off the car and restarting made the problem go away. The smart key worked nicely. They’re convenient but I’ll be happy when the fobs are more miniaturized.

The audio system, a premium Alpine branded unit, sounded great, though I was surprised that it didn’t play louder than it did. There are enough regular knobs and switches for regularly used functions to not be inconvenienced by the touchscreen. There is a power sunscreen for the back window that is only accessible via the touchscreen, as are the controls for the heated seats and steering wheel, but if someone tosses you the keys, you won’t have to keep accessing the infotainment system just to drive the car. I suppose that if Fiat-Chrysler could save money on the base Fiat 500 by deleting keyed locks on the little car’s passenger door and hatchback, figuring folks wouldn’t notice because of the “free” power locks, most Chrysler 300 buyers also won’t notice that the power sunscreen doesn’t have a dedicated switch. The heated and cooled cupholders in the console, by the way, do have dedicated switches, one for each cupholder.

The other day Steve Lang asked “what is a ‘loaded’ car these days?“. By any reasonable measure, this 300 was loaded, stickering out at $44,855. It had the Safety Tec package ($2,420), the Luxury Group ($3,250), the 300 Luxury Series group ($3,500), a dual pane panoramic sunroof ($1,495) and UConnect ($795). Leather with detail stitching is appliqued to hard surfaces all over the interior, covering the entire dashboard and most of the other points that you’d touch. A lot of what isn’t leather is covered in real wood, including a nifty slatted roll-top cover for the heated and cooled cupholders. I work with leather in my day job and I’d say that the equivalent of at least one cow gave it’s skin for this car.

The seats have perforated leather seating surfaces and are heated, front and back, with the front seats also getting ventilation. One nice touch is that in addition to 8 way power seats, the pedal cluster can also be power adjusted. Since I have long arms and short legs, that’s a nice feature. The vinyl used on the seat backs and sides is of good quality. There is some hard plastic used on the door panels, and though it’s obviously hard plastic, it’s a decent color and grain match to the leather.

Everything worked, there were no rattles. Other than the mentioned glitches, the only glaring quality control issue on a car with 2,940 miles reading on the odometer was a piece of wood trim above the glove box whose double sided tape was failing so the trim was hanging a bit loosely. Glaring because the rest of the interior fit and finish was very good.

I’m a bit of a multi-speed skeptic. When I bought my first nice bicycle, it had an 8-speed rear hub. Over the years Shimano and Campagnolo have gone to nine, then ten, and now eleven cogs on the back wheel, even though most cyclists do most of their riding in just a handful of gear ratios. My first car had a two-speed Powerglide and I wondered if you really need more than six speeds in a transmission. I was a skeptic, now I’m a believer.

I had concerns that the ZF box would, as a Car and Driver reviewer said about the late, unlamented Chrysler 604 gearbox, hunt like a Jack Russel terrier. That wasn’t the case. It is the smoothest shifting transmission I’ve ever experienced. In sedate driving you almost have to watch the tach to tell that it’s made an upshift. Like with many modern cars I’m not thrilled with how the throttle is mapped for slow response just off of idle, nor do I like transmissions programmed for fuel mileage so they try to start in as high a gear as possible, but other than that initial hesitation I find with a lot today’s slushbox cars, the drivetrain is silky smooth. I may lose car guy cred here, but by the end of the week that I had with the 300, I stopped feeling the need to play with the lovely magnesium paddle shifters (placed right in the airstream from the HVAC vents so you know from touch that they’re real metal), and pretty much let the ZF shift for itself. I’d wager that the folks at ZF know more about shifting than I do. Other than forcing downshifts, the paddles didn’t get used much. Shifting up and down manually through eight gears seemed out of character with the car.

Speaking of shifting, the shift lever on the console works electronically and does not use the conventional PRNDL sequence. PRNDL was made a standard before I got my driver’s license so it took a little effort getting used to it, but it becomes second nature, though I have questions about how to rock the car between forward and reverse without damaging the transmission in the event of snow. As modern as the transmission is, there was one behavior that reminded me of a vintage three speed automatic with a properly working kickdown control. With only three speeds, there was a lot of spacing between the ratios, so when you wanted to go, you put your foot into it and the transmission would downshift into what today we’d consider a much lower gear, just as the carburetor secondaries were starting to dump more fuel into the engine. Assuming you were driving a big American land yacht with a V8, your head would snap back as you accelerated. Big fun on the highway. With the ZF and the Pentastar, putting your foot deep into it at highway speeds will downshift the gearbox by two or more ratios and the car just goes.

The fun may be retro but there is a modern benefit to all those gear rations: improved fuel economy. This car is EPA rated at 19/31 which sounds just about right from my experience. Over a bit more than 300 miles, I  got an indicated average of 23.6 MPG in mostly urban and suburban driving. That figure is even more impressive that it sounds because it included about 20 minutes of idling at 0 MPG while my elderly mom kept cool in the car as I waited, in vain, for a fax from an embroidery customer to arrive at an Office Depot. From the instantaneous readings on the freeway, my guess is that if you keep it at the speed limit, you should get close to that 31 mpg on the highway. Actually, you can use the paddle shifters to hypermile if you want to, putting it into a higher gear when the computer thinks a lower gear is more appropriate. It’s impressive to watch the revs drop to about 1,100 without the engine bogging down and lugging, particularly because 260 lb-ft of torque doesn’t sound like a huge amount of grunt, but most of that torque is available over a wide RPM band. In any case, the ECU and transmission controls won’t let you really lug the engine – with so many ratios to choose from, there’s going to be a lower gear available if you need it.

Aesthetically it’s a handsome car. This 300 came in “Luxury Brown Pearl” on the outside and “dark frost beige” and “light frost beige” on the inside. Derek wasn’t joking when he said that they make press fleet cars in brown. The chase car from the fleet management company that dropped off the Chrysler was a similarly colored E Class Benz. The photographs don’t really do the paint justice as there is a considerable amount of pearl flake in the finish.

The Luxury Series option package includes “platinum” chrome trim on the outside, and it looks rather tasteful, a subtle departure from shiny chrome. That goes together with most of the “bright” work inside that also has a matte finish. One exception is the shiny chrome ring that separates the light and dark beige leathers on the hand stitched steering wheel cover. Chrysler might want to consider going to a brushed finish because in bright sun that ring gets very hot to the touch. Concerning that touch, it revealed another small flaw. The ring is seated in a groove, but as your hand moves around the wheel you can feel high and low spots on the chrome ring. It’s not seating perfectly uniformly around the wheel. It’s not enough to be visually obvious, maybe a millimeter or two at most, but you can feel it. Other than that minor issue, the steering wheel looks and feels great. The two-tone leather is an attractive take on the traditional sewn leather steering wheel cover.

The exterior styling is an evolution of the original 2005 RWD 300, which was based on Osamu Shikado’s 1998 Chronos concept, itself based, according to Shikado, on the Exner/Ghia Chrysler concepts of the 1950s. Visibility is good, at least forward and to the sides. Out the back you see the rear window and nothing else, it’s as though the back decklid doesn’t exist, which is surprising when you consider the high belt line and high rear deck.

Blind spots could be worse but when you factor in the tunnel vision out the back window, you’ll come to appreciate the blind spot warning markers lighting up in the side mirrors. When you park, be careful of those mirrors because they must not be cheap. In addition to the blind spot warning light, a LED courtesy light shines through the surface of the mirror onto the door and pavement when the car unlocks, and built into the outside shell of the mirrors are additional LED turn indicators.

Even if you can’t see it from the driver’s seat, the trunk really is back there. It seems large, though I never really put it to serious use. Two sets of gold clubs for sure, maybe enough room for the whole foursome. The rear seat back folds down in a 60/40 split if you need to carry something long. If you buy a 300, I’d consider the Safety Tec package. That gives you, among other features, a backup camera and a park assist system that fortunately is also sensitive to cross traffic when backing up. I’m not a huge fan of backup cameras but this one works well and the side viewing radar (or IR, however it works)) mitigates visibility issues out the back window.

All four doors open widely, for easy access. Actually, some might think the front doors open too widely, since you’d have to have a simian wingspan to be able to reach a fully opened door to pull it closed. I had plenty of room, front or back seat, but then I’m only 5’6″. Ergonomics is good. All controls can be easily reached from the driver’s normal position. The seats were comfortable though I would have preferred more bolstering. Drivers with large and wide feet might not like the location of the gas pedal, which is cheek by jowl with the transmission tunnel.

All the toys and nannies worked well. The blind spot warning was less obtrusive than others I’ve experienced, though if someone listens to the Forward Collision Warning system every time, they’re going to get rear ended after unnecessarily applying the brakes. I think stability control only kicked in once, when aggressively cornering, and even with it off you have to work a bit to drift. The tires could be grippier, they’ll chirp a bit when you drive enthusiastically, but again that’s not exactly what this car is for.

With all the option boxes checked, there is no shortage of automatic this and automatic that. One automatic feature that I didn’t like is the automatic bright headlights. I’m old school, it’s called a dimmer switch for a reason, that being there is a normal position and then the dimmed position. At night if there’s nobody else on the road, I like to use the maximum candlepower available to me. If you have the headlights set to auto, you lose control of the bright lights and they only turn on when the car decides that ambient light is low enough to warrant brighter headlamps. If you want to drive with your brights on steadily, you’re going to have to put the adaptive bi-xenon HID units in manual mode.

In conclusion, the Chrysler 300 Luxury Series seems to be a very well fettled car. There’s a harmony and balance that makes it a very pleasurable car to drive. It isn’t a canyon carver, but then that’s not what it was designed to do. It was designed to waft you in quiet comfort, with all the automotive amenities at your fingertips. I’m at a point in my life where there nothing wrong with a little comfort. Cruising down Eight Mile on a beautiful summer night, the Tigers on the radio, Justin Verlander striking out the side against the Yankees, panoramic moonroof letting in the fresh air, I found myself thinking, “I could be very happy with this as a daily driver.”

I also found myself thinking, “Who is going to spend $45K on a Chrysler 300?”. Forty five thousand dollars will buy you a number of fine automobiles. At that price you can start considering a Cadillac CTS or a BMW 3 Series among other brands that might have more cachet and luxury cred than Chrysler these days. The Infiniti G37 comes to mind, as do some Audis. Forty five grand gives you a lot of choices. Still, comparably equipped, the Caddy, BMW or those other cars are likely to be a few thousand dollars more than the 300 Luxury Series. Once you’re over $40K that difference might seem worth it – at least before you drive the 300. Drive the 300 equipped as I tested it and you just might decide that it’s luxurious enough.

Disclaimer and credits: Chrysler provided the car for seven days, insurance and a tank of gas. Photos courtesy of Cars In Depth. The Chrysler Special was photographed at the Walter P. Chrysler Museum in Auburn Hills, MI. The Chronos concept was photographed at the Concours of America at St. John’s. It was on display in conjunction with retired Chrysler styling chief Tom Gale’s induction into the Automotive Hall of Fame.

Ronnie Schreiber edits Cars In Depth, a realistic perspective on cars & car culture and the original 3D car site. If you found this post worthwhile, you can dig deeper at Cars In Depth. If the 3D thing freaks you out, don’t worry, all the photo and video players in use at the site have mono options. Thanks for reading– RJS

Back in the day, “American cars” were vast pieces of rolling sculpture powered by low-revving V8s driving the rear wheels through three-speed slushboxes. With a column shifter and bench front seat, they were designed to float effortlessly along in a straight line. The “imports” were the opposite of all of the above. Today these distinctions have all but disappeared. Four-wheeled wretched excess—in styling, in horsepower, in features, in sheer mass—has become much more typical of Munich and Stuttgart than Detroit. Neither GM nor Ford even offers a large rear-wheel-drive sedan to Americans. If you want the most traditionally American car available—that isn’t a truck—your only options come from an Italian-controlled plant in Canada. The 2011 Dodge Charger (in 370-horsepower R/T form) and I didn’t hit it off. Perhaps the Dodge, with its “four-door muscle car” exterior and 4/3-scale instrument panel, was just too American for me. So I requested the Chrysler variant to test the 470-horsepower SRT mill. Is the 2012 Chrysler 300C SRT8 too American, appropriately American, or not American enough?

Exterior styling: appropriately American

In recent decades, domestic manufacturers haven’t had much luck getting the general public to notice their new cars. But periodically they put one out that EVERYONE notices. With bold, even brash styling, the 2005 Chrysler 300C was one of these cars. The 2011 redesign is more elegant and less gangsta. Would it have made as great an impact as the 2005 back in ‘04? Probably not. But with the 2005 to blaze a trail, and a strong resemblance between the two, the second-gen car can afford to be more subtle. The “baby Bentley” grille (stealing from the Brits being a longstanding American tradition) has been toned down, perhaps overly much. But a little rake to the beltline, which lends the car a more dynamic appearance, and a brilliantly executed rear end make up for this. Have the refinements robbed the 300C of its distinctly American character? Well, American styling isn’t necessarily over-the-top. Detroit didn’t only give the world the ’57 300C and ’59 Eldo. It also gave us the ’61 Continental and ’63 Riv.

Interior styling: not American enough

The 2005 Chrysler 300C’s interior was too traditionally American, with rectangular elements finished in silver and trimmed in faux chrome. With the 2011 redesign the interior was entirely redone. Materials have been upgraded, yet aside from the synthetic suede on the seats and door panels seem much more appropriate at $33,000 than at $53,000—always a danger when a single model spans a very wide price range. Most of the surfaces are the soft-touch sort, but many don’t LOOK soft. The design of the new interior is overly generic, and fails to continue the bold flavor of the exterior. As in many current Chryslers, the surface detailing is overly plain and seems incomplete. In SRT8 trim, which includes an anthracite headliner, only the instruments’ powder blue lighting (an interesting choice) saves the cabin from having all the cheer of a coal bin. Not a bad interior, just a cold and boring one.

The toned-down exterior pays visibility dividends. With a less radically upright windshield and enlarged windows, it’s much easier to see out. But you’re still clearly not sitting in any old car—the view over the hood still suggests size and muscle. As in the Charger, those under 6-2 will want to raise the front seat. Unlike in the Charger, the instrument panel doesn’t seem ridiculously large even with the seat raised. The front seats are large and comfortable, but aren’t as aggressively bolstered as those in the first-generation SRT8. This last change could be good or bad, depending on how large you are. But all is not optimal for the XXL driver: you won’t find the sort of wide open space that used to typify American iron thanks to the height and breadth of the un-American center console.

The rear seat isn’t as wide as the broad-shouldered exterior suggests, but the cushion is comfortably high and rear legroom, at just over 40 inches, is ample. The center console can swallow a fairly large camera. Truck volume, at 16.3 cubic feet, is merely acceptable for a car of this size, but the rear seat can be folded to expand it. This last feature is ironic: in a reversal of tradition, it’s now as rare in upscale Japanese sedans as it used to be in American ones.

Features and functionality: ergonomics knows no borders

The interior’s aesthetic restraint contributes to easy-to-use controls, which pair large knobs with a fat-finger-friendly touchscreen. A SafetyTec Package includes adaptive cruise, forward collision warning, a blind spot warning system, and cross-path detection. These systems work well enough—if you properly configure them. When the sensitivity of the forward collision warning is set to “far,” it detects an impending collision at any curve in the road where a sign is posted. I also disabled the audible warning for the blind spot system. Prior to these two tweaks the frequency of warning beeps was maddening. Unfortunately, no settings are offered for the seatbelt warning system, which has no grace period. (Buckle up immediately or be scolded.) The SRT8 includes an acceleration timer and G-meter. One suggestion with the latter: round very small numbers to zero. As is, the meter often displays 0.02 or so when heading straight down the road. A final oddity: the “Sport” button that adjusts the transmission and adaptive dampers is on the page for the seat heaters.

Engine: gloriously American

Look, Ma, no cover! For 2012, the SRT “HEMI” V8 engine gets a bump from 6.1 to 6.4 liters and the 5.7’s multi-displacement system. The former change enables a 45 horsepower bump, to 470 at 6,000 rpm. Torque is up 50 pound-feet, to 470 at 4,300 rpm. The 6.4 is vocal when prodded, but not too loud, and its noises are music to any enthusiast’s ears. Despite a fairly high state of tune and pushrod valve actuation, there’s no lumpy idle or mechanical thrashing at high rpm. The regular 300C mill is hardly torque-deficient, with 394 pound-feet at 4,200 rpm. Still, the SRT8’s additional twist is readily evident. In fact, the Goodyear Eagle RS-A 2s on the tested car were not remotely capable of handling all of it. Mash the go pedal at any speed up to 35 and the rear end not only breaks loose but kicks out to the right. On dry pavement. Grippier summer tires are a $150 option. (These were originally installed on the tested car, but were removed for the winter.)

Transmission: too American even if it’s German

Though Detroit’s longstanding ratio deficiency appears to be nearing its end, this end hasn’t come soon enough for the 2012 300C SRT8. The five-speed automatic supplied by former “partner” Daimler is not only short on ratios but slow to react and often bumpy when it finally does so. Hopefully the ZF 8-speed automatic paired with the V6 migrates up the line soon.

Fuel economy: too American

The original SRT8 engine incurred a $2,000 gas guzzler tax. (Unless you got the Dodge Magnum wagon, which was classified as a truck.) One reason: the 6.1 lacked the 5.7’s cylinder deactivation system, whereby the engine runs on only four cylinders while cruising. I suggested that they add it.

With the 6.4, they have. Results are…mixed. The EPA ratings are up from 13 city / 19 highway to 14 / 23. The gas guzzler tax is halved. In suburban driving with a light to moderate foot the trip computer reported between 14 and 16 miles-per-gallon. A heavy foot easily sends the numbers into the single digits.

So, what’s not to like about this improvement (aside from its modest size)? Combine the SRT8’s more vocal character with cylinder deactivation and you get a mildly unpleasant rumble in “eco.” Active noise cancellation would help.

Handling: too American?

The 300C SRT8, with the benefit of a slightly firmer suspension and adaptive dampers, handles better than the Charger R/T. But it’s still not a budget alternative to the $67,000+ Cadillac CTS-V. The Chrysler feels much larger—partly because it is larger (198.6 x 75.0 vs. 191.6 x 72.5 inches, 4,365 vs. 4,255 pounds). But beyond this the Chrysler’s steering doesn’t feel as sharp, as nuanced, or as direct and its body motions aren’t as tightly or as precisely controlled. Pitch the big car into a curve and there’s a touch of slop before the chassis takes a set (even in “Sport”). Once there, the car handles stably and predictably. In a much more fair comparison, the SRT8 rides and handles with considerably more composure than the Hyundai Genesis R-Spec, the only other largish sedan with 400+ horsepower at a similar price.

While the suspension can get jittery over the small stuff, it absorbs larger bumps well and remains far from harsh. Noise levels are fairly low, with the overall ambiance just short of that of a truly premium car. The 300C SRT8 doesn’t make you want to take the long way home, but it doesn’t make every mile of your commute feel like a punishment, either. You’ll feel like a badass while driving this car, without suffering one.

Pricing: appropriately American

The tested $53,435 car had the SafetyTec Package and the 900-watt audio system, each of which bumps the price by $1,995, but not the $1,495 panoramic sunroof (which would have helped lighten up the dark interior). A Cadillac CTS-V equipped like an unoptioned 300C SRT8 is over $18,000 more—hence the unfairness of my comparisons to it. And the Hyundai Genesis R-Spec? It has standard equipment comparable to that of the tested car, plus a sunroof. Add 19-inch tires to the Hyundai, and it lists for $48,750, with no gas guzzler tax. So about $6,200 less than the Chrysler before adjusting for remaining feature differences and about $4,100 less afterwards (based on TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool). Compared to any other 400-plus-horsepower sedan, though, the Chrysler costs far less. An Infiniti M56 is about $15,000 more. Something European? If you have to ask…

Overall: honestly American

A sign of the times: the most American sedan you can buy is assembled in a Canadian plant with a Mexican engine and a German transmission by an Italian-controlled company. So what makes it American? The configuration, the look, the feel. A large, powerful, boldly (yet also tastefully) styled semi-premium car at a relatively low price? You can’t get much more American. The Hyundai Genesis R-Spec has similar specs and a similar price, but it has no identity, neither a heritage nor anything that makes it special. Granted, the 300C SRT8 looks more special than it feels. In normal driving, its drivetrain and chassis provide few clues to the car’s performance potential. But is this a weakness? For me personally, yes. But today’s upscale sedans sacrifice driver involvement in favor of driver isolation. They’re all becoming more American because this is what many people worldwide, not just most Americans, want. At least the Chrysler comes by this character honestly.

Chrysler 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.

I have always rooted for the underdog, except when (for no apparent reason) the guy decides to start punching himself in the face. And so it was with Chrysler’s final Sebring. When the Cirrus burst forth along with the LH sedans almost 20 years ago, they were extremely competitive in style and price. While reliability hasn’t been Chrysler’s forte, you could always justify buying a Cirrus on the basis of America-first-ism, or style, or something. By the time the end drew near for the old Chrysler the Sebring was just a bruised mess from years of self-abuse.

The “New Chrysler” decided to send the Sebring out to pasture, but budgets being what they were, a euthanization just wasn’t in the cards. Instead, much like a freakish face transplant from your favorite B-grade movie, Chrysler spent a few hundred million to nip/tuck the Sebring into the Chrysler 200. I can almost see the mask being peeled off by Sean Connery. Trouble is, as Mythbusters demonstrated , a new face can’t always hide what’s underneath. Michael Karesh’s review back in April piqued my interest in some twisted way and with Chrysler willing to part with the more mass-market 200 “Touring” for a week, a Take Two Review was born.

Outside the 200, the old Sebring’s profile is the only real problem at hand. The tall roofline with somewhat ungainly C-pillar just doesn’t seem to jive with the new curvy schnoz. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder however, and my informal lunch-group-opinion-poll revealed that some liked the 200′s looks, some disliked them, but surprisingly few people loved or hated the form. This lack of polarizing opinion is a shame; some of Chrysler’s best products elicited strangely deep passion because of their daring design. I can’t imagine anyone having the same reaction to a 200. However, I can’t imagine anyone getting hot and heavy over a Camry or Accord either.

Inside our Touring tester (MK got his hands on a Limited), the budget theme is obvious despite the better trappings. How so? It’s all down to the shapes involved. The parts are all at least as snazzy as anyones (possibly excepting Hyundai’s latest high-quality wares), but the shapes constrained by the original Sebring’s silhouette are hard to avoid, like the door handle position, the high dash, etc. If on the other-hand you like the shape of things, nobody can fault the materials and workmanship anymore. Gone is the made-like-Rubbermaid dashboard, gone are the faux-tortoise-shell accents, and thankfully the “fin” that dominated the dashboard has been sliced from exorcised from the design studio. Replacing the strangely shaped, strangely appointed rubbery steering wheel is Chrysler’s new corporate tiller from the 300 and Grand Cherokee. The same soft leather, chunky rim and audio controls hidden on the back of the wheel are also along for the ride. So that’s the interior sorted, while not class leading it is certainly middle-of-the-pack.

What’s the 200 like to drive? Consider this probably the least important aspect of this review. Before you start the flaming in the comment section, hear me out. When was the last time you heard of a mid-size mass-market sedan (read: FWD) being the pinnacle of driving perfection? I’ll tell you: the 12th of Never, that’s when. Out on the road the 200 yet again delivers a middle-of-the-pack experience, which I have to say is exactly what I want from my mid-size people schleper. The former Sebring felt like a wet noodle on the highway, steering the Sebring felt like you were merely suggesting a change in direction rather than commanding it. The 200 on the other hand feels more direct (but till very isolated from the road thanks to the electric power steering) and while unengaging, is entirely acceptable for the segment. The ride is fairly smooth and does a decent job of soaking up the potholes now frequent on California highways and Chrysler did an admirable job of quelling road noise with new sound deadening materials in the 200’s cabin.

When the going gets twisty the 200 starts behaving more like a Toyota Camry than a Mazda 6, but then again that’s about par for this course. Out tester wore some fairly hard rubber in a 225/55R17, this no doubt contributes to the questionable corner holding ability of the 200 when pushed. Some softer rubber would make a marked change in the 200’s character on mountain highways. In that respect, I might even say getting the base LX with the steel rims so you can bling your 200 out Eminem-style aftermarket. Fortunately the suspension tweaks wrought to make the 200 have put the kibosh on wheel hop, so when equipped with the V6, front-wheel-peel extremely easy to achieve and fairly amusing as well.

Speaking of that V6, this is the one area where the 200 goes from average to class leading ( if you check the option box). Call it a desire to attract those with a need for speed (or perhaps more likely that Chrysler couldn’t afford to spend the money de-tuning an engine for 200 duty), the new 3.6L “Pentastar” V6 puts out the same 260 lb-ft of twist as it does in the Grand Cherokee and 300 with only a slight reduction in HP (283 vs 290) probably owing only to exhaust changes. The new V6 is smooth and quiet and a damn sight faster than the rough 2.4L four-banger. The six-pot easily served up a TTAC verified 5.5 second run to 60 time after time. If this wasn’t enough of a reason to make the $1,795 leap (available on Touring and Limited, standard on S), the fuel economy toll will surprise you. The EPA claims the V6 achieves 1 city MPG and 2 highway MPGs lower than the 2.4L four-cylinder with the 6-speed auto. If that were the truth, the extra 110HP you net from the upgrade would already be worth it, however our real-world fuel economy tests indicated the 3.6L V6 matched the 2.4L in our informal city and highway driving runs. Even when you factor in the optimistic trip computer and do the fill-drive-fill method of calculation and my handy OBDII trip computer, we still ended up with a very respectable 31.4 MPG highway average (27.2 overall for the week). (Our real-world numbers with the 200 compare relatively favorably to the Kia Optima’s 22/34 from Kia’s 274HP turbo four.)

While the new V6 is an all-new high for Chrysler, the new 6-speed FWD “auto-stick” transaxle is far from a perfect dance partner. Chrysler says their in-house developed sextuplet cog-swapper: “allows clutchless manual or automatic gear selection for an exciting driving experience”. Problem is: it doesn’t. I don’t really need row-your-own feature in a mass market car, but if a manufacturer feels like including it, I’d like it to actually do my bidding. For some reason, Chrysler chose not to allow downshifts that would cause the tach to rev past some 4,000RPM, and you can’t select 1st gear until you’re practically stopped. At least the 6 speeds seem well suited to the V6 when accelerating at full throttle, at other throttle positions however the transmission is economy oriented with fast and furious up-shifts whether you want it to or not.

Shoppers will find four 200 trim-lines waiting for them at local dealers: LX, Touring, Limited and S. The base LX model gets you four wheels for $19,245 and seems to be on the lineup to give rental agencies something to buy and Chrysler a low price point to advertise. A step up to the Touring gets you the new 6-speed auto (instead of the 4-speed the LX is saddled with), a headliner that’s worth looking at, map lights, auto climate control, auto headlamps, the chunky leather wrapped steering wheel, XM Radio, 6 speakers (instead of the base 4), power driver’s seat, center armrest, and alloy wheels for a somewhat reasonable $2,295 premium over the LX. Stepping up to the Limited adds: fog lamps, remote start, heated seats, Bluetooth, leather trimmed seats and 18-inch wheels for an eye-popping $2405 over the Touring model. Premium 200 shoppers will no doubt select the “200 S” for a $2,295 premium over the Limited to get their hands on bright exhaust tips, black grille, bigger alternator, 6.5” touch-screen radio with Boston Acoustics speakers, a larger alternator, black headliner, faux-suede seat inserts and some snazzy polished/painted wheels.

The astute shoppers will notice Bluetooth is conspicuously absent from Touring and LX models, in an era where even the cheapest car in America (the new Nissan Versa) comes standard with Bluetooth, this should be a standard feature in the 200. I’d gladly give up the snazzier headliner for a Bluetooth speaker phone since most states outlaw hand-held phone calls. You also need to step up the trim ladder (Touring or higher) to get the V6 or the sunroof. Want Nav? You have to climb up to the Limited or S in order to get Chrysler’s integrated touch-screen navigation system by Garmin. Our tester was the Touring model with the V6 upgrade, the touch screen radio and the cold weather group and the 18”wheels bringing final price up to a moderate $23,065. Glancing at the options lists, unless you have a real passion for cowhide, I’d stop at the Touring trim and get an aftermarket Nav/Radio. This is the other area where the 200 shines: price. As long as Chrysler keeps the stickers low, shoppers might give them another chance.

At the end of the day Chrysler has managed to do a bit more than put lipstick on the pig, they changed enough of what made the old Sebring terrible making the 200 a decent competitor for the Altima or Malibu, in other words, strongly middle-of-the-pack. Yet, is this enough? Tell us ino the comment section below. Strong initial sales backed by a heavy advertising campaign may indicate people are willing to give the mid-size Detroit scamp a second chance, but what about that competition? This is a crowded segment, and by my estimation there are 13 competitors to the 200 sedan in the form of the Accord, Altima, Camry, Fusion, Sonata, Malibu, Passat, Optima, Galant, Legacy, Mazda 6, Regal, and even the 200’s alter ego the Avenger. Supposedly Chrysler’s warranty claims are down, and their long powertrain warranty is certainly enticing, but I can’t help thinking if I was shopping I would end up at the Hyundai dealer in the end. Chrysler has created a solid contender in this segment, but for me, the high-output V6 just isn’t enough of a draw to keep me from going Korean. How about you?

Chrysler provided the vehicle for our review, insurance and one tank of gas.

Specifications as tested
0-30: 2.26 Seconds
0-60: 5.5 Seconds
¼ Mile: 14 Seconds @ 102MPH
Average Fuel Economy: 27.2
Miles Driven: 825

I have had a love affair with Chrysler that defies logic for years. Back in 1988 my parents had one of the [then] new Chrysler minivans. (Yes, I know a love affair that starts with a minivan has to be unhealthy.) When it came time for me to buy my first car, I had my eye on a very lightly used  1997 Eagle Vision TSi, then came a brand new 2000 Chrysler LHS, the very pinnacle of the Iacocca years in many ways.Large, FWD, competitive. Then Mercedes came on the scene promising to “synergize” the product development and lineup. The plan sounded good and had a promising start with the Chrysler Pacifica and the Chrysler 300 HEMI C convertible concept which looked so hot I wanted to have ovaries implanted so I could carry its children. Ultimately however the production 300 turned out to be one of the bigger disappointments due to its plastactular interior. Since then, Chrysler had been trying to see how many vehicles can be built from the Chrysler 300. Chrysler soon created the EU-only Chrysler 300 wagon, Dodge Magnum, Dodge Charger and Dodge Challenger to join the 300 sedan. Problem was; there was only enough cash around for a few nice interiors or half a dozen chintzy boxes. Guess which Chrysler chose?

When the Dodge Charger became available in the press fleet, Michael Karesh and I decided to try one out, read his take here. Prior to its arrival I told myself I needed to keep my expectations suitably low, the last rental Dodge Magnum I drove made me want to put my eyes out. Every car buff has heard about the dreadful interiors coming out of Auburn Hills for the past few years, so I won’t dwell on them. Suffice it to say when the Dodge arrived I told myself as I was signing the paperwork “as long as the interior doesn’t look like a Rubbermaid tub I’ll be happy.” Not only were my expectations exceeded, but they were exceeded by a margin I didn’t think Chrysler was capable of anymore.  One slip behind the wheel and I was greeted by squishy plastics, suitably retro gauges, a leather wrapped steering wheel and a ginormous nav screen.

The only negative I found upon first inspection of the new interior was the large metallic/plastic/what-the-heck-is-that?? trim that dominates the driver’s side of the dash. I appreciate the ­­­­­ retro vibe, but the fit and finish just didn’t seem up to the rest of the interior, which is a pity as other than that the interior is finally, and firmly, class competitive. With every step forward must come a bean counter, and that guy was allowed to ditch the Mercedes style keyfob for something that likely comes with a $2,500 Tata Nano. For shame. At least if you opt for keyless go, nobody ever has to see it except you and the lining in your pocket.

Back on the outside, the familiar brash form of the previous Charger is still there but a tad softer. The Charger still screams “American performance”. The grill is suitably brash and the “Toxic Orange” paint our press loaner arrived in would be perfect in a modern day remake of the Dukes of Hazard. The result is a polarizing one; passengers either loved or hated the look, and that’s important for Dodge’s future: many of their best products in the past have elicited similar reactions from shoppers and I hope that never changes.

One push of the start button and the Charger R/T’s main selling point roars to life: the 5.7L HEMI. This V8 beast cranks out 370 ponies and 395 ft-lbs of twist in a segment where a 268 HP Toyota Avalon is considered near the top of the pack. This feature alone sets the tone for the Charger experience like no other. Balancing out those extra ponies is about 700 extra pounds vs the Avalon. Despite the weight difference, our 4,319lb bright orange tester ran to 60 in 5.4 seconds, considerably faster than the 6.2 seconds we managed in the Toyota Avalon we tested last year. Since Chrysler has not fitted the Charger with a fun-sapping brake/accelerator interlock, burnouts are both easy and deliciously fun.

Balancing out the Delta-rocket style thrust the 5.7V Hemi produces are lackluster seats, hard and narrow rubber on the stock wheels and some unexciting fuel economy. The front seats offer no lateral support what-so-ever as the 2011 R/T’s “Road & Track” package no longer includes the SRT seats like the 2010 package did. The stock tires and wheels which are both narrow and lack grip add insult to the slip-and-slide. Luckily the aftermarket has many a solution for the rubber/wheel issue but the seat upgrade will set you back some serious cash, and keep in mind that modern seats have occupant sensors for the airbag system. It’s a shame there is seemingly no factory solution for this problem. Perhaps less of an issue for buyers is the 5.7L HEMI’s fuel economy. Rated at 16/25, our real world economy varied a great deal more than the Avalon. On a flat highway we averaged 27MPG for a 40 mile journey at 65MPH, but my daily commute up and over the Santa Cruz Mountains pushed our 750-mile average down to 18.9MPG, a commute on which the Avalon had scored a 22MPG average.

As you can imagine with such a larger car, headroom is excellent both front and rear. A lunch time trip with five healthy Americans proved as easy and as comfortable as you can find this side of a Mercedes S-Class. In a car this big, you’d expect a big booty, but the smallish trunk lid foreshadows the decidedly mid-size trunk which at 15.4 cu-ft is 7 percent smaller than a Ford Fusion’s cargo spot and only 15 percent bigger than that of the compact Ford Focus. In general, the full-size car label no longer guarantees large luggage capacity. So on paper, the Charger’s smallish trunk is fairly competitive with the likes of the Toyota Avalon (14.4) and Hyundai Genesis (15.9). Compared to the other ‘mericans, the Buick Lucerne boasts 17 cu-ft, and the Ford Taurus’s ginormous booty will schlep 25 percent more warehouse store bagels in a 20.1 cu-ft trunk. On the flip side, the rear seats fold down to reveal a large pass-thru and the wide and fairly flat rear seats make three baby seats across a tight but entirely doable adventure.

For the last decade or so, Chrysler had been well behind the pack when it came to electronic gadgets and decent navigation systems. Fortunately as we have seen in the new Journey, the tide has finally changed. Even the base Charger SE receives Chrysler’s new uConnect 4.3 system which grafts a 4.3-inch touch-screen LCD to the basic radio features.

The base system allows easier browsing of iPods and USB devices than competitor’s systems without a full featured LCD like Lucerne and Avalon. Anyone stepping up from the SE model (which will be most buyers) will be treated to the uConnect 8.4 system (with an 8.4-inch touch-screen LCD) with or without navigation. Chrysler decided to eschew button proliferation making functions like heated seat and steering wheel controls available only within the uConnect interface. The result is a clean dash that is easy to navigate.

Speaking of that 8.4-inch screen, it’s another completely unexpected feature of the new Charger. At 8.4-inches, the screen is large by any measure and includes nice touches like an oleophobic coating so your fingerprints aren’t visible and a strong backlight making the system very readable even in bright sunlight. The system’s graphics are far more visually pleasing to my eye than the new Ford My Touch system, and unlike MyTouch, the system was incredibly responsive and it never crashed. Menus are laid out fairly logically and the available nav system is as easy to use as any hand-held Garmin. This is entirely because uConnect uses an integrated Garmin system for navigation. Unfortunately, neither Chrysler nor Garmin seems to have made voice commands available for entering a destination, leaving you to risk distraction while manually entering the address on-screen. Also missing in uConnect is voice command of your USB music device or iPod ala Ford Sync and My Touch. Ford’s My Touch may be slow and crash frequently, but its functionality has become the bar by which other systems are measured. In this light, uConnect falls short. To be fair, BMW’s iDrive, Audi’s MMI, and Mercedes’ COMMAND (which cost significantly more) also fall short of the MyTouch system in terms of access to your tunes. My local dealer hasn’t been told what map updates will be like, hopefully they will be easy and cheap like the rest of the Garmin lineup. Checkout our YouTube overview to see uConnect in action:

Speaking of that iPod integration, the system refused to recognize playlists on my iPhone 4, albums on my iPod classic, and it occasionally refused to connect to my 1^st generation USB iPod. I am told that Chrysler is working on the software bug but I haven’t heard of any final fixes as of June 2011.

Let’s talk value. With a starting MSRP of $30,395 for the Charger R/T (minus the inevitable cash on the hood), the Charger is the cheapest V8 sedan in America. With the Mustang GT starting only a grand less, depending on the deal you work, the Charger could just be the cheapest new car in America with a V8, period. The green in the crowd will of course deride the gas guzzling nature of high cylinder counts, but I think the cheap V8 theme is something Chrysler should hang onto.

How does the competition stack up? Well, if this was 1971 instead of 2011, there would be more competition in the full-size RWD non-luxury sedan segment. With the demise of Pontiac and the Holden derived G8, the Hyundai Genesis is the only non-Chrysler RWD product in this price range and I’m not sure Charger shoppers are cross-shopping that wannabe-Lexus. Our R/T tester rang in at $38,110 essentially fully loaded with radar cruise control, heated steering wheel, navigation and backup camera. This is about $5,000 off the Genesis’ $43,000 single flavor pricing. Admittedly, the Genesis delivers the promise of greater reliability and a more luxurious interior, but I’d still call the Charger a name-defying good deal.

On the FWD front, we have the V8 Lucerne Super for $42,220. I need say nothing more about the Buick other than: yes, it is your father’s FWD V8 Buick. From the land of the rising sun we have the Toyota Avalon with an interior that is more inviting and an exterior style that is far from polarizing. If you want the car that checks all your boxes but elicits little passion, the Avalon is the perfect $38,645 driveway accessory.

Perhaps the most appropriate competition for the Charger, and the biggest impediment to its success can be found in the Ford Taurus and the Charger’s own cousin, the Chrysler 300C. The 300C is to my eye the better looking vehicle inside and out and in my informal cost comparison is essentially the same price at $38,170 (so much for Chrysler clawing their way up-market). Compared to the Taurus SHO however (starting price of $38,155 and $43,900 when equipped comparably to the AWD version of our Charger R/T tester at $39,328), the Charger lacks the full-size cargo capacity, bevy of electronic doo-dads like massaging seats, voice command of most features and the more luxurious interior of the Ford. Ford’s EcoBoost V6 may also be the superior engine with its broad power band capable of matching our observed 5.5 second run to 60 in the Charger, but it lacks that sultry V8 burble. At the end of the day, while I would probably pay the extra five-grand to step into the SHO, I have to admit a large, soft, RWD sedan is all kinds of fun, and for that reason alone the Charger might finally make sense.

Working with limited funds and even more limited time, Chrysler couldn’t change the sheetmetal. So the 200’s proportions are every bit as frumpy as the Sebring’s were. Given this constraint, the improvements wrought with new wheels, light assemblies, fascias, and upscale trim are admirable. Just not sufficient (though the rear three-quarters view isn’t bad). Dark colors like the metallic black on the tested car do at least de-emphasize the odd C-pillar. Granted, the Camry, Accord, and Fusion are hardly beauties, but their proportions (which my eye tends to focus on) are less ungainly. The Regal is much more handsome (as is the Chevrolet Malibu).

Chrysler was able to more substantially revise the Sebring’s interior, and the 200’s is more attractive than those in the Camry, Accord, and Fusion. The sedan’s cleanly-styled instrument panel, many padded surfaces, and classy piano black trim with chrome highlights suggest that it should be considered a premium car. But upon closer inspection the upscale appearance seems skin deep and concentrated in the instrument panel. The door panels are extensively padded but their armrests, which give a bit when employed to pull the door closed, feel as well as appear tacked on.

The minor controls are very similar to those in the Sebring and don’t look or feel like those in a premium car. There are good reasons why the Regal costs about $4,000 more (though the Suzuki Kizashi comes close to the Regal while being priced about $1,000 above the 200). The materials in major direct competitors tend to be cheaper, and look it, but they are assembled at least as well. The Hyundai Sonata might pose the largest challenge by combining style with above-average materials and workmanship.

The Chrysler 200’s minimally bolstered seats, though certainly more comfortable than the Sebring’s hard slabs, recall domestic iron from years past. Though the buckets are soft, you still sit on them rather than in them. The thick A-pillars, tall instrument panel, and overly distant windshield conspire with these seats to thwart any meaningful connection with the car. The side windows are more expansive, but this largely serves to highlight that the view forward is not. In back there’s a healthy amount of legroom, but as in the Sebring (and many competitors) the cushion isn’t high enough off the floor to provide thigh support.

With 283 horsepower at 6,400 RPM and 260 foot-pounds at 4,400 RPM, the all-new 3.6-liter DOHC V6 out-specs all others in the segment. Hitched to Chrysler’s homegrown six-speed automatic (neither the smoothest nor the smartest) it moves the car quickly and sounds good in the process while earning EPA ratings of 19 / 29. But the chassis isn’t a match for the V6’s power. There’s some torque steer under hard acceleration, but the real problem is posed by curves. In casual driving the 200 feels okay, but even a moderately aggressive turn of the steering wheel uncovers a fair amount of lean, early onset understeer, and insufficient damping. The harder you push the 200 the sloppier both the suspension and the steering feel. Some cars ask to be driven aggressively. Others are up to the challenge, though they don’t ask for it. The 200 isn’t up to the challenge. Some Toyotas suffer from a similar powertrain-chassis mismatch, but this doesn’t make it right. The Regal has the opposite problem: well-tuned chassis, merely adequate engine. On a curvy road this is the better problem to have.

In his Chrysler Town & Country review, Jack Baruth noted that he was easily able to keep up with a 200 driven by another journalist. No doubt the other journalist lacked Jack’s mad driving skillz, but it also happens that the minivan steers and handles much better than the sedan. My earlier suspicion that Chrysler cribbed from VW’s work for the Routan? Consider it intensified.

The 200 does ride better than it handles, and better than the Sebring. For people who drive like grandmas (perhaps because they are grandmas) its chassis limitations won’t be much of an issue. The car doesn’t seem as slick and eerily silent at low speeds as a Toyota, but it’s smoother and quieter than an Accord or Fusion. Here as well the Sonata poses a tough challenge. Some competitors handle better, others ride better, but the Sonata Limited’s balance between the two might be the best among the segment’s major players. Unfortunately, none are outstanding driver’s cars.

One thing the Chrysler 200 definitely has going for it: a low price. With the V6, leather, sunroof (not on the tested car), nav, and premium audio it lists for $28,505. A comparably equipped Toyota Camry XLE lists for $3,700 more, and adjusting for remaining feature differences using TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool narrows the gap by only about $300. A loaded Ford Fusion Sport is about $2,500 more even after a $1,600 adjustment in its favor for a power passenger seat, SYNC, a rearview monitor, and various other safety features not available on the Chrysler. Even a Sonata Limited 2.0T with nav is about $1,600 more.

Its strong new V6 notwithstanding, the Chrysler 200 isn’t remotely a driver’s car. Unlike the revised minivans, the revised sedan doesn’t contain any pleasant surprises. The bits you see, most notably the much-improved interior styling, are as good as it gets. The 200’s refinement, solidity, and chassis tuning mark it as, at best, an average member of the mainstream midsize sedan class rather than the next one up. To their credit, Sergio’s bunch aren’t deluding themselves about how much they were able to achieve. An all-new Fiat-based midsize sedan is only a couple of years away. In the meantime, they’ve priced the 200 substantially lower than its major competitors, making it a good value for those who don’t mind its exterior styling and who aren’t aiming to carve any corners.

Brad Marshall of Suburban Chrysler in Novi, MI, provided the car. Brad can be reached at 248-427-7721.

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

Behold: the thirty-seven-thousand-dollar minivan. Just to put that in perspective, I’m going to list some of the other whips you could roll (yo) for that kind of money: Infiniti G37. Audi A4. BMW 328i. Those are “entry-luxury” automobiles, and they cost “entry-luxury” money. You could buy two basic Japanese sedans for this kind of scratch.

We’re all rich on the Internet, and we all pay cash for everything, and we all turn up our nose at minor sums like thirty-seven thousand dollars, right? In the real world, however, it’s real money. Figure seven-fifty a month in the typical five-year finance deal. It’s hard to believe that the typical family has the ability to make a payment like that in this economy.

Chrysler states that the Town & Country will now “live” in the $30K-and-up price range. No more budget minivans. If you want one of those, go see your Dodge dealer. The product, they say, justifies the price. Let’s figure out if they’re correct.

Many of the press testers on hand for the Town & Country’s Napa Valley launch event were gloss black, and it’s easy to see why. If there is really such a thing as a “premium minivan”, a black-and-chrome Chrysler is probably it. The exterior has been revised with a heavy dose of automotive jewelry, from the intricate headlights to the matte-finish silver-wing logo adorning the rear liftgate. There’s more visual distance between the T&C and its Caravan sibling than ever before, and both models benefit as a result. If anything, the upscale treatment is too successful; parents might be concerned about what the van will look like with a few kid-related dings and scratches.

Inside, there’s that must-have accessory for the new decade: the one-piece dashboard cap. It wasn’t until I rode back to the airport in a 2009-model T&C that I realized just how much better the new interior is. It’s driver-focused, it’s personal, it’s surprisingly intimate in dark colors, and it’s far more upscale than, say, the Playskool-button Sienna will ever be. The previous van’s “Stow-n-Go” seating came in for a fair amount of (justified) criticism, so we now have “Super Stow-n-Go”, which is much closer to being a full-sized seat. A “private-jet” captain’s chair arrangement is also available, and unless you absolutely require the occasional availability of a flat load floor, I strongly suggest you select it.

The new instruments, HVAC, and selection of sound systems are all vastly better than before… and yes, they have an upscale appearance. As before, the “uConnect” system runs a distant second to Ford’s SYNC, not to mention the myFordTouch, but if your current frame of reference is the navigation system in a Sienna or Odyssey you are likely to think you’ve accidentally boarded the battlestar Galactica. The air vents are controlled by chrome rollers with rubber inlays, the buttons all operate with a definitive ‘click’, and the metal-look interior items are real metal.

A brief conversation with the interior-design team provided some insight into the hyper-improvement wrought for 2011. They know that Chrysler’s had some crap materials inside their cars. They didn’t like it any more than you did. They were working with Daimler’s accountants and being forced to cut every possible penny out of the cars. Cerberus freed them from that yoke and now we are seeing the frankly impressive results. It’s an awfully facile explanation, but I’m willing to believe.

Fate blessed me with an exceptional “media partner” for this event, a fellow named Jeff Yip who was apparently born without fear and who was as interested as I was in this minivan’s dynamic capabilities. The spec sheet offered promise: the trio of disappointing V-6 engines from last year has been banished and now the impressive Pentastar twists through a six-speed automatic. It’s possible to manipulate the side-to-side manual-shift function with the fingers of one’s right hand while keeping the palm on the wheel — very WRC, if you ask me. Several years ago, Grassroots Motorsports showed that a Honda Odyssey could keep up with an E-Type Jag around an autocross course. What could the upscale minivan do?

Even though I handicapped myself a bit by pulling off, standing on the side of the road, waiting until some angry-faced journosaur squealed by in a V-6 Chrysler 200, counting to sixty, and then getting in the van to give chase, we quickly tired of running down our fellow writers on their “fast road drives”. Luckily we found a nutcase in an old 528e, complete with a bungee-corded animal cage in the trunk, and this guy was on it. He drove a nearly perfect racing line in every turn and frequently exited the corner with some slip angle in the rear, running into the triple digits on the straights.

The big Chrysler could have murdered him in a straight line — this is a more than acceptably fast van — so we hung back and instead worked the corners. How pleasant to find that the brakes were mostly up to snuff, the transmission shifted smoothly under manual control, and that the steering was downright decent. I remember a color mag crowing many years ago about the fact that the C4 Corvette could more than double the recommended corner speeds on back roads… well, nowadays you can do it in a seven-passenger breadbox. There’s no pitching or rolling to cause nausea, just a buttoned-down suspension with better rebound control than many Audis have. Very few drivers — and I mean very few — really want to go faster on a curvy road than the T&C can take them. I’m considering taking one to the infamous “Tail of the Dragon” and forcing sportbikers to give me the wave past.

Of course, ninety-nine percent of Chrysler’s customers won’t care how fast this minivan can chew up a back road, and many of them won’t even be particularly interested in one-piece dashboards or sound-system “theater imaging”. Price, reliability, resale value, and capability are the true benchmarks in this segment, and although the T&C excels in the fourth category, the first three are up for debate. I’ll leave the heavy statistical lifting to Mr. Karesh, but my offhand analysis is that the T&C has, shall we say, premium pricing compared to the market-leading Odyssey and Sienna. The Chrysler people freely admit that there isn’t much margin in these revised vans for incentives. They’re hoping that the market will pay more money for a better van. I don’t know if they’re right, but to misquote famous van driver E. Hemingway, it’s certainly pretty to think so.

The look on my passenger’s face says it all. I’ve just late-braked a fully-prepped BMW M3 on Hoosier race tires and we are about to straight-line the infamous “Climbing Esses” at VIR. At well over one hundred and twenty miles per hour. Listen to the photo. Put your ear up to it. You can hear my passenger, a student of mine who wanted to see “the fast way around”, gritting her teeth. You can hear the 6.1-liter HEMI catapulting us down the track at full throttle, a Sprint Cup racer stuffed beneath a Deep Sea Blue bonnet. And, if you listen very carefully, I think you can hear Sara Watkins, who is to me what Mike Rowe is to “The Booth Babe”, singing “Lord Won’t You Help Me.”

The boss man emeritus, one R. Farago, reviewed the 300C SRT-8 more than five years ago. Has the car changed? Not much. So why review it again? It’s simple. The fact that Robert’s article has a whopping three comments means you probably didn’t see it. And, of course, as the self-appointed bad guy in TTAC’s pro-wrestling pantheon, it seemed appropriate that I would use the big Chrysler to ruin the day of some club racers. Here’s how it went.

This was an unusual weekend for me in that I had an all-female student crew. The lady pictured above would be worth a story on her own. A retired servicewoman in her late forties, bought a Mini Cooper (non-S) a few years back and went on a few “Tail of the Dragon” drives. That didn’t satisfy her. Now she’s on-track, absolutely kicking ass in her little Cooper and regularly forcing young men in Vettes to give her the point-by. If she had an M3, she’d be the fastest Intermediate driver in nearly any club.

My other student was a former SCCA National Tour winner, a respected autocrosser who agreed to work with me on a couple of articles about the opportunities for women interested in motorsports. I expected her to take to VIR like a duck to water and was not disappointed. I also rather hoped she’d have some room for me in her suite at the VIR Lodge, and I was bitterly disappointed. I used all my traditional never-fail seduction stories on her — “My Fearless, Yet Stylish, Brushes With Death”, “I’m Lonely For My Distant Son And Just Don’t Want To Be Alone”, and “Give Me Your Opinion Of This Sportcoat Fabric” — but I still ended up sleeping in the car, as seen here:

No wonder, then, that when the second day of the event rolled around I was ready to wreak my vengeance on everybody unlucky enough to be in front of the Chrysler’s big black grille. In my test of the Challenger R/T I disabused TTAC’s readers of that stupid old Internet myth that “a Miata would totally dominate a fat-ass American musclecar on the track”. Compared to that R/T, the 300C SRT-8 has fifty more horsepower and much better brakes. Chrysler’s “Brembo package” is much better than Ford’s, and it holds up much better under the rigors of racetrack use. It’s still not “enough” brake — I personally think the Corvette ZR-1 has about “enough” brake — but it means you can run hard for ten laps at a time if you’re willing to manage pad temperature a bit.

We were scheduled to run the VIR Grand East course, which adds the twisty, elevation-change-filled “Patriot Course” to the “Full” course. I figured it meant that I’d spend the entire Patriot section holding-off smaller cars before blasting away from them down the “Roller Coaster” to the front straight. That wasn’t quite right. Hammering down the truncated back straight, I approached a group of Spec Miata racers practicing for the upcoming NASA event. This being the “instructor” group, no point-by was required, so I asked for none. Instead, I used the big HEMI to torque my way to the door of the last car and then stood on the ABS going into the corner. Hello, pass one. Reaching over to stab the ESP off, I used wheelspin on exit to catapult up to the next Miata. We went side-by-side over the next elevation change and then I waited him out on the brake. Oh no! A twisty section. Now I can’t shake the Miata behind and I can’t catch the one ahead. Oh, wait. I could shortcut that inside a bit. ESP back on and I put two wheels on the dirt, letting the traction control manage me past. Two more colorful Mazdas heading the group, taking the outside line to the Roller Coaster. ESP off. Full throttle. Buh. Freakin’. Bye. Never saw those cars again, although I think the organizers of the trackday heard from them in the “Complaints” section of the feedback form.

That’s the SRT-8′s “g-meter” for that session. It doesn’t go past .99, so rest assured that I was absolutely hammering this thing through the Patriot section. How does a car this big get grip like this from 20″ tires? Simple. The chassis is simply that good and that predictable. No, it can’t live with a BMW or Porsche for outright grip, but you are free to sit right at the limit of the tires and trust the Chrysler’s basic nose-first stability to save the day. The suspension can straight-line every curb and the steering gives some decent enough feedback. I hate to say it, but to some degree this car is more fun to drive fast than the Cadillac CTS-V is. I certainly prefer the HEMI’s character to that of the LS-whatever. More importantly, there’s clearly some room in the chassis for more power, which I would expect to see in the 2011 version.

I ended up driving this car over 2600 miles during my week with it, and I just about fell in love with the 300′s big-hearted spirit during that time. That doesn’t mean there aren’t some genuine complaints to be made. This car costs $49,195 and it has the interior of a $23,000 Hertz Charger. The stereo is monstrous but the iPod integration can’t touch SYNC. It’s not as roomy as it should be, particularly in back. You could buy a new E-class for this money, although the E-class you could buy wouldn’t touch this Chrysler on the road. You could also buy a Hyundai Genesis 4.6, if you want to make some kind of point. I’m not sure the Genesis really does much better in the interior-feel department, and it’s gutless compared to the Chrysler. Still, we are talking fifty grand here. Approach with fiscal caution.

There’s a looooong two-lane drive out of VIR for us headed towards Ohio. It’s maybe 100 miles of twisty roads and blind hills. And wouldn’t you know it, somebody pulled out in front of me right at the beginning…

…so I had to follow them all the way. Oh, who am I kidding? I was past that Bonnie before the end of the next turn. On the back roads, this 300C is even more of a monster than it is on the racetrack. In a world without speed limits or sensible driving standards, I could have averaged eighty-one miles per hour over the next sixty miles of that road. Since we don’t live in that world, I chose to listen to Miss Watkins on the excellent Kicker sound system.

This is now an old car, and it’s partially based on an even older one. If you’re a patient person, wait for the 2011 “LY” model. If you distrust the idea of a big V-8 and an old five-speed automatic, you can pay about the same real-world money for that nice new STi. If you just want the most kickass new sedan fifty grand can buy, call up Chrysler and ask if you can buy this one.

In the autumn of 2003, DaimlerChrysler introduced their first co-developed product: a “segment buster” called the Chrysler Pacifica. According to the official spin, the Pacifica married a minivan’s utility with an SUV’s machismo. In reality, the Pacifica was a six-seat station wagon on stilts, closest in concept to Audi’s slow-selling Allroad Quattro. While the Allroad pulled a Hasselhoff (more popular in Germany than its intended market), the Pacifica was born under a bad sign, raised with great expectations and expired stateside without fanfare or corporate hand-wringing. RIP Pacifica or good riddance to bad rubbish?

In many ways, the Pacifica was neither fish nor foul, starting with the proportions. It was taller than a car but lower than most SUVs. It had an exceptionally wide body and stretched nearly as long as Chrysler’s Town and Country minivan. But is still looked like what it was: a big-assed station wagon.

Chrysler designers used clever styling tricks to hide its heft. For example, the body sported multiple crease marks, near the window line, and again near the rocker panel. Like vertical stripes on clothing, the lines make the overall design seem longer and leaner. From the rear end, the Pacifica’s quarter panels taper dramatically inward from the rear wheels, thereby creating a thinner look. And the use of black molding on the roof give the vehicle the appearance of a sleek profile. The result was extremely color sensitive; dressed in white, you expected to see Captain Ahab pinned to the roof.

In keeping with Motown traditions, the first Pacificas hit dealer showrooms fully-loaded: all wheel-drive, load-leveling suspension, leather upholstery, heated first and second-row seats, sunroof, power liftgate, navigation (beautifully situated directly in front of the driver), dual zone climate control, DVD entertainment system and Sirius satellite radio. While the car’s upscale pretensions were obvious from the git-go, potential customers couldn’t see the price point. Initial Pacificas cost north of $35K. Even worse, the CUV’s build quality didn’t match the model’s “near luxury” aspirations. In-dash rattles, plastic panels that fell off, unpainted gas caps—the Pacifica (along with the new Crossfire Sports Car) was ground zero for dreams of Mercedes quality combined with Chrysler style.

Speaking of which, the Pacifica’s interior packaging sucked. The first two rows were spacious enough for four occupants, but the third row was suitable only for small, nimble, unloved children. When deployed, row three also left very little room for cargo, although it did fold flat when not in use. The Chrysler Pacifica posed the same question that the CUV genre still asks today: what IS the point? While modern CUVs answer with SUV-lite styling, the Pacifica looked like what it was: an expensive, big-assed station wagon.

Early Pacificas featured a mediocre engine (250hp 3.5-liter V6) and gear-challenged (four speed) transmission in a price bracket known for potent and refined powertrains. Thanks to the DaimlerChrysler’s vehicle’s heft and the ancient autobox, the Pacifica was both slow AND thirsty. The EPA rated its fuel economy at a less than desirable 15/20 mpg.

For the 2005 model year, Chrysler rectified the pricing problem (claiming it was their plan all along). The LX trim came equipped as a five-seater. In fact, the vehicle was thoroughly de-contented, including some very questionable seat materials, which undermined any chance of upmarket cachet. And did nothing much for sales.

DaimlerChrysler had a real dog on their hands. Not only did the vehicle fail to sell well, the company lost money on every one. The Pacifica sat on a modified minivan platform, but it didn’t share any interior furnishings with any other Chrysler, Dodge or Jeep product. The window switches, power seat controls (a nod to Daimler), audio and video entertainment options, seats, center console and the instrument panel weren’t interchangeable with any other vehicle.

Adding insult to injury, the Pacifica quickly developed a reputation for horrendous reliability. Straight out of the box, early models suffered from engine problems, transmission woes and the aforementioned quality control issues. Reflecting the analysis paralysis and cultural warfare bedeviling Auburn Hills, Chrysler failed to handle the Pacifica’s defects with speed or decisiveness. While some of early problems were eventually ironed-out, electrical gremlins plagued the Pacifica throughout its entire production cycle.

In sum, the Pacifica was one of the worst new car introductions in Chrysler’s history, with little or no advanced notice, hardly any pre-production publicity, and very little dealer training.

Since the Pacifica’s introduction, the CUV genre has exploded. Buyers looking for crossovers can choose from a wide range of vehicles that look like SUVs, burn gas like SUVs, won’t go off-road or tow like SUVs, and can’t carry more than five adults in comfort. But none of them—not one—looks like a bloated station wagon. There are brand new 2008 Pacificas sitting on ChryslerFiat dealers’ lots. Which tells you just about everything you need to know about the late, not-great Chrysler Pacifica.

Three’s a crowd: an odd grouping where someone or something is always going to stick out. Think Holy Ghost. The third wheel. The Sesame Street “which one of these is not the same as the others” object. In our Yank Tank match-up, the Lincoln Town Car fell by the wayside, pilloried for its utter lack of anythingness. Which is also, strangely enough, it’s strength. We’ll get to the Cadillac DTS tomorrow. But as some of our Best and Brightest have already pointed out, the Chrysler 300C is the one that doesn’t fit.

In the four years since its introduction, the 300C has not lost is capacity to impress. The design marks the utter destruction of Chrysler’s cab forward style. And why not? The “Baby Bentley”-meets-gangster-chic look puts all the right bulges in all the right places. Admittedly, the 300C’s rear end is a hair awkward. But the 300C’s dual exhaust pipes ensure that it’s still attractive, in an Ugly Betty kind of way. And seen from any 3/4 angle, the American barge still stirs something primal inside. And why not? Big, bling and brash. Who loves ya baby?

Canadian designer Ralph Gilles’ moment in the sun remains a shining beacon of American sedanery. From its wannabe British grill to the bad ass 20″ rims, this Chrysler exudes the same sort of feel on European roads as a Harley. Everything on the outside of the 300C works, from the chrome mirrors to the low greenhouse and the winged Chrysler badge. But aye, there’s the rub. For this German-American hybrid beauty is but skin deep.

As anyone who’s ever driven a post-Daimler Chrysler is painfully aware, the once and future automaker’s cabins have been the laughing stock of the big 3, 2.8, 2.5, 2.1, 1.5 ever since they were purchased by the Germans. Somehow, in a world where continual progress is lauded and advancement is seen as the only way to compete, Chrysler managed to do the unthinkable and turn the interior quality clock backwards. I hate to beat a dead horse, but honestly, bludgeoning Mr. Ed in the back seat of a 300 would probably improve the scenery. The rear seats look and feel Police Cruiser chic—although the gun slit windows afford the perps/passengers primo privacy.

While none of our troika can hold an electronic candle to the toys provided by their German and Japanese competition, the Yank tank gadget crown must be awarded at some point. And here we are: the 300C bests the DTS and the Town Car by a wide margin—if you’re willing to pay the price of depreciation. Sorry, admission. Options include AWD, LIDAR cruise control, nav system, remote start, Sirius Backseat TV, AutoConnect Web and auto-dimming headlamps. After viewing the feature list, I’m half surprised Billy Mays isn’t a Chrysler spokesperson. [ED: You got that right.]

If there’s one thing that pre-Fiat Chrysler will be remembered for, it’s the rebirth of the Hemi. Okay, so it’s not a “true” hemi. Doesn’t matter. The 5.7L lump of iron under the 300C’s hood cranks out the best numbers in our Yank tank trio: 360hp and 390 lb·ft of torque. A Mercedes five-speed automatic mates the brawny V8 to the rear wheels. It’s the weakest link: the cog swapper can handle the 300C’s power and is fairly smooth, but the reliability stats give pause. Would a bullet-proof ZF six-speed really have been that much more expensive?

Driving the 300C evokes mixed emotions. It performs like a previous generation Mercedes E-Class on steroids—which it isn’t, really. The chassis is plenty stiff. The suspension’s pliant yet capable. Overall, the big ass barge is delightfully “chuckable.” Crank the wheel and the car responds with uncanny aplomb. Get a little too feisty and the electro-nanny responds with German efficiency (and American leniency). While not quite boaty nor hard, the 300C’s ride quality walks the sober fine line a luxury sedan should.

Slowly but surely, Chrysler has managed to bring one vehicle into the 21st century. Aesthetically. Mechanically. Only they forgot to do something—anything—with the interior. When you combine the dreadful interior with the sobering reality that the 300C looks exactly like the 190hp stripper rental version, a floaty drifty pig of an automobile with no reason to live, you start to ask the inevitable question: am I driving a gussied-up rental? Or is Dollar Rent-A-Car offering a bargain basement luxury car?

The masses have spoken with their wallets. All the performance and gadgets just can’t trump the damage done to the Chrysler brand in general, and the 300′s rep in specific. If the fleet models had never existed . . . If Chrysler had figured-out a way to build an interior to rival well, anyone . . . Instead here we have the Terry Malloy of Yank tanks.

Remember that night in the Garden you came down to my dressing room and you said, “Kid, this ain’t your night. We’re going for the price on Wilson.” You remember that? “This ain’t your night”! My night! I coulda taken Wilson apart! So what happens? He gets the title shot outdoors on the ballpark and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palooka-ville! You was my brother, Charley, you shoulda looked out for me a little bit. You shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so I wouldn’t have to take them dives for the short-end money.

Last October, I wrote a series of articles comparing economical family sedans from the Land of the Rising Sun. Numerous readers challenged me to perform a similar comparison of similar cars from American manufacturers. Define “American.” [ED: just step back from the can of worms and walk away.] This time ’round, I’ve tested the Ford Fusion S, Chevrolet Malibu LS, and Chrysler Sebring LX, with automatic transmissions and common, entry level features. While I anguished to find positive or negative attributes that would distinguish one Japanese car from another, evaluating the relative virtue of the American’s was a slam dunk piece of cake. In distant third place: the Chrysler Sebring LX.

Introduced in 2007, the styling of the current iteration of the Chrysler Sebring is an Art Deco mess. The appeal of the bold ribbed hood is so specific that it would require a car of far greater stature to pull it off.  Since the Sebring is of such lowly accomplishment, the over-styling only serves to accentuate how pathetic this car truly is. To be blunt and concise, it’s ugly. Moving on . . .

When I landed my butt on the seat, the flabby, unsupportive sponge of a seat collapsed to the floor pan under my 200 lb. Although the foot wells offered copious legroom when I moved the seat back, I felt crowded between the transmission tunnel and door.

I’m sure that the interior of the Sebring seemed spectacular on paper. The designers incorporated pleasing airfoil-inspired shapes that have terrific flow. The layout is elegantly restrained and utilizes metallic paneling, wooden trim and a beautiful crystalline clock. Just don’t expect to find any real aluminum, chrome, wood or crystal.

In fact, the look is entirely spoiled by grotesquely cheap components, ill-fitting plastics and poor construction. On the negative side, the left side of the glove box sagged, leaving a 3/16″ gap. On the positive side, the right side fit snugly. Gaps at the base of the A-pillars were similarly wide and uneven. Everywhere, the panels looked like unmatched jigsaw puzzle pieces forced together by a kindergartner. Flip the Sebring’s sun visor up and the entire headliner bounces like it is one sharp pothole jolt away from crashing down around your ears.

A Chrysler salesman saw fit to accompany me on my test drive. Since the Sebring is such a delicate thing, we began our route in the traditional positions. As I bounced uncomfortably along in the passenger seat, the man-whose-life-elevates-mine explained that the Sebring is very comparable to the Acura TSX. (Yes, very.) In fact, the Sebring exceeds the TSX in some respects.

I was so stunned by the brazenness of the lie that I was utterly speechless. I sat in doe-eyed silence as he continued to find machines worthy of comparison to the Chrysler Sebring. How about the Honda Accord and Toyota Camry? How ’bout them Cowboys?

The ill-informed Chrysler salesman was just telling me that the Continuously Variable Transmission in the Sebring made it so that I would never feel the gear shift—right as the rough running four-speed automatic clunked its way from first to second. Chrysler claims 173 hp and 166 lb·ft from the 2.4-liter DOHC four-cylinder engine, but real world performance is not nearly so generous. Even at just 3310 lb, this Porky Pig wants nothing to do with accelerating up a freeway onramp or passing on a two-lane highway.

One would think that as harshly as the LX takes bumps that perhaps it was sport tuned. Eh, noooo. The Sebring is the worst of all cars tested in this class—American and Japanese—for both ride quality and excessive body roll. The Sebring rewards neither driver nor passenger with its primitive and crashy driving dynamics.

Is there anything that Chrysler did better than Ford or Chevy? Yes, sort of. It does match Chevy for the best highway gas mileage. And it does brag the largest interior volume (at the expense of the smallest trunk).

So Chrysler builds ’em cheap. There’s a place in this world for inexpensive cars, right?

Would that it were so. The sticker price of this little Inferno Red Crystal Pearlcoat Sebring LX was $21,480, a scant $145 less than the Chevrolet Malibu LS and $845 more than the Ford Fusion. Throw in the suicide rebates and “employee pricing” Chrysler is slapping on the ribbed hood, and the Sebring price drops to $18,947, still about $2,000 above a comparably equipped Fusion (with its rebates).

At the end of our tour, the Chrysler salesman asked me what I thought. Without equivocation I told him. [Note to self: never play poker with a Chrysler salesman.] But if it makes him feel any better, I hope he finds solace in the fact that the Sebring does cost $10K less than an Acura TSX.

Not long ago, apropos of I don’t remember what, I posted on this site about a 1960 Imperial and its owner, Jim Byers. Byers had been an impressario of jazz for the Kennedy Center. I met him in the mid-90s while photographing his car. Byers saw my post on TTAC and emailed me. He’d replaced the ’60 with a ’67. Coincidentally, I had fled Boston’s snows for several weeks. We arranged to meet down by the Potomac so that I could test drive the ’67.

Of the top-of-the-line luxury cars of the ’50s and ’60s, Caddy had serious bling. Lincoln Continental had a dignified grace, and served as presidential limos to JFK and LBJ. The Imperial was too baroque for Washington, DC, but its elaborate elegance would have made it the perfect chariot for the Italian renaissance. Had Venice had roads instead of canals . . .

The 1960 Imperial’s luxuries are ample, starting with soft leather seats that hug you like a long lost friend. There’s a mirror inside the glove box for your lady, which folds down when she’s not using it, and a cigarette lighter on the right-hand door console for her smoking pleasure. Should you drive a bit too enthusiastically, she can grab the little security handle carved into the far right extremity of the dash.

For the rear passengers, a button slides either front bucket seat forward, ensuring graceful egress. All passengers are surrounded by a genuine walnut trim. The Imperial’s luxury aura takes a hit from the downmarket, colorless gray gauges and radio, reminiscent of those found on my parents’ 1970 Valiant, a near-stripper.

Like many classic cars, the Imperial comes with a history. In the 1940s, a small airplane embedded itself in the Empire State Building. The ’67′s first owner: Harvey B. Moyer, proprietor of the demolition company that had extricated plane from spire. Byers, owner number three, has added some of his own color to the Imperial’s history. For several years, he ran the Straight Eights, a DC area vintage car club for gays and lesbians.

To drive the Imperial is to feel elevated. President Obama must have felt something like this the first time he was chauffeured in that fortress of a Cadillac. President Obama, as you may know, drove a 340 hp Chrysler 300C until he was outed during the campaign, after castigating the D-3 for building “bigger, faster cars.” Poor Barack then felt obliged to purchase a Ford Escape hybrid, just like Hillary, and John Edwards, and Christopher Dodd (who had owned a Mustang). Hewing to political correctness can take the fun out of driving, but I digress.

Anyway, I set off at a leisurely pace from the Jefferson Memorial, along Potomac Park East. I pushed the Imperial ever so slightly as I rounded the corner that hooks back towards the Jefferson, just enough so she leaned like a yacht in a strong wind. The road was empty, so I floored her.

The Imperial weighs close to 5,000 lb. Despite my attempt to muster the Chrysler’s alleged 480 lb·ft of torque (at 2,800 rpm), she seemed in no hurry to reach 50 mph. I jerked the wheel to check the front end. After the helm returned to the straight ahead position, the big lady performed a little wiggle-woggle.

We cruised the Mall towards Air and Space, turning left onto fourth street, so that we could roll by I. M. Pei’s East Wing, my favorite Washington building, and on down Constitution Ave. I don’t need no stinkin’ SUV to sit high in this thing. I WAS high, looking out over all the people crowding the American History and Technology side of the Mall, hoping to see some Power, or maybe just a museum.

I was expecting them to notice ME, and this grand chariot. But no one seemed to notice, and then some stupid SUV actually cut in front of me. The whole family suddenly noticed that they’d just cut off President Holzman (that’s me, the first Jew to lead the Free World). They waved and smiled.

Besides the Imperial’s wonderfully floaty, boaty feel, and the effortlessly numb steering, this land yacht’s four disc brakes feel as competent as those on any contemporary appliance. The silky V8, with 72,000 original miles, feels like it could easily do another 72,000, and who knows, maybe another 72,000 after that, although I can’t help wondering if this beast felt far more puissant during the Nixon and Ford administrations than it does now.

My strongest impression of the Imperial came after I got back into my ’99 Accord LX with the 2.4-liter engine and the five speed stick. The Honda felt the way my brother-in-law’s Audi TT had felt just days earlier when I had driven it for the first time. Major torque and steering fit to carve up Skyline Drive––even with the snows on! That effect stayed with me for the rest of the day, through another 25 miles or so. It wasn’t until the next morning that my sense of  Accord returned to normal.

The Pontiac instantly seduces you with a restrained and handsome profile– terminating in a rear end stolen from the Toyota Solara. In midnight black, the gargantuan panel gaps disappear to present a nicely- integrated whole, set off by similarly restrained 18 inch wheels. The G6 looks like a svelte coupe with the top up, and a boulevard cruiser with it down. Dalmatians of the world rejoice! GM left the Cruella De Vil grill intakes from the G6 GXP off the convertible.

While the Pontiac might pass as a little black dress, the Chrysler looks like a prom gown from the 1980’s, complete with poofed sleeves. Design cues from around the world are presented in a discombobulated package, attempting to look refined. The American hood strakes and chrome grill start the mess, European crease lines and rub strips make up the middle, and last decade’s Japanese tail lamps wrap up the rear.

The Sebring looks best when topless. Yet no one would ever call the Sebring handsome. The omnipresent rental-car beige (Chrysler offers three shades) and black paint subdue the “we will try anything and everything” style to almost inoffensive levels. Almost.

The excitement the Pontiac presents outside only makes your jaw drop harder when gazing upon the acres and acres of cheap black plastic slathered throughout the interior. The G6’s interior is like that popular girl in high school who shows up at the reunion ten years later, a complete throwback to the past with a lot more jiggly bits and a reminder that some things from previous decades should be consigned to the scrap heap of history.

Not only do the plastics disappoint, Pontiac also completely screwed up the ergonomics. Want to change tracks on the CD player? You reach for the skip button only to accidentally increase the volume, and then cut your finger on the sharp-edged chrome trim around the knob. Tiny buttons abound, from the stereo to the cruise control to the convertible top switch. All are cheap and insubstantial feeling. The only relief from the oppressive blackness of the instrument panel: the chrome rings tossed around the cabin in sufficient quantity to leave you with suspicions of Ringling Brothers Circus sponsorship.

Chrysler barely edges out the Pontiac in the better-looking cheap plastics contest. Avoiding Pontiac’s “black hole of despair” theme, Chrysler offers a pleasant palette for a light airy feel. Yes, but– the polymers are harder to the touch than Barack Obama’s rhetoric; shiny in some places, dull in others. The Sebring’s tortoiseshell veneers are a laudable attempt to do something different, but the execution makes it look as if sunglasses melted on the dashboard.

At least Chrysler spent more than ten minutes working out the ergonomic details. The LCD stereo display is aesthetically pleasing and ergonomically sound, especially when accessing the MyGig system. The upmarket-looking climate control dials click reassuringly; another bright spot on a barely passing grade. The seats on the Chrysler are as springy as Grandma’s couch, a completely opposite feel to the Pontiac’s grippy and more comfortable Recaro-esque buckets.

Both manufacturers claim to provide luxury for four, but first class on a Greyhound bus is still first class on a Greyhound bus. Both cars claim top operation only takes 30 seconds. Pontiac guessed right, Chrysler got it wrong by a lot.

The Pontiac’s top lurches into the trunk (and takes up ALL the space) with a bit of hesitation while providing a “will this work in three years?” origami display of engineering. The Chrysler takes nearly 45 seconds of whining. When the trunk lid pops to swallow the top, the entire car shakes like a pole dancer, wobbles a bit and then clunks alarmingly when sealing shut. I wouldn’t keep the Sebring past the standard warranty period based solely on the scary top operation.

At least you still get some accessible storage when the Chrysler goes topless (enough for two golf bags).  You might be able to store a pizza in the Pontiac’s 2.2 cubic feet, but you have to raise the top to get to it.

Once the finicky tops are lowered, you’re all set to blast down Highway 190 into the sunset-drenched Sierra Nevadas and let your cares blow away in the wind… or not.

The Pontiac G6 GT Convertible wouldn’t know the word “blast” if it was shot in the face by a Howitzer. With either the standard 3.5-liter VVT pushrod V6 (217bhp), or the 3.9-liter 222bhp V6 (again with ancient pushrods), forward progress requires that you squeeze the throttle about three inches until you meet some resistance. At which point the engine pops a Valium, gives you a dirty look and groans up the rpm band.

The older-than-Bob-Lutz engine designs might actually have shown some pep were they not coupled to an incredibly lousy four-speed automatic transmission. The tranny either bogs the engine down or kicks down into noise-making gear. Neither situation is conducive to either sporty or relaxing driving. You are always trying to out guess the slushbox.

Slip the lever into “manual” mode and it gets even worse. The experience proves irritating to the point where you want to rip the gear lever out of its cheap plastic housing and proceed to beat the rest of the car with it (which I wouldn’t advise, considering the poor build quality). GM offers a good six-speed automatic on other G6’s, so why not here?

After the G6, the drive train in the Chrysler Sebring Limited Hardtop Convertible seems like a breath of fresh air. The Sebring’s 3.5-liter SOHC V6 (with a G6-bettering 235bhp) is equipped with a six-speed automatic as standard. The engine and transmission work together smoothly to launch the Sebring quickly and semi-serenely. The tranny always keeps the power band on the boil while never letting it get raucous. It’s perfect for a cruiser convertible.

The downside: a non-existent exhaust note. In place of a V6 growl, you get to hear a bit of cooling fan roar and the fuel pump. As interesting as I find it to listen to an electric motor whir its little heart out, it’s not nearly as blissful as the mechanical symphony found on most drop-tops.

After putting in your earplugs to silence both the G6’s heavy metal and the Sebring’s electronic disco, you find both cars want to sit on the side of the dance floor and pretend they know the proper steps. The Sebring offends the least with a stable and smooth-riding platform that provides rental-car-friendly safe handling. Understeer only becomes annoying should you want to go faster than the legal speed limit. The standard stabilizer bars front and rear keep the body roll to less-than-yacht-like conditions and the standard suspension dampers keep the vertical bouncy motions to a minimum.

Drive it like you retired in it, and the Sebring manages to create a sedate and somewhat relaxing experience; it demands nothing from the driver who has all the time in the world. Top down or up, body quiver is never an issue, although small wiggles find their way through the rack-and-pinion steering. One weird gripe: at cruising speed, the wind buffets the sun visors, creating a boring gray flutter in your line of vision. Epileptics should not purchase this vehicle.

At the first turn of the G6’s wheel, you might as well stop turning. Typical of all G6’s, understeer reigns with a tyrannical vengeance. Vague steering and precious little feedback degrade the experience to the point where the G6 GT becomes almost dangerous to drive in any conditions other than a straight line. The harder you press the car (provided you could stand the transmission), the less fun it provides. When the 18-inch tires finally start to grip, the chassis slides slightly in its bushings, creating a strange plywood-on-springs sensation.

Keeping the G6 on the straight and level reveals the Pontiac engineers were listening to Chubby Checker belt out “The Twist.” A 1986 SAAB 900 convertible has less cowl shake. On the rough Oklahoma interstates, the Pontiac shook so badly I started to get motion sickness– and I fly for a living! I could only listen to the top secured in the trunk crack in protest. I give the standard glass rear window about two-and-a-half years before it needs replacing.

Driving both cars back-to-back reveals one clear “winner:” the Chrysler Sebring Limited. It may have awkward aesthetics, but its decent drivetrain and nicer interior make the Pontiac G6 GT look like the classic dumb blond: all looks with absolutely no substance to back it up. If offered a Sebring drop top as a rental car, I wouldn’t turn it down. 

I know: that’s not exactly what you’d call high praise. Compared to the competition– ANY competition– both cars are losers. If it was my hard-earned $30Kish, I’d spend it on a Mustang GT Convertible, VW EOS, SAAB 9-3, Mazda MX-5 or ANYTHING else. Hell, I might even spend it on nothing. And the fact that the G6 and Sebring’s manufacturers have put these underdeveloped cars on the market brings glory to neither.

G6 Ratings

Sebring Ratings  

Viewed head on, the Sebring’s got a lot of Aspen and a bit of Crossfire and none of the underworld zazz that made the gangsta 300 such a hit. The Sebring’s nose isn’t particularly hideous, but the side view sure is. In profile, the Sebring is flat-out Frankensteinian. I can’t believe this abomination got out of Ralph Gilles’s lab alive. (Where’s a pitchfork when you need one?) From the doors back, the Sebring appears to be suffering from dwarfism. The strakes, while not plastic, are as ungainly as anything crapifying a Pontiac. And the Sebring’s top line was created via machete; it’s an ugly, deforming slash.

The Sebring is based upon the fetching Airflite concept car, a machine that betrayed its right-wheel driveness via a long hood and fenders. Just as DCX trashed the drop-dead gorgeous Crossfire concept car by mandating it be built on a truncated cast-off SLK chassis, the graceful proportions of the Airflite have been murdered by its Mitsubishi underpinnings. Here’s the knife in the back: the Mercedes C-Class is due for a refresh. If Dr. Z had based the Sebring on the old C, it would not have become a nightmarish eyesore. But he didn’t so it is.

A friend of mine goes numb with boredom whenever I discuss cars. She simply doesn’t care (and therefore drives a Saturn). After four seconds seated in the Sebring’s passenger seat she pronounced: “This feels like a rental car.” I’ll skip the obvious (don’t touch anything save the heated/cooled cupholder) and get to the glaringly obvious. The steering wheel features wings made out of the same plastic as your kid’s toy sword, angled so that reflected sunlight blinds any driver condemned to seat time in this clueless car. The ugly, even harder plastic sheet glued to the back of the seats makes sitting in the puny rear that much more miserable. This from an automaker owned by Mercedes? For shame.

The top-shelf $25k Sebring Limited is fitted with a SOHC 24V V6 producing 235hp and 232 ft.-lbs. of twist. That’s enough grunt to motivate the Sebring from zero to 60mph in… wait for it… 7.7 seconds. While not slow per se, the stat’s not competitive. A similarly priced 260hp Nissan Altima does the deed in 6.6 seconds. The 244hp Honda Accord takes 7 seconds flat. As for the Sebring’s engine note noise, well, if Angus and Malcolm Young and Bon Scott hadn’t written a song called “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap,” they would’ve jumped out of this car suitably inspired.

Aside from the Sebring’s grabby stoppers, middling acceleration is the car’s dynamic strong point. The handling puts the abyss in abysmal. There’s so much torque steer that it’s a constant battle just to keep the car pointed in a straight line. Even a minor stab at the go-pedal triggers the tiller’s disapproval. Turns are just plain awful. Moving left and right is a multi-step affair. First, turn the wheel. Second, wait for the vehicle to fully lurch over onto one of the front springs. Finally, sit in terror as the weight is unloaded and the car leans all the way back in the other direction, maybe (or maybe not) aiming where you pointed it.

Improbably enough, the ride is even worse. With the Sebring’s short wheelbase and lousy suspension, bumps aren’t just felt, but profoundly understood. A choppy stretch of pavement can induce sensory hallucination; I swear a tiny man with a jackhammer was attacking my kidneys. And the pizza box thick (and flat) seats lend no support whatsoever. I will testify under oath that the engineers responsible have never driven a car in their lives.

I don’t get it. DCX must be trying to kill Chrysler. They’ve faced-up to the fact that the monster profits once found in lardo SUVs have dried up and decided to move on. Sunny Von Bulow knows what happens next.

Do I sound insane? Paranoid? Delusional? I cannot think of another remotely credible reason why any carmaker, knowing full well that the Camry and Accord are out there, would bring such a tired dog to market. Seriously, how profitable can rental cars be?

[Chrysler provided the vehicle, insurance and a tank of gas.]

Judging by its looks, the Chrysler 300 is still a winner. The chopped roof, crisp overhangs, Audi TT-esque fender flares and jeweler’s grade front fascia are still the stuff of urban legend. The SUV-like stance (generated by a sky-high beltline) and K-car influenced rear deck further distinguish the big Chrysler from the Boyz in the bland. Personally, I find this flying brick (with a drag coefficient to match) a far cry from Bentley sedans and vintage 300’s. Put another way, who stole a Checker Marathon and ran it through a wind tunnel? 

Too bad that chunky profile only looks solid. Rest your butt on the front end, lean back and give your best “mean mug” for the camera and the front clip flexes and twists in disapproval. Ditto the back bumper: rest a box before loading the trunk and the 300’s posterior sags like the rack of a middle-aged supermodel. 

The Chrysler 300’s interior continues the cheap and not-so-cheerful theme. Aside from tight panel gaps and soft polymers above the dashboard equator, the cabin is awash in the kind of flash cast plastics “enjoyed” by owners of Hyundai’s Excel. The 300’s cabin serves-up a farrago of bargain basement materials: from hard, nasty armrests to a vinyl-wrapped steering wheel. The 300’s thrones were designed by the folks at Slip n’ Slide, complete with leather inserts that are virtually indistinguishable from their vinyl surroundings. The optional Boston Acoustics’ boombox is as clear as it is loud– provided you remain in front.

Hop in the back and the sound quality flies out the window, right after the delightful gong resonance made by closing the rear portals. The 300’s backseat is best reserved for short trips with short people; everyone else leaves the 300’s lean rear cushions tired and stressed after a lengthy interstate odyssey. The trunk’s shallow, oddly-shaped cargo hole and the overly aggressive assist-struts on a zero-leverage deck lid do nothing to help the family car basics. There’s but one shining [three pointed] star in the 300’s cabin: a cruise control stalk with all the precise, perfectly weighted feel of a Mercedes’ part– donated to an otherwise lost cause.

Throw the 300 into some switchbacks and you can tell where the car’s manufacturer spent their money. The 300’s independent (front) and five-link (rear) suspension is a distant cousin to the old E-class. Tweaked by the Dark Lords of DCX and bolted onto to a stiff chassis, the greasy bits provide plenty of poise for one so portly (3800 pounds). Boot the package in a corner and 250lb-ft of torque sends the 300’s rear tires dancing in delight– moments before the ESP flashes a warning that this isn’t an E63 AMG and you aren’t Michael Schumacher (or Jay Shoemaker).

Even with the handling Nanny in attendance, the 300 is a wonderful mix of raucous handling and reassuring ride. The 300’s Chris-Craftian tiller has way too much rim for spirited maneuvers, but the power-assisted rack and pinion steering provides reasonable feel for a passenger sedan aimed squarely at the over-40 set. With 55-series tires on hand (ironically enough), the Chrysler’s ride is 401K-compliant, splitting the distance between BMW’s teeth chattering firmness and the roll and pitch of a Toyota Camry. 

Even without the hemispherical hot tamale under the bonnet, the 300's no slouch. The sedan’s 3.5-liter high-output SOHC V6 may not stand a chance against the latest hi-po six-pots, but 250hp hooked-up to a reasonably responsive five-speed autobox ensures that the 300 gets out of its own way without unnecessary delay, thirst (19/27) or embarrassment. (Which is more than you can say for the base by name base by nature 2.7-liter V6.)

Taken as a whole, the 300 is proto-synergy. When first mooted, the Daimler Chrysler combo was touted as a ”merger of equals,” blending German engineering with American style. Instead of blowing away the competition with anal retentive engineering and unassailable build quality, the Chrysler 300 is a half-baked half-breed: a car with excellent bones, a flash exterior, a dreadful interior and dubious build quality.

Props to the 300 for reinvigorating American car design, finding tremendous popularity and more than paying its way. But it’s time for DCX to update this bad boy or build something that fulfills the merger’s original premise. Otherwise, the 300 is destined to become a textbook case of a synergistic failure to turn hype into reality.

I was, driving the thing. I mean, this could be the only vehicle capable of making the Durango’s ungainly, truncated snout seem svelte and perfectly proportioned. Honestly, the Aspen’s short, flat, striated schnoz rivals Cyrano de Bergerac’s proboscis for impure, adulterated hideousness. The protruding front bumper, a throwback to the bad old days when safety equipment was literally tacked on, adds aesthetic insult to non-injury. As for the rest of the design, again, it’s a Durango. How great is that?

Inside, oy. We’ve been sounding the alarm over the proliferation of DCX’ generic cabins for a while now, wondering why so many of their distinctive-looking vehicles are virtually indistinguishable from the pilot’s position. The addition of some light colored wood, model airplane quality silver plastic and a cute little analogue clock to Chrysler’s identikit interior does nothing to lift this “luxury” ute into the luxury category. The column shifter, mouse fur headliner and poorly attached, revolting carpet do much to lower it into econobox territory. For a $30k – $40k product, the lack of tactile satisfaction and overall attention to detail is stunning.

Fold the second row seat forward and the nasty looking sharp-edged seat mechanism– complete with tire jack– stands ready to rip your shins to pieces. Press the cargo bay’s side panel and the entire flimsy plastic piece bows seriously inwards. The rear cargo hatch flies open, and then glides the final leg of its journey. Speaking of leg room, while we can dismiss the third row’s Geneva Convention defying limb constriction as par for the course, how can you justify a second row that requires a 5’10” driver to slide forward? Towing capacity?

Hey, it’s true: the Aspen provides best in class towing: 8950 pounds. That’s provided you buy the Hemi (an extra grand), a 3.92 rear end and stick with a 4X2 transmission– which would still make the Aspen a poor choice for anyone trying to pull a tree off a road so his ex-girlfriend and her new squeeze can get through. Anyway, our tester came with said 5.7-liter hemispherically combustion chambered V8, which should have provided an excuse– however shameful– to buy this rig. I mean, if you’re going to burn fossil fuel like someone who hangs around video gas pumps just for fun, your SUV might as well go like stink.

That it doesn’t. Our tester’s Hemi may have been greener than Kermit the Frog, but I bet the cloth covered amphibian is quicker off the line. Car and Driver clocked the Aspen’s zero to sixty sprint at an impressive 7.2 seconds. We couldn’t get near that figure. More importantly, the Aspen's 335-horse, 370 foot-pounding Hemi only responds to a whip hand; there’s none of that anywhere, anytime thrust that makes the similarly engined 300C such a pleasure to drive. I suppose you need a jet engine to fully motivate a 5400 pound truck, but again, low mileage should equal massive thrust.

By tying down the SUV’s independent front, live axle rear suspension tighter than a gnat’s sphincter, Chrysler engineers managed to get a gi-normous body-on-frame truck with 20” wheels to stay level through the twisties. The downside to this technological feat: the ride quality is best described as “muffled discomfort” and the lack of body lean tempts you to drive this monster faster than you should. Good thing the seats offer no lateral support, the rack and pinion steering provides no useful feedback, the A-pillars cut off any practical view through a bend and the Aspen’s anchors are powerful and easily modulated. The stoppers are more than capable of saving your bacon the first (and presumably only) time you overcook it.

So what, dear friends, is the point of the Aspen? Don’t tell me (Steve Siler) that Chrysler dealers were clamoring for a vehicle more macho than a Pacifica, ‘cause the Aspen is about as macho as William Shatner’s truss. Nor will I accept the argument that this, this, “thing” is Chrysler’s Escalade. Even people with bad taste have better taste than that, and it ain’t nowhere near big enough for the Brothas. No, the only reason I can see for the Aspen’s existence is that someone in marketing said it would be cheap to build a Durango derivative for Chrysler. That’ll teach the suits not to do too much blow the next time they're minging at a Colorado ski resort.  

Few would argue that the PT's retrosexual curves haven't held up well– even if fellow Cruisers have long outgrown the whole light-flashing fraternity thing. But up front, DaimlerChrysler's makeover artists have reworked the lower valance to questionable effect. Whereas the original PT's lower reaches looked like an extension of the shield-shaped grille, the new design is at once more conventional and less harmonious; chrome garnishes, scalloped headlamps and new-look fogs creating change for the sake thereof. In our case, the PT's now legendary two-box profile rides on 'chrome clad' nine-spokers (16' alloys with a mirror-finish cap screwed on) and shiny side moldings. Out back, the song remains the same, with new clear-element taillights and a larger chrome (natch) exhaust. The overall effect remains that of a gangster mobile playfully packing cap guns. In the case of our "go for baroque" Electric Blue Limited, chrome ones. (We'll leave the bling-laden '2CK Quick Order Package' unchecked on the order sheet and pocket the $3,200, thanks)

Inside, DCX has given the PT larger, chrome-ringed gauges, round air vents, an 'Oh Shit' towel-bar of a grab-handle and a revamped center stack capped with an analog clock. Our tester's seats were a bit narrower than we recall, though wrapped in upscale cowhide and 'preferred suede' (the best euphemism for "fake leather" we've ever heard). Evidently looking to abandon its cheap n' cheerful reputation, our PT arrived ladled with a bushel's worth of options: power chairs with bun warmers, satellite radio, trip computer, the lot. Some of the Cruiser's middling interior plastics have been retextured, but it's largely the same well-assembled, functional and characterful interior as before. Even if the PT hasn't gotten a Cribs-style makeover, its den is still a fun, funky place to chill, with peerless room, excellent sightlines and a charming, tongue-in-cheek aesthetic unavailable elsewhere at this price point (barring the MINI franchise).

Under its U-shaped clamshell, our PT proffered a 2.4-liter force-fed four-cylinder, yoked to a 4-speed automatic. The PT's 180-horse light-pressure turbo imbues the retromobile with sufficient mid-range power to bob along all day at 80 mph, secreting a little extra in reserve for passing poke. When given Das Boot, the PT's old-skool four-speed slushbox often comes harder and later than a XXX A-lister. As no manual override or DIY option is available with the Limited's powerplant, drivers are encouraged to learn the tranny's tipping point to ensure smooth, swift progress.

We averaged about 22 mpg, an acceptable if uninspiring result given a hooligan's right foot. Either way, there's little wrong here that an up-to-date gearbox couldn't fix. Well, perhaps we'd take a reworked exhaust. As it is, Cruisin' soundtracks are best left to the discs in the six-puck stereo, because the engine's tune isn't nearly as playful as the vehicle it motivates.

Grab the (too thin) pseudo-banjo-spoke wheel, pitch the PT hard into a bend, and the front-driver's Goodyear Eagles wash out with Woolite-like predictability. Given its humble (and elderly) underpinnings — MacPherson strut (front), twist-beam/Watts link (rear) — the Limited acquits itself very well. But like a too-staid 'steady,' our touring-suspended PT proved a companion merely tolerant of questionable behavior. A more aggressive tread pattern than our tester's milquetoast footwear would go a long way towards improving the PT's fun-to-drive quotient, as might a slightly lowered ride height (the Cruiser's stance is a bit 'high-boy' for our tastes). Admittedly, its brakes haul 'er down with repeatable predictability, though we're at a loss as to why anti-lock supervision remains an option box unchecked on a $23k example.

The PT's dynamic pitfall is its epic turning circle. While hardly an issue when lazing along the interstate, it's a remarkably tough sell in tight parking lots. We suspect it's a packaging hurdle brought about by its pointed retro prow. However, given the its small footprint, it bears repeating: turning the PT round about its axis is a little… round about. Let's face it: the Cruiser has always romanced buyers with the curves of its fenders, not those upon which it travels. Yes, the Little Chrysler That Could remains flawed, but improbably enough, well… the kid stays in the picture.

[Chrysler provided the vehicle reviewed, insurance, taxes and a tank of gas]

In keeping with its multi-tasking mission, the Pacifica doesn't look like anything else on the market. With its dramatic belt line diving from back to front, the forward-leaning Pacifica's sheet metal has all the style of a Sinatra fedora. The details are equally compelling. Unlike its minivan competitors, the crossover's 17" wheels fit the wheel wells. The door handles aren't refugees from a bottomless parts bin. The bright work is deployed sparingly and with taste. In short, the Pacifica is the first pentastar product in a long time that doesn't look like it was designed by committee.

Pacifica ads promise a luxurious sedan-like interior. In a stark break with industry tradition, it delivers. The Pacifica's cabin is simple and stylish; it's made from materials that wouldn't seem out of place in a mid-level Mercedes. In case you're not entirely convinced that a Chrysler can have class, the company's added a bit of technological whiz bang. In the flat world of navigation systems, the Pacifica's oversized display screen– sitting bang in the middle of the speedometer– is an ergonomic triumph. It's too bad Chrysler's sat nav software is easily disoriented and provides erroneous directions.

Our test Pacifica came equipped with four separate bucket seats (the base model has a minivan-esque rear bench). The fronts are more supportive than a third grade teacher, complete with fold down arm rests, power every which way (but loose) and memory. The rears are arranged theater-style. They slide fore and aft, recline and provide passengers easy access to separate controls for the air conditioning and optional DVD system (perfect for today's non-conversational kids). The seats in the way, WAY back are suitable only for children, dogs and in-laws. Although all the rear seats fold down, there's no way you can create a completely flat loading surface without an acetylene torch.

While the rear passengers enjoy terrific vistas all 'round, drivers will find that the Pacifica's rear window bears an uncanny resemblance to a mail slot. When you look in the rear view mirror the entire window fills the frame. The window wiper looks the size of a pencil. Visibility wouldn't be worse if the door was made out of solid steel.

Chrysler teamed up with Infinity to create one of the world's best and most complicated audio systems. It's a farrago of oddly shaped buttons, rockers, sliders and a big plastic knob. Underneath the CD-equipped head unit there's… another CD player. The overall design is so ergonomically compromised that Chrysler just plain gave up and added two multi-function ICE-control buttons to the back of the steering wheel. Luckily, the helm-based switches offer a simple and effective alternative to the head unit's RTFM Hell.

You might think that 250 horses would be enough to motivate a two-ton vehicle. And it is. Kind of. The Pacifica ambles to 60 in a little under ten seconds. Shifting manually with the AutoStick gives you something to do to while away the time, but the system does little to increase the beast's acceleration. Once the Pacifica's 3.5 liter V6 gets rolling, the picture brightens considerably. The big crossover cruises effortlessly at 90mph. When you call down to the engine room at slower speeds, the powerplant answers authoritatively. Unfortunately, sloth does not equal frugality. Chrysler and our chronically over-optimistic pals at the EPA claim the Pacifica gets 17/23 mpg. Our test Pacifica turned in just 16.2.

At least it burned its fuel with grace. With struts up front and a five-link self-leveling suspension in the rear, the Pacifica errs on the fun-to-drive side. It turns in sharply, changes directions well and generally slings itself through the corners with more polish than you'd expect from a vehicle this generously sized. The Pacifica may be nothing more than a rolling chicane to an MX5, but Chrysler's crossover is hardly an automotive penalty box.

Buying a Pacifica is one of those rare instances where you really can have it all (assuming you have a spare $30k): the comfort of a luxury sedan, the practicality of a minivan and the psychological security of an SUV. All the Pacifica needs to mount a comeback, to capitalize on the current SUV exodus, is better mileage. The moment DCX installs a more fuel efficient engine is the moment the Pacifica will get the attention it deserves.

First and foremost, it's a four-seater. The rag-top cognoscenti know that a convertible's FGF increases arithmetically with each additional passenger. If the rear seats are spacious, the pleasure generated is almost inconceivable. Try. Imagine stashing a couple of best buds in your Chrysler top-down two-door and heading for the beach; sucking on an ice cold Coke and blissing on Ban de Soleil as your crew sing along with the latest Black Eyed Peas hookfest. If that's not a peak automotive experience (and an example of unpaid product placement), I don't know what is.

The Convertible's dramatic styling gives it tremendous cruise-compliant curb appeal. The PT's sheet metal proclaims its idealized intentions without embarrassment or affectation. It's a shame the hood doesn't stow flat; the baby-carriage back end violates the PT's vanitude. Luckily, the St. Louis arch bisecting the cabin draws the eye away from the rear, helping to maintain focus on the PT Cruiser Convertible's flowing lines.

That said, I've never been a big fan of the PT's retro-minded aesthetics. I've seen too many perfectly restored antique automobiles to surrender myself to a pastiche that combines an elegant Chrome Age grill with a 40's panel van. Flipping the PT's lid only highlights the bizarre dichotomy between the art deco prow and the prison wall rear end. I reckon this is one of the only convertibles made that looks better with the top up. Still, to paraphrase Rupert Pupkin, it's better to be a Cruiser for a night than an Impala for a lifetime.

The PT Cruiser Convertible's upgraded interior doesn't quite live up to the exterior spizzarkle. While the level of fit and finish is unassailable– a remarkable achievement given the price point– the all-important center stack has more than a whiff of rental car to it. The radio sets the tone; it's a cheap-looking unit with a digital display harkening back to the entirely wrong era (the '70's). The wet-look plastic surrounding the instrument cluster and sheltering the passenger airbag is a feeble attempt to echo the painted metal dashboards of 50's land yachts. The gauges themselves are typographically bland and slightly too small. Wherever you look, it's quality over flair.

At the risk of contradicting myself, the PT Cruiser Convertible offers dynamic compensation for its plodding interior. The five-speed manual gearbox, for example, is a peach. The shift knob is perfectly positioned, and the transmission swaps cogs with well-oiled precision. The helm has just enough road feel to remind owners that cruising consists of equal parts posing, scoping and driving. The GT's disc brakes lack initial bite and require some committed pushing, but they reward the effort with power and grace.

Which is just as well. The GT's 2.4-liter four-cylinder turbo brings new meaning to the word "overkill". As soon as you crest 4000rpms in first or second gear, the front wheels start slip sliding away. Combine this with body flex and a bit of wheel hop and, well, let's just say it's best to let those 230 horses graze. Pistonheads are advised to buy the less powerful variant and chill.

No problem. A PT Cruiser Convertible in amble mode is Hakuna Matata in-car-nate. In fact, Chrysler should sell a line of Hawaiian shirts to match the Cruiser's color chart (Linen Gold, Cool Vanilla, etc.). Drivers who believe you can't put a price on open-top nirvana– but have to do so anyway– would wear them with pride. And why not? If you're looking for a spacious, well-built, sensibly-priced drop top that makes you drive by store windows to look AT them, rather than THROUGH them, the PT Cruiser Convertible is the ideal fresh air whip, bar none.

I love horsepower. I love the feel of it lingering underfoot, ready to explode into neck-snapping, stomach-churning, tire-shredding violence. I love the sound of it: the blend of Fortissississimo bellowing and heavy metal madness. I love the power of it, the ability to make “ordinary” machines look as if God grabbed their rear bumpers and yanked them backwards. Sure, my passion for accelerative overload is infantile, dangerous and about as politically correct as a 1920s minstrel show. But at least it isn’t impractical or expensive. Well, not anymore.

You can now buy a four-door 425 hp Chrysler 300C SRT-8 for a nickel under $40K. That’s a lot of numbers. And no matter how you look at it—size, performance or style—the 300C SRT-8 is a lot of car. So let’s take this road test thing nice and slow . . . . Only we here at TTAC don’t do anything “nice.” And “slow” is not a word in the SRT-8′s vocabulary (I have a hard time understanding it myself). So what the Hell. Let’s strap in, mash the go pedal and see where it takes us.

Straight to the brake pedal. We’ve traveled so far so fast we need to slow down RIGHT NOW, and hope that Chrysler’s Street and Racing Technology (SRT) knows as much about brakes as they do about big-bore powerplants. Fo shizzle. When caning a 425 hp car weighing 4160 lb, there’s no time to ponder the finer points of rotor size, “swept area”, ABS, etc. It’s strictly press and pray.

Did I mention that the 300C SRT-8 doesn’t like to let go of its revs? Lift off the gas and there’s no danger of engine braking; starving the 6.1-liter Hemi of dead dinoflagellates has about as much immediate effect as switching off the afterburners on an F15. Not to put too fine a point on it, the 300C SRT-8 is a blat – coast – blat kinda car. Oh, and the five-speed gearbox (a Mercedes E-Class hand-me-down) is as fond of kickdown as the Toyota Prius is of low revs. The big Chrysler can resist anything except acceleration.

Right. Where were we? Oh yes, in dire need of stoppage. And stop we shall. If a car is only as good as its brakes, Chrysler’s flagship muscle car is a match for the very best. Both the SRT-8 and BMW’s M5 require only 110 feet of pavement to slow themselves from sixty to zero. While the SRT-8′s left pedal doesn’t offer much in the way of initial feel, the massive anchors are powerful enough to yank you out of the trouble that the steroidal engine can oh-so-easily put you in. Now, let’s try a little cornering . . .

Before tackling the twisties, switch off the ESP traction control. I don’t usually recommend thrashing a Nanny-less sedan with 420 lb·ft of torque, 20″ wheels and three-season tires (Vivaldi would not be pleased with that concept), but the SRT’s chassis is so well sorted, the power reservoir so deep, instant and controllable, that you can drive this monster like you stole it without an electronic safety net—and not die. Simply steer with your right foot.

Muscle car aficionados know the drill. When you enter a sharp turn, throw the wheel hard over and floor it. As the rear tires spin and the back end drifts sideways, apply the appropriate amount of opposite lock with the steering wheel. Then ease off the gas, let the back end ease into line and keep on going. If it’s good enough for The General Lee, it’s good enough for the SRT.

Of course, Chrysler had to sacrifice a significant measure of the donor car’s ride comfort. And? The supremely-engined 300C SRT-8 is aimed at g-force junkies and serious stunters. They’d consider it a badge of honor if a pothole knocked a filling loose. Alternatively, you can dismiss a rough section of road by applying max power and dryquaplaning over irregularities.

I don’t mean to leave you with the impression that the Chrysler 300C SRT-8 is all about raw power. It’s about raw power AND satellite radio. And a 180 mph speedo, sports seats, a fearsome front spoiler, an integrated rear wing and the usual trim upgrades and performance badgery. Other than that, the 300C SRT-8 is the same gangsta-style luxobarge that’s wowed press and punters alike.

Which is no bad thing. With the addition of a glorious, pumped-up Hemi and vastly improved driving dynamics, the 300C SRT-8 transforms a great car into an instant (though proletariat) classic. If you’re a horsepower headcase on a budget, go on. You know you want to.

The 300C was built for a drive-by shooter. Its narrow, high-set windows look more like gun slits than casements. Its gigantic "egg crate" prow projects a distinct air of physical menace. Slab sides, sharp creases and sheer bulk complete the "urban assault vehicle" design theme. Not to put too fine a point on it, what player wouldn't want to roll up in a car with such stylish malevolence?

The C's gang-banger demeanor may shock delicate sensibilities, but its appearance shouldn't come as a surprise. Blacks have long been the engine of US culture; the extension of their influence into the automotive arena is both logical and welcome. Drawing on hot rod and street culture, Haitian-born designer Ralph Gilles has introduced vitality to a sector stultified by the inexorable rise of the SUV. Older buyers won't get it, but Gen Y will tell you straight up: the 300C is all that. Props to Gilles. Props to Chrysler for letting the man do his thing. But what's really amazing is that the 300C isn't an empty style statement like the ridiculously under-engined Prowler or the minivan-in-drag PT Cruiser. It's a complete package, with all the space, power and price it needs to win a wider audience. Let's start with the final frontier…

While tree huggers continue their holy quest to yank drivers from their gas-guzzling SUVs and shoehorn them into smaller, more fuel-efficient cars, Americans aren't buying it. Literally. The vast majority of US consumers (who are vast in and of themselves) equate interior volume with safety, luxury, class and comfort. They're not wrong and they're not afraid to buy vehicles that reflect their aspirations. The 300C's massive crib will delight the masses. Super-sized drivers have a new place to call home. Backseat passengers get 40.2" of legroom, 38" of head space and 57.7" shoulder sprawl. For the math-aversive, that's more lebensraum than a BMW 7-Series.

Better yet, the C's cavernous cabin continues the glorious Audification of US car interiors. Gilles' crew has blended chrome, mock tortoise shell and leather to create an understated yet elegant chill-out room. The dash's four central dials – complete with polished metal bezels, tapered needles and classic typography – are Breitling bling. The switchgear is tactile, functional and discreet. Taken as a whole, the 300C is a deeply funky neo-retro masterpiece.

This particular piece of automotive art weighs in at 4046lbs. That's a lot of art. Good thing the C's got a lot of power. More specifically, there's a 5.7-liter HEMI V8 lurking in the engine bay. With 340hp and 390ft.-lbs. of torque on tap, and a Mercedes E-Class autobox swapping cogs, the C is an effortless cruiser. Better yet, the HEMI's trick MDS (Multi-Displacement System) helps the fab four-door realize over 20 mpg– provided you baby the go pedal. If you don't… Chrysler claims the C blasts from zero to sixty in 6.3 seconds. That would be sufficiently rapid to keep pace with a Porsche Boxster. Wrong. My stopwatch clocked the C doing the sprint in 5.6. That's faster than a Boxster S. The company reckons the C can crack the ¼ mile in 14.1 seconds. If so, the 300C is quicker than a 350Z (14.3 secs.). Word!

Needless to say, the S and Z would crucify the C in a corner. Any corner. But hey, Chrysler's HEMI-powered beast is a luxury leviathan, not a sports car. Nor could you call it a sports sedan. Truth be told, the C is a squealing pig around bends. Although its rear multi-link suspension was lifted from its German cousin, the 4150lbs. C has none of the E's poise or flair through the twisties. Even worse, Chrysler's engineers have de-tuned the system to produce the same sloppy, bouncy, squishy ride as a Lincoln Town car. It's sick – and not in a good way. Strangely, the C's remote control ride fails to smooth-away lumps and bumps; making it the worst of both worlds.

Potential customers won't notice a thing. They'll be seduced by the big Chrysler's style, speed and space. Anyway, the 300C costs $33k. At that price, you can take the car to a tuner and get the ride tweaked to your liking. Of course, 300C buyers are far more likely to spring for low profile tires, killer dubs, TV, refrigerator-sized sub-woofers and a custom paint job. And you know what? It's the right thing to do.