But then, that’s not the point. 60 mpg is the point. To this effect, Hyundai pulls out all the stops to hit that magic number. The Eon’s puny 814 cc motor is a four-cylinder Hyundai “Epsilon” with one cylinder lopped off. Three cylinders, a single overhead camshaft, a nine-valve head and a lowly 6000 rpm redline may not sound sexy, but it puts out a class-leading 55 horsepower. Only blown SMARTs and sportsbikes make more out of so little.  And they all cost more.

Think the Chevy Spark is light? The Eon tips the scales at well under 1,600 pounds. The chassis is a cut-down i10/Santro unibody, with two inches lopped off the roof, hips and tips. The crash structure is shrink-wrapped around the engine, and even the front engine mount goes MIA in the interest of clearing space for the lower crash bar. The suspension is likewise pared down to a bare minimum, built out of plumbing supplies and angle-bar. I do like the beefy front anti-roll bar, which dispenses with needless end-links and does double duty as a secondary control arm. Like your motors quiet? Tough luck. Between the single catalytic converter and the muffler, there’s nothing but straight pipe and snorting three-pot noise.

But let’s not forget, this is a Hyundai. That means that no matter how cheap the car is, at least it looks good. Boy does it ever look good. Forget the fact that it’s rolling on shopping cart casters, (for the morbidly curious, 155/70R13 is par for the class) just look at those curves. Years after Chris Bangle’s retirement, someone finally gets flame-surfacing right. And for a car that costs half-as-much as a Honda Fit, the fit and finish is astonishing. The interior is likewise a fascinating study in dressing up the dour, with curvaceous design cues putting other entry-level cars to shame.

Well, if your other choices were twenty year old Daewoos and Suzukis, you’d certainly feel the same way like we do.

Against expectations, the Eon drives rather nicely. Not big car nice, but well enough. Engine and road noise aren’t intrusive, and there’s no whistling over the A-Pillars at speed. Despite the puny tires, it tracks straight and true at 90 mph, as long as there are no crosswinds. That large anti-roll bar keeps body roll to a minimum, and the steering is pleasant. The small size and nimble handling allow the Eon to hold its own when dicing with the swarms of thumper motorbikes infesting our roads in dry weather.

Hit a deep pothole hard enough and you’ll remember you’re in a tin box, but over waves and crests, it’s as well-controlled as a Spark and possibly better than the boingo-boingo Accent. It also brakes better than the Spark and has a gear shift that doesn’t feel like stirring a pot of rubber bands, despite the missing engine mount.

Unfortunately, the pedal box is too cramped for heel-and-toe and dropping clutch without bogging is tricky. With the first two gears topping out at 22 and 40 mph, you’ll be doing a lot of clutchwork to get moving, especially uphill.

Compared to the Eon, the Spark is a top-fuel dragster, but the Eon’s lightness pays dividends in handling and economy. Better yet, it shades the Chevy in terms of legroom and trumps it in terms of cargo space. You’re still not fitting that keg of beer back there, but it gets close.

Maybe America isn’t ready for a car that takes nearly twenty seconds to hit sixty and is narrow enough to park on a bicycle rack. Maybe America would feel short-changed by a car that tops out at a mere ninety miles an hour. Maybe America wouldn’t buy a car available exclusively with a stick (or maybe they would).  ABS? EBD? DSC? STFU. The only safety feature you get is a driver’s airbag

But compared to the likes of the Maruti Alto or Tata Nano, the Eon is posh, spacious and wonderfully refined. Better yet, it costs less than a Chevrolet Spark and delivers real world economy between 50-60 mpg. But not at 80 mph, where you’ll be lucky to hit 40 mpg. Speed kills – pesos in your wallet.

That doesn’t matter. What matters is that third-world drivers have a way to get from Manila to Angeles City comfortably without breaking the bank. Out here, the big 8-0 is measured in metric units, specifically kilo-.

Saves a lot of gas, that way.

Niky Tamayo is Test Drive Editor at kotse.com, one of the leading car sites in the Philippines

Hyundai’s press materials list the 2012 Azera’s competitors as “…traditional large sedan sales leaders such as Maxima, Lacrosse, Avalon and Taurus.” But those cars were on the minds of exactly no one at the Las Vegas launch of the 2012 Azera. Only the Lexus ES350, the market’s leading 4-wheeled sensory deprivation tank, was on the lips of the assembled journos when talking about the Azera’s competition. Hyundai didn’t give us much time with the car, but one thing was clear.

The Azera is still not a match for the Lexus ES350. To be sure, the Azera is competitive with the “Big Four” full-size sedans mentioned above. But a loaded Azera, at $36,825, is only $775 less than the base price of a Lexus ES350. Hyundai can compare this car to the Taurus and Lacrosse as much as they want, but the public at large, looking superficially at the pricing structure (base price is $32,825, including destination. The Technology package, the car’s sole option, commands a $4,000 premium), and Hyundai’s newly minted premium image, will inevitably compare this car to the big front-drive Lexus.

When they do, they are going to be disappointed. The Lexus cabin is as quiet as Yankee Stadium was when Lou Gherig gave his final address. At 80 mph, the Azera lets in a staggering amount of wind noise, and dropping down to the double nickel only remedies this slightly. The Azera’s wind noise issue left the biggest impression on me, overshadowing all of the car’s other attributes – not a good sign in a segment that privileges isolation from the road above almost everything else. The interior, while more modern looking than the Lexus, isn’t a match for the ES350’s cabin, which is a superlative experience, “rebadged Camry” comments be damned. The quality of the Azera’s materials still feels a grade below the Lexus – eyeing the slightly wonky fit of one interior panel, my driving partner noted that when it comes to the ES “this is what you don’t get with that extra few grand you spend”.

It was difficult to glean any serious driving impressions of the Azera. We drove it on the exact same pin-straight, baby-bottom-smooth Nevada highways that we did with the Genesis Coupe. And that was it. One Hyundai PR rep asked me if I was even going to write about the Azera, offering me the chance to drive a Genesis Coupe 2.0T on the way back. Hyundai CEO John Krafcik, who rode in the back seat while I drove home from the track, wouldn’t even give me a firm sales number for the car – in fact there was no quantitative number mentioned whatsoever. Apparently, allocation for the United States depends on sales of the Azera in South Korea – a market where the car has always done well – but this hardly seems like a vote of confidence for the Azera’s prospects over here. My 45 minute drive under ideal road and weather conditions was not adequate to get a real sense of the car.

In its home market of Korea, the Hyundai Grandeur (as it’s known) has traditionally been something of a status symbol, driven by politicians, business leaders and other members of Korea’s elite. In America, the car has always been something of an oddity, whether it was sold as the gaudy, baroque XG350 or the previous generation Azera, an elegant if underwhelming sedan that made a great rental car. The lack of any confidence in a public sales target, let alone any serious seat time for us journalists, suggests that Hyundai has low expectations for this car, and that it will remain an oddity that consumers overlook in favor of the cheaper Sonata or the flashier Genesis.

The Azera is a nice car, even if it’s priced a bit too close to the Lexus ES. On the other hand, it’s priced smack dab in the middle of the Maxima, Lacrosse, Avalon and Taurus, and has a number of distinct advantages over the competition; it lacks the annoying MyFordTouch system of the Taurus, is a more civilized car than the Maxima, is more engaging to drive than the Lacrosse and the Avalon and gets better fuel economy than any of them; 20/29 mpg with a combined rating of 23 mpg from its 293-horsepower 3.3L V6 engine. Positioned as the next step up from a Sonata (which can only be ordered with a 4-cylinder engine), Hyundai justifies the $32,000 starting price by claiming that the 2012 Azera comes with far more standard equipment than the outgoing model’s top trim level. The Azera has lots of content; Hyundai’s BlueLink telematics system, a 7-inch LCD screen, navigation, a rear-view camera and heated seats front and rear are all standard. The Technology package adds a full-length glass sunroof, parking sensors, a power tilt and telescoping wheel, 19” wheels and rear sunshades among other items.

While Hyundai had a media blitz for the Azera at this past weekend’s Academy Awards (and a media driving impressions embargo that lifted immediately afterwards), their sales strategy seems unusually tepid for a normally aggressive company. Initial impressions of the car seem to align with our usual take on Hyundai vehicles – a solid value choice, better than most of the field but not quite a segment leader. It’s possible that with South Korea taking much of the volume, Hyundai can move a relatively small number of Azeras  Stateside without having to worry about big sales volumes – or dumping their inventory into fleets, where nearly half of full-size cars end up.

“If you want a Veloster Turbo,” quipped Hyundai CEO John Krafcik, at September’s launch of Hyundai’s oddball, front-drive Veloster hatchback, “you can buy one right now. It’s called the Genesis Coupe.” The Veloster Turbo ended up materializing at the 2012 Detroit Auto Show – and so did a new Genesis Coupe. Apparently, Hyundai never planned on making a Veloster Turbo until after the car’s launch. But they did plan on a refreshed Genesis Coupe, and a brawnier Veloster means that the Genesis gets to move up in power and price.

Gone are the Coupe’s sleek, almost generic lines up front, replaced by an aggressive, open-mouth design that looks like, you guessed it, the Veloster. Unfortunately, the Genesis Coupe also gets clear “Altezza” tail lights. Initial photographs elicited a groan from myself and others, who liked the “grown up” styling of the Genesis Coupe, but in the flesh, the new look works quite well, adding some character to a car that many criticized as looking derivative.

Substantial powertrain upgrades should delight anyone with a pulse. The formerly wimpy turbocharged 4-cylinder engine gets a boost from 210 horsepower and 223 lb-ft to 274 horsepower and 275 lb-ft of torque while the 3.8L V6 is up to 348 horsepower and 295 lb-ft of torque from 306 horsepower and 266 lb-ft. The two powerplants can run on regular or premium gas, but 87 octane will take the power down to 260 horsepower and 260 lb-ft for the 2.0T . For the V6, 87 octane will result in outputs of 344 horsepower and 292 lb-ft. Hyundai also claims that fuel economy is up for the 2.0T, 20/31 mpg for the auto and 21/30 mpg for the manual. The V6 rates 18/28 mpg for the auto and 18/27 mpg for the manual).

As a charter member of the Normally Aspirated Snobs Club, I was taken aback with how lovely the revised turbo 4-banger is. The 2.0T is still not that quick, but it now has enough power to be satisfying, and the boost comes on in a very linear, lag-free fashion, with peak torque generated at 2000 rpm. On the other hand, the V6 engine, which delivers lots of quantitative performance but little in the way of qualitative excellence. There’s nothing wrong with the engine per se; it delivers lots of power at a moment’s notice, but wringing out the 2.0T engine proved to be more fun on the street, while the 3.8 was perhaps better suited to the 1.5 mile road course, if only because it allowed for fewer shifts on the tight, technical circuit.

The drive to the Spring Mountain Motorsports Ranch was conducted in a 3.8L V6 Track model with an 8-speed automatic transmission – the heaviest car in the lineup. The 3,600 lb car “didn’t feel like it had 348 horsepower” according to my co-driver, and while it wasn’t slow by any means, the Genesis Coupe felt like it could have benefited from lap-band surgery. Even the lightest Genesis Coupe, a base model 2.0T, weighs 3,362 lbs, a not insignificant figure for a small sports coupe. The porky package is an inevitable consequence of sharing a platform with a large luxury sedan, but with the 2800 lb Scion FR-S around the corner, a whole new generation of drivers are about to feel what lightweight sports cars are all about.

The 8-speed auto worked well, with crisp quick shifts when using the paddle shifters and a pleasant, seamless feel in normal situations. We also got to try out the 6-speed manual gearbox in both the 2.0T (on the street) and the 3.8 R-Spec (on the track). The stick shift feels similar to other Hyundai models, with a vague shifter and a too-soft clutch that feels as if there’s a leak in the hydraulic lines. Hyundai managed to get so much right with the driving dynamics of this car, yet their treatment of the car’s manual gearbox stands as a glaring oversight for an otherwise competent performance car.

The test route’s marble-smooth roads gave little opportunity to evaluate the Genesis Coupe’s ride quality. One gremlin that was immediately evident was wind noise. At 80 mph, it became excessive, with most of it seeping in through the A-pillar. The interior, while better than before, is still largely composed of hard plastics that aren’t the most impressive in the business (though competitors like the Chevrolet Camaro and Ford Mustang are hardly any more impressive). An addition for 2013 is a series of three gauges in the center stack that displays fuel consumption, torque, boost (on the 2.0T) and oil temperature – the gauges may look cool initially, but the novelty wears off fast.

While there were roughly 8 cars available to drive on the road course, only one was a 2.0T Despite sampling both trim levels, I felt little difference between the “Track” and “R-Spec” models. Both models get bigger sway bars, 4-piston Brembo Brakes (13.4″ rotors up front, 13″ in the rear), adjustable camber bolts (that can be installed by the owner, and allow as much as 1.5 degrees of negative camber), and get 19” wheels. The Track Package comes with a higher grade of standard equipment and a spoiler on 3.8 models. The R-Spec, which I spent most of my time in, is more Spartan. I decided to go out with an instructor riding shotgun- even after a year of karting and a year of ice racing (with podiums in both series) my driving needs work. The stakes are higher when driving a brand new $28,750 3.8 R-Spec versus a 125 cc TAG kart, or a $500 BMW E30.

What makes the Genesis Coupe such a rewarding track car are the little details – the important kind that won’t impress anybody on web forums but will make your track experience more enjoyable. The seats are comfortable, and allow you to get a perfect driving position, with your elbows bent and your hands at 9 and 3, without sacrificing any visibility or comfort. The pedals allowed for flawless heel-toe downshifts even with my size 12 feet. The steering is heavy, well-weighted and provides ample feedback while the brakes (even the standard ones on the R-Spec) resisted fade and provided a consistent pedal feel. I kept the stability control on during the session, but could still use the throttle to adjust the direction of the car; not in a heroic, tail out fashion, but enough that it would make my times faster were anyone timing me. Despite the noticeable heft, body roll is well controlled and the car’s not insignificant curb weights become a secondary concern on the track. The 3.8L had plenty of useable power on the tight circuit, but the 2.0T did require more shifting to stay in the power band. The Genesis Coupe seems like it would make a great learning tool for anyone interested in seriously honing their driving skills, rather than just a toy for those who want to brand themselves as a car enthusiast to their Facebook friends.

To make room in the pricing structure for the Veloster Turbo the Genesis Coupe gets a price bump of about $2,000. The base car is now  $24,250, with an 8-speed automatic costing an extra $1,250. A 2.0T R-Spec will run $26,500, while a 3.8 R-Spec will set you back $28,750. An automatic 3.8 R-Spec rises to $32,000, with a loaded track model retailing for $34,250. The price may have gone up, but the Genesis continues to slot between the Mustang/Camaro V6 on the low end, and the Nissan 370Z on the high end. It’s difficult to imagine many buyers cross-shopping the Pony cars with their import competition, as the two flavors are as distinct as chocolate and vanilla.

Making direct comparisons between the revised Genesis Coupe and the competition would also be difficult. Press trips like these give us an early look at new vehicles, but under carefully choreographed circumstances.  This event, from the long, straight stretches of highway to the specially designed track sessions provided gratis tell us what Hyundai wants us to know about the car, and nothing more. In that context, the Genesis Coupe seems promising. Compared to a Camaro or Mustang V6, the driving dynamics seem more engaging (and feel more at home for someone like myself, who grew up with imports rather than muscle cars) and the whole package is attractive and affordable enough for the everyman. But I’d prefer to reserve final judgment until I can drive the Genesis Coupe in an environment full of potholes, traffic jams and real world fuel economy observations – the kind of driving that we all face once the afterglow of a track day has faded.

At $66,900 the 2012 Hyundai Equus is the most expensive Korean car I’ve ever driven.

Having driven a 2007 Hyundai Santa Fe during my college years (and subsequent Hyundai products as part of my professional duties), I’ve seen first hand the progression of their products from plausible alternative to Japanese and American products to a purchase that one can be proud of. Considering that a decade ago my parents had a Kia Sedona – a lumbering hippopotamus of a car with an interior that Geely would find embarrassing – the progression of Korean cars is even more impressive.

We all know the “story” (to use a dreadful marketing term) of the Equus: It represents Hyundai’s attempt at a truly premium car outside of Korea and it comes with a free iPad. Comparisons to European luxury cars have been made by other outlets, but to paraphrase Katt Williams, “yeah, it do look like a Bentley…until a Bentley pull up.” Nevertheless, if God blessed you with a Hyundai Equus, you’re doing just fine.

For 2012, the Equus gets Hyundai’s Tau V8, displacing 5.0L and putting out 429 horsepower and 376 lb-ft of torque. Does it feel appreciably different than the 2011 model’s 4.6L Tau V8 that made 385 horsepower and 333 lb-ft? Not at all. I got the chance to drive the Genesis sedan with both the Tau 5.0 and the Lambda V6 that made 333 horsepower and 291 lb-ft of torque back-to-back in June of 2011 and I couldn’t even tell the difference there.

Equus owners will feel the same way about 0-60 times as hedge fund king Steven A. Cohen feels about paying $100,000 for a dead shark carcass – both figures are “inconsequential”. The Equus lets one simply waft down the road in near silence. Stepping on the accelerator to unleash all 429 horsepower would simply be vulgar and unseemly in our Equus Ultimate Edition, which came in a four-seat configuration clearly developed with the sole purpose of ferrying South Korean chaebol executives around Seoul while completely isolating them from the outside world. Like the Town Car Signature L, the front passenger seat can be moved forward and titled forward 45 degrees via controls on the passenger seat and on the rear center console itself. A power collapsible footrest for the rear seats can also be summoned, allowing for a Business Class-like experience for the rear seat passenger.

Fortune’s cruel machinations meant that I didn’t have a driving partner for the one car where I would rather be driven in, in the style of Freiherr Schmitt. Instead, I drove a freeway loop as well as along the Las Vegas strip in near silence, as the Equus filtered out everything else occurring in the outside world. The car soaks up the bumps, has plenty of power and the typical numb Korean steering and slightly spongy brakes are also present. Some have criticized the navigation and stereo system menus for being overly complex, but I had no problem operating either function, including while driving.

Where the Equus falls short is feeling like a truly “premium” car. Everything inside, from the knobs to the dash materials to the gauges, felt like an improved version of the switch gear, plastics and leather in my Santa Fe. That’s fine for a $40,000 Genesis, but on a nearly $70,000 ultra-luxury car, it’s not going to hold up. Sure, it’s not necessarily a “bad” interior, but a 2012 Audi A8 carries a $11,850 price premium and has a cabin that utterly shames the Equus in terms of visual and tactile appeal, not to mention all-wheel drive and massive snob appeal.

The peerless ride quality, middling interior quality and most of all, the understated aesthetics brings to mind the now departed Town Car. It wasn’t the flashiest, best built or most advanced luxury car on the market, but if you ever saw a black Town Car outside a fancy department store, expensive restaurant or government office, you knew that somebody important was nearby. Ford and Cadillac have put forth some poor replacements for the Town Car in an attempt to capture its livery car customers, but I think the Equus would not only excel in this field, but also offer a viable luxury option for the quietly affluent – the sort who would have eschewed the opulent European offerings for a Town Car in the first place.

Editor’s note: be aware that the images are extremely large, in order to show off TTAC’s rare opportunity for amazing photo shoot locations.

What makes a flagship? It’s a question that gets to the heart of one’s philosophy as a car reviewer, and no better example exists to explore the issue than Hyundai. Here in the US, Hyundai’s unquestionable flagships are the large, rear-drive Genesis and Equus, well-equipped traditional luxury bruisers at a value price. And though these plush-but-understated cars sell well enough in these economically uncertain times (and they certainly help Hyundai embarrass the likes of Cadillac, which still lacks a true, large, rear-drive flagship barge), they don’t completely fit with the brand values that Hyundai has ridden to prominence across the globe. They’re not wildly efficient, they lack Hyundai’s dramatic “fluidic sculpture” design language, and they’re dreadfully conventional in light of Hyundai’s professed mission to promote “New Thinking, New Possibilities” in the automotive space. Indeed, they’re almost the last throwbacks to Hyundai’s old image of slightly stodgy cars that simply beat the competition hollow on value.

But if we look past the undeniable market logic to offering the Genesis and Equus in the US, it becomes clear that Hyundai has another flagship that almost perfectly captures the reasons the Korean brand has become such a force in the global car business in recent years. Though it might not be the right flagship for the US market, the Hyundai i40cw is far closer to representing the platonic ideal of Hyundai’s brand than any other car the brand offers. And as such it’s also just a damn good car.

Larger than Elantra but slightly smaller than Sonata (neither of which is available as such in Europe), the i40 is the largest family car offered by Hyundai in continental markets (Genesis is sold there only in Coupe form). And as if to confirm the model’s European focus, the i40 has been launched first as the slickly-styled wagon you see here, although a sedan version will launch next year. Based on the Sonata’s platform, the i40 is 5 cm shorter and has a 2.5 cm shorter wheelbase, bringing it more in line with the European D-Segment than America’s voluminous crop of family sedans. Still, the quarters are far from cramped; though the sleek roofline emphasizes style over space, there’s plenty of room for two six-footers in the backseat and less claustrophobia than you might think. Though clearly aimed at Europe, the i40cw isn’t fundamentally doomed to stay there.

The i40cw’s exterior styling is, in this reviewer’s opinion, the best example yet of Hyundai’s distinctive design language, and the car stands out even among the slickest of Euro-confections. But such determinations are fundamentally subjective; the interior of the i40 is much easier to praise in a purely objective manner. Though the design is not a major departure from the Sonata’s, it’s a little more expressive and gives a much higher impression of quality. Center instrument panel controls are more tightly clustered to create room for the larger display screen, and the design eliminates much of the Sonata’s cheaper looking and feeling materials. This pattern continues throughout the i40′s cabin, with great swaths of solidly-located, soft-touch plastics accented by minimal amounts of relatively high-quality faux-aluminum. In comparison with the brand-spankety new Euro-spec Volkswagen I drove in my second week in Europe (look for a review of that very soon), the i40 meets and in some respects even exceeds what you find in Euro-market benchmark vehicles.

As might be guessed from exterior images, outward visibility is somewhat compromised in the i40, especially in blind spots and the rear-view. But the slightly more compact dimensions and a suite of electronic gizmos that might seem like overkill in a car of this class more than overcome any downsides. Forward vision is excellent, and as I learned during a pitch-black ascent of an alpine pass, fully automatic headlights, which sense obstacles one either side of the car’s hood and adaptively add illumination where needed, keep the driver well-appraised of any obstacles and help navigate narrow roads and tunnels with ease. Parking sensors and a backup camera make parking a snap, even in spots and garages built for cars much smaller than the i40. Add an excellent navigation system (which need only update its information for Italian roads), and comfortable (if somewhat lacking in side bolstering) seats, and the i40 makes for a near-perfect European road trip vehicle.

Further making the case for its touring capabilities, as well as exemplifying Hyundai’s emphasis on efficiency, our 1.7 liter diesel drivetrain matched with a superb six-speed transmission kept the hits coming (if any part of the i40 should come to the US but probably won’t, it’s this slick six-cog box). Though making only 136 HP, Hyundai’s shockingly refined oil-burner churns out a far more respectable 243 lb-ft of torque, and hauls the 3,500-ish lb i40 to 100 km/h (~60 MPH) in a respectable 10.6 seconds. Though not fast by US standards, and demanding of a bit of gear-rowing to keep up a brisk pace, performance is more than adequate for a family car of its class. Let’s just say I had no problem cruising at  175 km/h (108 MPH) on Germany’s unlimited autobahns (although revs were a bit high at that speed), and managed to easily snag a speeding ticket after forgetting that Austria’s autobahns are not similarly lacking speed limits.

More importantly in countries where the i40 cost nearly €100 to fill with diesel, efficiency is exemplary. At 140 km/h (~86 MPH), where the i40 seems most comfortable making rapid touring progress, the onboard computer clung tenaciously to a 6 liters/100km readout (39.2 MPG), and shorter bursts on the German autobahn only brought it as low as 6.5 l/100km. Moreover, on interurban “B Roads,” mileage improved to between 5 and 5.5 l/100km (as good as 47 MPG), and thanks to the equipped “BlueDrive” technology (mostly a smooth stop-start system, as low-rolling-resistance tires were replaced with winter rubber), urban observed economy didn’t take much of a hit. We weren’t able to do any remotely scientific efficiency testing, but based on my impressions, this is a car that Hyundai could almost advertise in the US as a “40 MPG anywhere” family car. Suffice to say, we toured from Munich into the depths of Austria’s Salzkammergut, to Vienna, to Venice, back to Austria (including a side trip involving the afore-mentioned nighttime alpine ascent) and on through to Munich on less than two tanks of diesel.

Dynamically, the trip was far from a thrill-fest, as even Hyundai’s European offerings slightly lag the established competition in ride and handling. But compared to US-market Hyundai’s it’s still a big improvement: the suspension is more planted and the steering more feelsome than any US-spec Sonata. Conveniently light around town, the steering firms up nicely as you push on, but ultimately the i40 feels more comfortable making efficient rather than frantic pace. The nose is quite heavy thanks to the diesel lump, and the front suspension could use a bit more damping, or possibly a mild sport mode just to firm things up a little when the mountain roads call you onwards. But ultimately the engine delivers its torque in a fairly utilitarian manner, and in concert with a undertuned suspension, attempts at Alpine hoonery are soon abandoned in favor of gawking at the spectacular views. But for a visiting American, the i40 never ceased to feel like a competent, comforting ally in everything from cramped cities to unlimited autobahns.

In short, the i40 is not only a near-ideal family touring car for exploring the European continent, but I also came away with the impression that it’s Hyundai’s spiritual flagship. Expressive good looks on the outside meets a Winterkorn-scaringly high quality interior. Instantly-at-your-ease performance meets great fuel economy. Boatloads of sensible technology meets smart packaging and a unique aesthetic. Which leaves only Hyundai’s most traditional brand value: value. And here too, the i40cw lives up to its ascendant brand’s formula for success. Our “Style”-trimmed, 1.7 CRDi BlueDrive with “Plus Package” and Navigation costs a whisker over €33,000… but don’t go calculate that directly into dollars, as purchasing power adjustment puts the dollar and Euro on similar footing, practically speaking. A mid-trim Passat “Comfortline” TDI wagon with none of the Hyundai’s tech options costs about the same in Germany, offering a little more power, a little less (rated) efficiency, and (absent optional trims) less of a an impression of interior quality or slick exterior looks. In other words, the i40cw is a rolling object lesson in the priorities that Hyundai has ridden to world-class status, and the brand’s truest flagship.

Hyundai Germany provided the vehicle, insurance and one (expensive) tank of diesel for this review.

In my mind, the Phaeton was doomed to failure when VW decided to equip their new full-on luxury sedan with a full-sized price tag. Instead of following the same model, Hyundai stayed true to their value roots and created a luxury sedan with a Hyundai-sized price tag with the Genesis 3.8 and 4.6. What could be next from the boffins in Korea? The Genesis 5.0 R-Spec, a value-priced performance luxury sedan of course.

From the outside, the Genesis (in all trims) strikes most of the right cords with luxury shoppers that prefer flowing lines to sharp creases. While previous products from Korea have been more imitation than innovation, the Genesis both deviates from the theme yet clearly draws inspiration from Lexus, BMW and Mercedes. Unlike some Kias we could mention, the overall look is distinctive enough (in my mind) that nobody would confuse it for anything else on the road. Neither however, would the casual observer ever confuse it for a Hyundai if it didn’t have the stylized H logo on the trunk. Styling mission accomplished (but like many buyers, I might remove that H badge when I got it home).

Of course, we’re here to talk about the performance part of the equation. The 5.0 R-Spec is an all-new trim in the Genesis family. AMG and M have little to worry about however as the Genesis 5.0 as Hyundai has no intention at present to compete head on with the balls-out performance sedans from Germany. So what is an “R-Spec”? Think Audi S rather than RS. While there is little outside to differentiate the 5.0 from its lesser models, a closer look reveals unique wheels, lower profile rubber, and upgraded brakes. Also new for 2012 are some new headlamps with a distinctive LED accent strip, new bumpers with integrated exhaust (ala the LS460) and new power-folding mirrors. The real change however, is under the hood where an all-new 429HP 376 lb-ft 5.0L direct injection V8 is mated to an all-new 8-speed automatic transmission. While that sentence sounds right at home in a review about a new Mercedes E550 or BMW 550i, the novelty in the room is that we’re talking about a Hyundai. This new engine and new transmission (the rest of the Genesis line-up also receives the 8-speed transmission for 2012) shows just how serious Hyundai is about playing with the big boys. Readers will probably recall Hyundai recently designed an all-new 6-speed transmission, now circular-filed in favor of this new octo-cog-swapper. That’s some serious R&D spending. For those who enjoy gear counting, note that this makes the 5.0 R-Spec one cog ahead of Mercedes.

If we digress for a moment, an open question to our readers from me: how much does the price tag change your perception of a car, all things being the same? Sound out in the comment section below.

On the inside, the Genesis R-Spec wears the same duds as the other Genesis models except that the color selection boils down to black or black: black-on-black dash, black faux wood and black seats with black carpet. The overall monochromatic theme struck me as an odd choice as I found it cheaper looking to my eye than the Genesis 3.8/4.6 models with the two-tone burgundy interior. Cost being a factor, the stitched pleather goodness found carefully sprinkled throughout the interior doesn’t extend to the dashboard top which looks a touch cheap when put right next to the stitched trim. Fortunately the fake wood is kept to a fair minimum and in some ways I don’t know if I mind too much as there are plenty of $100,000 luxury sedans sporting wood stained so dark it looks like plastic.

For 2012 the Genesis receives a new 3.8L V6, this time with direct-injection added to the variable valve train party. The new V6 cranks out a very respectable 333HP and 292lb-ft of twist at 6400RPM and 5100RPM respectively. The 4.6L Tau V8 is left unchanged for 2012, which seems like something of a pity since it still doesn’t benefit from direct injection. Of course the big reason for testing the mildly re-worked Genesis for 2012 is because of the new 5.0 R-Spec model, so let’s dive under that hood. The 5.0L V8 serves up 429HP at 6400RPM and 376lb-ft at 5000RPM, very healthy numbers considering it is tuned to run on regular 87 octane gasoline. Joining the new V8 is a sport tuned suspension and lower profile tires on 19-inch wheels. (The observant will note they are not any wider than the 4.6L V8’s rubbers)

Gadgets are an important part of any luxury sedan, and this is one area where Hyundai has left a few gizmos out to keep costs down. Compared to iDrive and Infiniti’s fairly slick touch screen system, Hyundai’s infotainment offering is a touch less functional and less intuitive. When pitted against Mercedes Command or Lexus’ aging system however, the Hyundai infotainment software scores highly for look and feel. Hyundai convinced Lexicon (purveyor of sound systems to Rolls Royce) to create the 528-watt, 17-speaker, 5.1-surround audio system. The stereo sounds great and the subwoofer certainly makes watching movies on the nav screen strangely entertaining, but it is a notch behind the maximum capabilities of the 1,000+ watt systems in the European competition.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Infiniti’s M can be had with more nannies than a pack of trust fund babies at the park, this is another area where the Genesis’ price point causes some compromises. The Genesis has lane departure warning but no lane departure prevention, radar cruise control but no blind spot warning system and of course it won’t park itself. Still, the gizmos Hyundai did select are a good balance in my mind. My only complaint about the cruise control system Hyundai used is that it will take you to a crawl but unlike the competition it won’t stop you or hold you at a stop. The integrated collision warning system is also a near miss for me, it’s not adjustable and by default it warns you so late by the time it beeps (faintly) and puts a small red logo in the instrument cluster (where it’s hard to see), it’s too late to do anything about the emergency.  Also on the cutting room floor sits a cooled front passenger seat, heated steering wheel, and auto up/down windows for the rear. While these omissions bothered my esteemed co-worker Michael in his first take, I actually don’t mind as most people drive solo anyway and if I’m buying the car, I care about the driver most (me) and the bargain second. Option packages are a great way to drive up costs, so Hyundai decided to leave well enough alone making the R-Spec come only fully-loaded and in truth 98% of what luxury car buyers usually buy is there, and that’s saying something.

Out on the road the Genesis 5.0’s sport tuned active suspension (by SACHS) provides a ride that is noticeably firmer than the Genesis 4.6 yet is still on the softer side of the Euro competition. If you prefer floating on a cloud, you should opt for the softer riding Genesis 4.6 (or LS460) instead. If however you like corner carving, the BMW 550i is obviously your choice. Yet strangely enough the Genesis provides a good balance between the 550i and the LS460 with impressive BMW-like thrust and grip that’s somewhere between the two and fairly on par with the M56. The Hyundai 8-speed automatic is not as smooth as the ZF 8-speed Audi and BMW employ, but it is fairly similar in feel to the Lexus unit. Yet again the need to keep costs down and options non-existent means unlike the competition there is no AWD Genesis available. Driving purists will of course scoff at my love of four-wheel propulsion, but in the wet the Genesis has trouble applying all 429 ponies.

A comparably equipped Lexus LS460 Sport or Mercedes E550 easily crest $70,000, in this light the Hyundai is a screaming deal and gives up little for the $20,000+ delta in price (other than brand). The fact that you can even mention Hyundai, Lexus, Mercedes, Audi, Infiniti and BMW in the same sentence is something to behold. Saying that the Genesis 5.0 is better than the gaggle of luxury people-schlepers is something I just can’t say, but in many areas it is quite possibly just as good and yet I find myself saying a rare thing as I handed the Genesis back: this is a car I would buy myself. And that is where it departs from the VW Phaeton in my mind; the Phaeton is just too expensive for the badge, even for me.

The question we can’t answer here at TTAC is: can Hyundai convince luxury car buyers that they can get most of the same goodies on a $46K Hyundai as a $70K German or Japanese sedan? Even if that hurdle can be jumped, will the brand whores think twice? To those adventurous car shoppers who manage to look beyond brand perception however, they will find a car maker with the best warranty in the industry making reliable cars with a smidgen of style and a ‘whole lotta’ value. What kind of buyer are you? Are you buying that LS460 because it carries a $70,000 price tag, or because you like the way it coddles you? Are you buying the BMW for the roundel or for the 0-60 time? I would posit the Hyundai does all the above minus the badge.

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

Statistics as tested

0-60: 4.9 Seconds

1/4 Mile: 13.4 Seconds @ 106 MPH

Fuel Economy: 22.4 MPG over 689 miles

Why? I never bought the hype gushing forth from Hyundai. I knew the Veloster would have the same 138-horsepower direct-injected 1.6-liter engine as the new Accent, but saddled with more curb weight (2,430-2,588 vs. 2,584-2,740 pounds). I also knew that Hyundai had yet to master the art of suspension tuning. (I’m also not buying the hype surrounding the Cadillac ATS and Scion FR-S until I have a chance to drive them.)

We already knew what the Veloster would look like. It’s a distinctive shape, made even more so by having two doors on the passenger side (the rear one “hidden”) but only one on the driver side. (I personally prefer the side with the rear door. You?) Fully loaded cars get the most attractive wheels complete with color-keyed inserts. On public streets the Veloster looks even wilder than it did at the auto shows, especially from the rear. People on the street recognized something new, and asked about the Veloster more than any other press car I’ve had. If Hyundai’s hype hadn’t persuaded journalists to expect an outstanding driving experience, this exotic shape would have.

The interior I wished for in the Accent? It’s here in the Veloster, complete with Cayennesque grab handles (that actually feel more solid here than in the Porsche), sportier upholstery, and available red/black color scheme. The designers were permitted to get a little more crazy in the sport coupe, but not to the detriment of ergonomics or good taste. The instruments are conventionally located and arranged while the center stack controls are easy to reach and operate. A seven-inch display and A/V inputs are standard, while a household-type power outlet is part of the Tech Package. Hyundai execs have personally tested the possibility of playing an Xbox in the car (while stationary). Hyundai’s new Blue Link adds some apps (like Pandora) along with OnStar-like emergency services, with an OnStar-like monthly fee after the first few months. There are also a couple of fuel economy-related games you can play, at least one of which compares the efficiency of your driving style to those of other Veloster owners.

The Veloster’s driver seat is better bolstered and more substantial than that in the Accent, if still not to the degree I’d prefer, but is similarly lacking in lumbar support. There’s only a single manual height adjustment, so the tilt of the cushion cannot be separately adjusted. But at least the steering wheel telescopes as well as tilts, unlike in the Accent. The view forward is open—you don’t sit too low in the car—the view rearward not so much thanks to a narrow, bifurcated rear window and stylishly raked C-pillars. The Tech Package with its rearview camera and rear parking sensors can come in handy. There’s enough room for heads and legs in the rear seat (adults up to 5-9 or so fit without issue) to make me wonder about the absence of a left rear door. Past three-door vehicles all ended up growing a fourth, and I would not be surprised to see history repeat itself with a future Veloster redesign. Also enough cabin width for three across in a pinch if Hyundai hadn’t designed the seat with an integral center console. Cargo volume is on the tight side, but sufficient for even sizable grocery runs.

Hyundai execs are apologetic about the Veloster’s performance, admitting that while the original concept was “eco-sport” the end result is more eco and less sport. Personally, I don’t mind limited power if the engine revs smoothly and eagerly, and the new Hyundai 1.6 does. I banged the rev limiter once because, eyes on the road, I wasn’t aware I was approaching it. As in the Accent, if anything I’d appreciate more of the good sort of noise at high rpm. Those looking for a punch in the lower back will be disappointed, though, as there’s little torque in play. Hyundai won’t confirm that a turbocharged variant is on the way to rectify this shortcoming, but one almost certainly is.

Okay, let me qualify that lack of disappointment. I was pleasantly surprised by the Veloster’s manual transmission, as its shift feel and ratios are much better than those in the Accent (though first and second remain too far apart while fifth and sixth remain too close together).

Simply put, the Veloster’s shifter and manual transmission should be in the Accent. Why Hyundai had two groups of engineers where one would have done a better job escapes me.

The ratios of the automated dual-clutch transmission, Hyundai’s first and developed in-house, are better yet. But on the road the theoretical advantages of a dual-clutch transmission fail to materialize. Shifts, though admirably smooth despite the employment of the cheaper-to-maintain dry clutches that have been such a drivability headache for Ford, are not lightning quick like those of VW’s dual-wet-clutch DSG transmission. I sense a tradeoff. Worse, acceleration feels considerably more sluggish with the DCT, even though it has a shorter final drive ratio. With no torque converter to sap the engine’s power, why might this be? City fuel economy is a bit better with the DCT (EPA city 29 MPG vs. 28), while the manual wins on the highway (40 vs. 38).

Perhaps the sluggishness of the DCT powertrain shaped my entire perception of the car. I can find no other convincing explanation for why the manual transmission Veloster felt lighter and more agile than its DCT counterpart. Okay, is it lighter, but only by 73 pounds. The Tech Package on the DCT car adds a few more, some of them possibly in its unique color-keyed wheels. Enough to make a difference? Whatever the reason, the manual transmission car felt balanced, poised, planted, and almost (but not quite) agile while the DCT car felt heavier and less willing to change directions. Unfortunately, even the manual car doesn’t feel significantly more agile than its considerably heftier arch-rival, the 3,060-pound Scion tC. Neither comes across as “tossable.” Lighter yet more communicative steering would help I the Hyundai’s case.

On the flip side, the Veloster also feels more solid than its kinship with the Accent and curb weight might suggest. Though bumps occasionally elicit sharp reactions, ride quality and noise levels are generally very livable. I’d much rather commute in the Veloster than in the bouncier Elantra sedan that provided the basis for the sport coupe’s twist-beam rear suspension.

So how much will this sporty looking, not so sporty driving Hyundai set you back? If you can live with 17-inch wheels, a steel roof, and a 196-watt, six-speaker audio system, then $18,060. The Style Package (18s, panoramic sunroof, fog lights, leather steering wheel, leatherette seat bolsters, 450-watt audio) adds $2,000. The Tech Package (color-keyed wheels, nav with rearview camera and sensors, proximity key, 115v outlet) adds another $2,000.

Compared to the Veloster with Style Package, a Scion tC checks in $755 lower, but based on TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool also includes about $600 less content. So the two end up very close in price. Which to get? The Hyundai looks more distinctive and is simply sexier, while the tC packs fifty-percent more displacement under its hood and has a roomier rear seat (but no third door to aid access to it). I enjoyed driving the tC more, but this is relative. In both cars’ defense, if you want to have considerably more fun, you’re going to have to spend considerably more money. Even a Ford Focus SE or Mazda3 is nearly $2,000 more when similarly equipped. In the other direction, an Accent SE costs about $1,500 less. For those who care about such things, the Veloster’s more stylish exterior and upgraded interior will easily be worth this premium.

So, the Veloster isn’t as fun as it looks. But its performance and handling are adequate, while its styling, feature set and price are very attractive. As-is, it will fit the bill for many sporty coupe buyers. Those who insist on go with their show needn’t despair, only patiently wait for the turbo Hyundai’s not yet talking about.

Hyundai provided the vehicle, insurance and fuel for this review during a media drive event.

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

So, what’s your checklist? If you read this site regularly, you have one: the characteristics of your ideal next car. Perhaps more than one, if you have the need or desire for more than one type of car. One of my checklists concerns my ideal compact hatch. The latest contestant: the 2012 Hyundai Accent SE.

1. Tasteful, subtly sporty exterior, with tight proportions and no extraneous details

The Mazda Protege5 that’s occupied my garage for the past eight years nailed this one. The Mazda3 that replaced it on dealer lots, not even close. The Accent SE doesn’t hook me like the P5 did, but it’s more attractive than the related sedan and, among the current small hatches, edges out the similarly-styled Ford Fiesta for the top spot thanks to crisper lines and a less swoopy, windowlette-free A-pillar. (The car does look better in person than in these photos.) Additional points to Hyundai for not overdoing the front end and designing the car to look its best without monster rims (the SE wears 16s). The exterior styling is far from stodgy, but it also works for those of us well out of our teens.

2. The same inside the car, with solid construction and good ergonomics

I don’t want to drive an appliance, but I don’t want to inhabit a video game or science fiction fantasy, either. Looking at some key design element, I don’t want to constantly wonder, “What were they thinking?” This rules out the Civic, Mazda3, and MINI, among others. The Accent isn’t far off my ideal, but falls short thanks to the lingering econo-car mindset evident in the silver-painted trim on the doors and the thin, light gray (why?) fabric on the seats. Ford does much better with these bits, while also offering more solidly bolstered buckets. On the other hand, the Accent’s instrument panel is a keeper. The plastic is all the hard stuff, but it feels solid and doesn’t appear cheap. Unlike in a Fiesta or Focus, the center stack controls are easy to reach, understand, and operate.

3. A driving position that encourages an intimate connection with the car

It’s easier to describe what my ideal driving position does not include: a distant windshield, thick pillars, or small, high-mounted windows. The Accent much better than the current norm on the first and okay on the other two (though the rear window is very small). You’ll find an airier cabin in a Mazda2, but other competitors tend to rank below the Hyundai. One minor negative: unlike in the Fiesta and new Chevrolet Sonic the steering wheel does not telescope.

4. Adequate space for three pre-teen kids and a run to CostCo

The Accent’s rear seat and cargo area are no match for those of the Honda Fit and Nissan Versa, or any C-segment hatch, but are roomier than in the Fiesta. Good enough, The rear seat cushion is mounted a little too low for adult comfort, but I’d rarely have adults back there.

5. A refined, willing, sweet-sounding engine

Hyundai’s new, direct-injected 1.6-liter four-cylinder engine twists out a segment-leading 138 horsepower at 6,300 rpm. There’s noticeably more oomph than with the 120-horsepower mill in the Fiesta, much less the asthmatic 100-horsepower lump in the Mazda2. But even when saddled with a reasonably light 2,400-pound curb weight we’re still talking about the difference between very slow, sorta slow, and a touch more than adequate. With a torque peak of 123 pound-feet at 4,850 rpm, you’ll have to rev the 1.6 in all but the most casual driving. Which is okay, as Hyundai’s latest four revs smoothly and quietly. If anything, I’d like to hear more of the right sort of noise over 4,000 rpm.

6. A tight, slick, solid shifter

Unfortunately, exercising the four requires contact with the manual shifter, which avoids a failing grade thanks only to moderate throws and the ease of grabbing the desired gear. The shifter feels clunky and crunchy. It even sounds clunky and crunchy. Logitech makes better-feeling shifters—for your computer. Every car company has been engineering manual shifters since the day it was born. Tech doesn’t get any older. So why does getting the shifter right remain so hard for so many of them? Hyundai has employed a pretty good B&M unit in the Elantra Touring and the previous-generation Accent. Do the same with the new one.

On top of this, no points are awarded for fitting a six-speed transmission, even though most competitors make do with five-speeds. Here’s why:

See the nicely-spaced ratios in column A? You get them with the Accent’s six-speed slushbox. Column B is the manual. The top three gear ratios are so close together that fifth is pointless. Meanwhile, the first three gears are too far apart. Rev to the 6,300 rpm power peak in first, shift to second, and revs fall all the way to 3,400 rpm, well short of the torque peak. If this weren’t bad enough, the engine bogs momentarily following such aggressive shifts, especially if the finesse-free traction control detects a whiff of wheel slip. (There’s a solution for this last issue: turn the system off.) The power hole isn’t as deep or as broad as in the Mazda2, but only because you’ve got more engine to work with.

7. Good fuel economy

Working from home, I don’t drive much, so a small car’s fuel economy doesn’t have to clear a high bar. Anything over 29 will do, though bigger numbers earn bonus points. Hyundai worked much harder to earn these bonus points than on shift feel, with EPA ratings of 30 city and 40 highway. In suburban driving the Accent’s trip computer reported numbers as high as 48, but more typically about 37, and as low as 30 with a heavier foot and more frequent stops.

One oddity not limited to Hyundai: all of the latest B-segment cars earn similar EPA numbers to their C-segment sibs despite lower curb weights and smaller engines. What’s the deal with this? If the Hyundai Elantra can manage 29/40, then why can’t the Accent achieve 32/44? Just curious personally, though other buyers less interested in handling will find the Bs pointless.

8. Communicative steering and agile handling

For me, the primary strength of a B-segment car should be agile handling. If I wanted to feel like I was driving a big car, I’d buy a big car. (Okay, I did buy a big car, but not because I liked how it handled.)

The new Accent lacks the frisky chassis and quick, sharp, communicative steering of the Mazda2, but handles and steers better than other direct competitors with the partial exception of the Ford Fiesta. The Ford has a more solid, German-as-opposed-to-Asian feel, but softer suspension tuning. Both chassis are well-behaved, especially when hurried. Either car steers and handles better, and is much more fun to drive, than the soggy, bland appliances from Nissan and Toyota (2011 anyway; I haven’t yet driven the 2012 Yaris). The Honda Fit? While others sing its praises, I can’t get past the microvan driving position (see #3).

9. A livable ride

I used to think I wanted a bare bones car. Then I drove a Lotus Elise. Immediately afterwards the Protege5 seemed as quiet and cushy as a Lincoln Navigator. But compared to just about anything else the Mazda is rough and noisy. Though I’m not seeking a cocoon, I’d prefer a car that didn’t beat me up or assault my eardrums. The Accent does well here, bettering the larger but bouncier Elantra and nearly matching the segment-best Fiesta.

10. Good value

My wife thinks I’m cheap. But value is really my thing. I’m looking for the sweet spot in the amount of car delivered for the dollar. In contrast, B-segment buyers have traditionally been downright cheap. Seeking their nickles, the Hyundai Accent vied with the Nissan Versa for the title of America’s cheapest car.

The $9,990 special is gone, and then some, with the Accent’s redesign. The base sedan lists for $13,205, the base hatchback (now with four doors rather than two) for $13,455. And an SE like you see here? $16,555. Even with this, its most affordable model, Hyundai is now about value, not the lowest possible price.

Does the Accent deliver this value? The closest non-Korean competitor, the Ford Fiesta SE with SYNC and Sound and Sport Appearance Packages, lists for $16,990. Running both through TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool finds that the two are very closely matched in features, with a mere $15 adjustment in the Ford’s favor. So this decision is going to come down to something other than price. In the Ford’s favor we have a sportier, better-trimmed interior, a decent shifter, and a generally more upscale feel. But the Hyundai counters with a stronger engine, larger wheels (16s vs. 15s), tighter suspension tuning, and a more viable back seat. It’s a tough call that’ll come down to priorities until Hyundai fixes the shifter and interior trim (or the aftermarket does what it does best).

A Mazda2 Touring is also very close in price, listing for $125 less but ending up about $500 more after the feature-based adjustment. The Mazda is easily the best handler of the three, but is saddled with gearing that makes a weak engine feel even weaker and a more econo-car look and feel.

The problem with any of these small hatches: C-segment cars offer more power and nicer, roomier interiors with similar handling and fuel economy. A Ford Focus SE with Convenience and Sport Packages lists for $20,930. About $900 of the difference pays for additional features. The rest simply pays for more car. If you have the extra scratch, spend it. Don’t have it? See the previous paragraph.

Maybe in 2014? 

The new Hyundai Accent SE is a good car that’s painfully close to being a great one. The stuff that can’t be changed easily or cheaply is all here: tastefully attractive styling, good driving position, refined, relatively powerful engine, competent chassis. The interior trim and shifter need work, and the steering and transmission would also benefit from additional development. As-is, it seems that a light gray interior aficionado was working off a spec sheet without really understanding or caring about the goal of a driver-oriented car. The days when “GT” meant standard leather inside your Elantra aren’t quite past us. Someone who truly loves driving small hatches needs to tweak this one to look and feel more overtly sporty, communicative, and engaging (without going over the top). In Hyundai parlance, the Accent hatch needs and deserves the R-Spec treatment. Hyundai has proven itself willing and able to make improvements as quickly as the second model year. They can start here.

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

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

Recently a video surfaced from the Frankfurt Auto Show, depicting Volkswagen CEO Martin Winterkorn puzzling over the remarkable quality of Hyundai’s latest Golf competitor, the European-market i30. But if Herr Professor Dr. Winterkorn seemed perturbed, and he certainly did, it wasn’t simply because of one car, even one aimed at the heart of his empire. The i30 is simply the latest in a string of strong Hyundai products that are rapidly erasing memories of the brand’s budget-basement roots. In an industry that likes to compare itself to the fashion business, Hyundai is hot. So much so, in fact, that TTAC readers are likely beginning to tire of hearing about it.

And when brands are hot, especially on the strength of their mass-market offerings, the next logical step is to build a halo car that reflects the values that made them so popular. But Hyundai’s unconventional positioning, selling everything from a $15,000 Accent to a $60,000 Equus, and its mandate to reflect “Different Thinking” mean a traditional halo car is out of the question. Enter the Veloster. Or, as Hyundai calls it, the “reverse halo car.”

Before we get into the car itself, let’s quickly deal with Hyundai’s confounding concept of the “reverse halo.” When asked by Wards Auto if he would consider building a GT-R or Corvette fighter, Hyundai Motor America CEO John Krafcik said

I’m not saying we’d never do one, but it wouldn’t be a priority of mine. You define your brand as much by what you choose not to do as what you do. We’ve got a laser-like focus on leading the industry in fuel efficiency.

Would it be cool and fun to have a halo performance car? Yeah. But it would be expensive, and what would it really do for us?

So, to truly reflect its brand values, a Hyundai halo car would have to be efficient. To properly accent (so to speak) Hyundai’s marketing tagline, it would have to be “different” (an affordable halo car?). And to show off Hyundai’s technological prowess (to say nothing of giving Herr Winterkorn’s ulcer an honest workout), it would have to have a direct-injected engine and an available dual-clutch transmission, the euro-tech confections that VW insists Americans don’t care about. The result: an Accent-based, 40 MPG, hatchback-coupe with three forward-hinged doors that’s nothing like anything else on the market. And whatever else might be said about the Veloster, its entire concept as a halo that shines from the bottom of the model range upwards represents a bold step by the upstart Korean company (if one borrowed from the Kia Soul).

And like every good halo, the Veloster is unabashedly extroverted in its exterior styling. It’s got the motorcycle-helmet proportions of its Scion tC competitor, but brings a more compact bulldog stance and the visual dynamism of Hyundai’s “fluidic sculpture” design language to the party. Pure coupe from the driver side, the third door gives the passenger side its own unique look, while the rear offers the most striking vista of them all with its chrome center exhaust, rounded glass hatch and Ferrari-font “Veloster” badge. Love or hate the looks, it’s tough to deny that it is simultaneously recognizable as a Hundai and yet far more expressive than any other Hyundai on the market. Reverse halo mission accomplished.

Slide into the driver’s seat, and Herr Winterkorn will be reaching for the Tums again. For all the praise its products do receive, Hyundai still doesn’t get enough credit for putting out some of the most solidly-assembled interiors at the lower price points, and the Veloster carries that banner with pride. The interior’s isn’t mind-blowingly glamorous, although it is a step up from the Accent design-wise, but from the dash assembly to the knobs, everything is built with reassuring solidity and quality materials. Almost every affordable car’s interior has at least a handful of elements that betray the inevitable cost-cutting, but in the Veloster I could literally only find two points of criticism. The silver plastic door pulls were supposedly inspired by a sport bike frame, but their lack of structural integrity clearly wasn’t. Also, the door latch handles felt cheap compared to the rest of the interior. For a car that starts just over $17,000, that’s quite the achievement… and one Herr Winterkorn’s latest round of similarly-pried products don’t come close to reaching.

The centerpiece of the Veloster’s cockpit is the standard seven-inch touchscreen which can plugged into an iPod or xBox and used as a movie or video game display, or play host to the optional navigation system. But none of these reasons explain why it’s standard in Hyundai’s “reverse halo” car. Just as the Veloster is the first Hyundai to offer a dual-clutch transmission, it’s also the first model to offer the brand’s full suite of OnStar-alike telematics services. Hyundai expended the breath of many PR people in hopes of generating some enthusiasm for the three packages of services, but they seem like they will appeal far more to older buyers, who prefer the link to a “real person” rather than wrangling with a device, than to the average Veloster buyer. And none of them elevate the genre beyond the services already offered by OnStar. Furthermore, some of the Veloster’s other tech toys, like the Gracenote voice-activated mp3 management system didn’t work easily or intuitively enough to get excited about (although the optional Dimension audio system sounded great).

But who cares about tech toys? After all, we’re talking about a sporty coupe that has 138 HP to move between 2,600 and 2,800 lbs (depending on trim and transmission) of car… the real question is “how does it drive?” And the truth is that it’s nowhere near as exciting as the spec sheet might have you believe. To begin with, the engine doesn’t feel as powerful as you’d expect, thanks to the core brand value of “fuel economy leadership.” The engine feels remote, short on torque, overly throttle-mapped and generally lacks the directness that make even an underpowered car fun to drive. And that’s the weird thing: especially with the manual transmission, there’s certainly enough power to not only stick with traffic but even have some fun on a back road… the engine simply has no personality, no desire to push. It hints at  a promising growl when you open it up through the low midrange, but the enthusiasm dies in an uninspiring thrash. But hey, nobody said 40 MPG on the highway would come free.

Speaking of fuel economy, the magical 40 MPG highway rating is only available on the manual transmission version, as the extra weight of the dual-clutch box drags the rating down to 38 MPG. Which is strange, considering the DCT seems programmed to match the engine’s tuned-for-economy flavor, and from a performance perspective, it’s a poor match for the low-torque (123 ft-lbs) engine. Meanwhile, anyone choosing the manual will likely find themselves wringing out the little mill, wrecking fuel economy in the process. Still, the manual is the clear choice for a car like this, both keeping the weight to a minimum and allowing better use of the engine’s power. Which is a pity, as this car is supposed to highlight Hyundai’s use of the latest transmission technology. And the DCT works extremely well, shifting smartly but smoothly… but again, it’s best when, like Hyundai, you value fuel economy over performance.

Out on the road, the Veloster’s chassis surprises not with its sporty response, but with its refinement.  You might expect a car like this to be a blast on the twisty bits and a bear on commuter roads, but the opposite proves to be the case. Freeway cruising is far more refined and relaxed than you’d expect from a stubby B-segment coupe, as the Veloster maintains composure and comfort even across crumbling sections of Oregon highway. But when you leave the freeways and begin pushing through the tight roads that wind up the sides of the Columbia Gorge, you soon realize that the Veloster’s suspension was tuned more for ride than handling. The electric steering offers more feel than other electro-racks, but the feedback is still painfully subtle. And there’s enough vagueness and lean just off-center to make you feel like you’re piloting a larger, heavier car than you actually are. Like the engine, the chassis is hardly inept… it just lacks the directness and playful spirit that defines every fun small car ever made. And the brakes are cut from the same cloth: they work just fine, but the small pedal ha a distinctly squidgy feeling that doesn’t inspire confidence in enthusiastic driving.

An uphill stretch of road punctuated with sharp hairpins brings out the worst in the Veloster as a dynamic proposition. Lacking confidence in the brakes, you slow prematurely and then wait endlessly for the engine to develop the torque to pull you out of the corner. And in the midst of those slow, tight corners, the body roll is most pronounced and the steering is at its least tactile. It’s never a mess dynamically, but there’s no doubt that Hyundai’s chassis engineers left some jinba ittai on the table. After winding back down the hill, the road follows a river valley, flattening into rolling undulations and opening up for some faster (but still blind) corners. Here the Veloster makes the strongest case for itself as a driver’s car. Keep the engine on the boil and you can build up the pace, as the front-end bites better when loaded-up in fast corners. At this faster pace, the Veloster gels into coherent whole, flowing from corner to corner in a far more satisfying fashion. But you still can’t shake the feeling that, for such a small car, it sure doesn’t feel as lively or intuitively chuckable as you’d hope.

And here’s where Hyundai’s fresh-faced, up-and-comer status shows: anyone who has been in this industry long enough will tell you that tuning a car to the perfect balance of ride and handling takes decades of experience and institutional memory. Hyundai clearly doesn’t have that, and as a result it played it safe with the US-market Veloster , tuning it a bit too far to the side of ride comfort. And based on reviews from Old Blighty, the opposite took place in the UK-market Veloster, which appears to have been tuned too far towards the enthusiast side of the spectrum, resulting in a crashy ride. The compromise made here was probably the right one given the death of the enthusiast market in the US, but it also proves why Hyundai probably isn’t ready to go chasing the GT-Rs and Corvettes of the world.

But then, that’s why Hyundai didn’t set out to make the Veloster a true enthusiast coupe, and why Hyundai Motor America executives only roll their eyes if you ask about the 200 HP Veloster Turbo that is apparently already approved for Europe. Instead, Hyundai built a funky, distinctive and surprisingly practical little car that reflects the values it champions in this market. It may not be a born-again CRX, but it’s less gimmicky and far more refined and practical than you might expect. And, with fully-loaded examples offering navigation, a nearly all-glass roof, back-up camera, dual-clutch transmission and a grip of other goodies for just over $23,000 (base models start at about $18,000), it offers a a European-style premium subcompact flavor for relatively little money. No wonder Herr Winterkorn is worried about these guys.

Disclosure: Hyundai held the launch of the Veloster in my hometown of Portland, OR. In order to play up the “Gen Y” marketing angle, they provided three nights of free concerts and tickets to a football game at my alma mater (the University of Oregon) in addition to the usual lodging, food and drink. In other words, instead of feeling like I was tagging along on a wealthy grandparent’s vacation, as is the case on most press previews I attend, this junket felt like it was tailored specifically to me… which is a strangely flattering, if somewhat troubling feeling. Make of that what you will.

Has any car company ever improved its products at the rate Hyundai has over the past decade? Ten years ago their idea of a flagship was the fusty, faux-wood-and-chrome-encrusted XG350 fitted with a then-new 3.5-liter V6 good for 194 horsepower and EPA ratings of 16 city / 24 highway. The 2006 Azera was a much more credible competitor…for the Toyota Avalon. Even with a new 263-horsepower V6, Hyundai still didn’t pretend to have a luxury sedan fit for driving enthusiasts. For 2012, they do, with the new Genesis 5.0 R-Spec. But, as far as they’ve come, are they there yet?

The Hyundai Genesis has been available with a 4.6-liter V8 since it was introduced as a 2009 model. Reviewers found faults with the car, but I don’t recall the engine’s mere 385 horsepower being among them. Nevertheless, for 2012 Hyundai has a new 429-horsepower (at 6,400 rpm), 376 pound-feet of torque (at 5,000) 5.0-liter V8. In addition to its larger displacement, the 5.0 benefits from direct injection, which permits a bump in the compression ratio from 10.4 to 11.5:1. These specs are impressive. The Hyundai mill outputs more horses than the Porsche Panamera’s 4.8-liter V8, the 5.0-liter V8s in the Lexus IS-F and Mustang GT (unless you pony up for the BOSS), the 5.5-liter V8 being retired from various Mercedes, and the M56’s 5.6-liter V8. The 6.2-liter V8 in the Corvette kicks out a single additional horsepower.

Of course, specs are one thing, subjective impressions another. The Corvette’s LS3 powerplant lacks the refinement needed for luxury sedan duty. The Hyundai engine, in contrast, purrs with the world’s best. Though the idle’s a touch rough when first started, that’s the full extent of the eight’s lapses. Whether loafing about town or revving past 6,000 rpm, this is a very smooth engine. It’s not quiet when exercised, but the tune played by the mechanical bits and exhaust are music to any enthusiast’s ears, yet shouldn’t disturb those who simply want to relax. (In a rare attempt to hear more from the engine I drove the car with the engine cover off, but this made little difference.) When cruising, the engine is virtually silent, even at highway speeds.

For 2012, all three Genesis engines are paired with an eight-speed automatic developed by Hyundai, the first offered by a non-premium brand. The transmission performs well in that it rarely calls attention to itself. I occasionally noticed a less-than-slick downshift when slowing to a stop, a characteristic shared with the ZF eight-speed automatic. Through TrueDelta’s car reliability survey I’ve received a few complaints about such bumps in BMWs, but most drivers will neither notice nor mind. More bothersome: manually downshifting to second for a turn requires a tedious number of taps when you start out in eighth. These manual shifts could also be quicker, but given how the car likes to be driven they aren’t of much use regardless.

It wasn’t long ago that many doubted the benefits of having more than four speeds in an automatic transmission. So what’s the point of going from six to eight? First gear isn’t significantly shorter in the new transmission, but second is much more closely spaced. A shift at the 6,400 rpm power peak (the transmission isn’t always willing to go all the way to the 6,750 rpm redline) that would have dropped the engine to 3,600 rpm with the old six-speed now lands at 4,200. So full-throttle acceleration improves. Seventh is about the same as the old sixth, and the new transmission’s eighth gear is nine percent taller, for better fuel efficiency on the highway. At 80, the engine is only turning 2,000 rpm. Around town it’s often half that, with no sensation of lugging.

The EPA ratings: 16 city, 25 highway—a bit better than the far less capable XG350 of a decade ago. The trip computer reported low twenties in suburban driving and high twenties on the highway. But is it trustworthy? There’s an “eco” mode, but I noticed no difference in efficiency or powertrain behavior with it on.

Of course, luxury sedans aren’t often driven near their full potential. In more typical driving, the Genesis R-Spec impresses with the effortless ease at which it attains any speed. Such effortlessness used to justify the extra tens of thousands of dollars for a V12 over a V8.

The not-so-good not-so-news? The rest of the car. The exterior of the Genesis is easy on the eyes, and people remarked on the quality of the paint. But unlike that of other recent Hyundais, it isn’t in any way distinctive or remotely avant-garde. At NAIAS a couple of years ago I wondered why they had an Infiniti G37 among the NACOTY finalists, only to belatedly realize that the greenhouse (the lower body wasn’t visible) belonged to the Hyundai. Does the overall look draw most from Mercedes, BMW, or Lexus? Hard to say, they’re all in there. The interior is similarly conventional to a fault, and a little dated. The silver-painted buttons of the center stack are easy to understand and operate, but don’t suggest bleeding-edge tech the way the Germans’ much more complex, more highly stylized controls do. The infotainment system’s display washes out easily and often. But the 528-watt 17-speaker Lexicon audio system is the best I’ve experienced aside from the hyper-expensive B&O in the larger Audis. Most puzzling: the R-Spec’s high-mounted seats are unchanged from those in the regular Genesis. So they’re comfortable, but offer little in the way of lateral support. An older mystery: three years on Hyundai still hasn’t figured out how to fit cooling bits to the front passenger seat.

The Genesis 5.0 R-Spec’s chassis seems to have shipped at the rough draft stage. The steering is firmer than in the regular Genesis—even surprisingly tight at highway speeds—but provides more kickback than helpfully nuanced feedback. Body roll is modest, but the R-Spec doesn’t feel tied down and precise the way the best competitors do. In aggressive turns the nose wants to head for the curb, but the 245/45YR19 Bridgestone Potenza Pole Position S-04 tires [Update: a $1,400 option over the standard 235/45VR19 all-seasons] just won’t let it. Oversteer can’t be dialed in nearly as progressively or intuitively as in a BMW or GM vehicle with right-wheel-drive. Perhaps for this reason Hyundai (like Infiniti with the similarly-afflicted G37) opted for a crude fix: prod the V8 to kick out the tail and the stability control cuts in early and hard. Sticky treads notwithstanding, the Genesis 5.0 R-Spec is most in its element when traveling through broad sweepers or, better yet, in a straight line.

Which is, of course, how most buyers of such cars drive them. What these owners will fault much more than the handling: the ride. The 5.0 R-Spec wafts along some roads, especially blacktop Interstate, with impressive smoothness, silence, and solidity, feeling every bit a premium sedan. But on other roads it tosses about and even quivers to an annoying degree, refusing to settle down and relax. The Acura TL-S I drove the previous week had a considerably more composed chassis, while the cheaper-by-half Ford Focus SE handled bad roads better than either of them.

Of course, you won’t pay nearly as much for the Genesis as you will for one of the name brand luxury sport sedans. At $47,350, the 5.0 R-Spec is only $2,000 more than the 4.6. The factory mods might not work together seamlessly, but Hyundai is charging surprisingly little extra for them. Even an Infiniti M56, which substantially undercuts the Europeans, costs over $20,000 more when similarly equipped.

[Update: The summer tires add another $1,400, but I'd skip them. Not only do they not suit the character of the car, but you can currently pick up a set of four online for $996 plus shipping and installation. So about $300 and a set of all-season tires less than what Hyundai is charging. A further note: the Hyundai media site lists a Genesis 5.0 without the R-Spec chassis, so one is likely coming.]

The Hyundai Genesis 5.0 R-Spec’s 429-horspower engine alone is a tremendous achievement for a company that a decade ago struggled to wring 200 horsepower from a big DOHC V6. Unfortunately, the rest of the car lacks finesse. One must wonder: was the R-Spec a last-minute, low-budget project? Perhaps Hyundai developed the new engine primarily for the Equus, and only realized at the eleventh hour that it might provide the basis for a high-performance Genesis? This would explain the absence of suitable sport buckets and of a well-sorted chassis. Either way, Hyundai has been coming along so quickly that a thoroughly satisfying luxury-performance sedan can’t be far off. For now, we’ve got an outstanding engine in a pretty good car at a price that might well compensate for the current shortcomings. Just test drive extensively before you buy, as your experience will vary depending on the road surface.

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

Michael Karesh operates TrueDelta.com, an online provider of car reliability and pricing information..

The Hyundai Accent has never been a “gotta have it” sort of car. Instead, it’s been a “what’s the cheapest thing you got?” sort of car. The 2011 started at just $9,985 (plus shipping and handling). That’s “started,” as in past tense, because the 2011 is history. The 2012, now arriving at dealers, starts at $12,445 plus $760 for destination. Add an automatic transmission, A/C, the $1,300 Premium Package (fog lights, cruise, remote keyless, Bluetooth, upgraded interior trim, 16” alloy wheels in place of 14” steelies), and floor mats, and you’re looking at a $17,350 sticker. Clearly Hyundai thinks they’ve developed a much more desirable car. Have they?

Hyundai couldn’t get a new Accent to me before an upcoming vacation, and reviews based on press cars are embargoed until June 22nd regardless, so in the interest of reporting on the car early I dropped by the dealer. At first they didn’t appear to have a 2012 Accent. Then I noticed that the fog lights on one of the Elantras wasn’t quite like the others—because it wasn’t an Elantra. From the front the cars aren’t easy to tell apart. From the side, the Accent sedan has the same highly styled shape as the Elantra, with swept back headlights, a strong character line rising through the door handles, and an arching roofline that terminates over yet another, even larger black plastic triangle. But this shape is compressed into a 172-inch length, a half-foot less than the Elantra. So, like the previous-generation Elantra, the new Accent sedan appears thick through the midsection. As with the Ford Fiesta, the new hatchback (which isn’t yet at dealers) is considerably more attractive.

Inside the new Accent, Hyundai’s designers weren’t permitted to indulge themselves as much as they were with the Elantra. So there are no wavy curves, just a clean, straightforward design with easy-to-use controls—including three separate knobs for the HVAC. The surfaces are primarily hard plastic, but they are attractively textured and feel solid. The Premium Package’s piano black trim adds an upscale touch; the silver trim that remains on the doors, not so much. Some piano black would be welcome there as well. This being a GLS sedan with the Premium Package, the tan cloth aspires to look and feel luxurious. I’d personally prefer a heftier, sportier fabric, but perhaps such is fitted to the SE hatchback. In terms of materials, you might be able to do a little better in this segment; you can certainly do much worse.

There are benefits to the Accent’s stubbier length: the windshield couldn’t be laid back so far, so the instrument panel isn’t as deep and the driving position is much better than that in the Elantra. The forward view is very open, inspiring confidence. Unfortunately, the manual tilt front seat adjustment standard in past Accents is gone, as it is from most cars these days. The steering wheel tilts, but does not telescope.

The Accent’s front seats are comfortably shaped, moderately firm, and provide a decent amount of lateral support. Those of you who always ask if a tall person can fit (you know who you are) might actually be able to fit—the driver’s seat has quite a bit of travel. When the front seat is positioned for the average adult male, there’s easily enough room in the back seat for another such male—and so far more than in the Mazda2 or the Fiesta. The Elantra offers a couple inches more legroom than the new Accent, but its rear seat is positioned lower (and even then doesn’t have allow quite as much headroom), so I actually find the Accent’s rear seat more comfortable. Trunk volume of 13.7 cubic feet is just a single cube shy of the Elantra, and quite good for such a small car.

The Accent GLS automatic weighs in at 2,463 pounds, so about 100 pounds heavier than a Mazda2 or Toyota Yaris but nearly 200 lighter than a Chevrolet Sonic or Ford Fiesta and nearly 300 lighter than the larger Elantra. Despite this relatively low weight, the car feels more solid than most in the class and even the Elantra. Factor in a direct-injected 1.6-liter engine that, with 138 peak horsepower, checks in only ten short of the conventionally injected 1.8 in the Elantra (and well above any others in the segment—the Fiesta’s 120 is next best), and even with the six-speed automatic the Accent never feels slow. With the manual transmission it might even feel quick. Even a strong 1.6 in a relatively light car must work fairly hard, so it’s a good thing that this engine likes to rev and sounds good (if not quiet) while doing so. The transmission can be manually shifted, but generally selects the appropriate gear when left to itself and lets the engine do what it needs to do, with shifts in the low 3000s in casual driving. In normal mode (there’s also an “Eco” mode) the transmission doesn’t lug the engine the ways it sometimes does in the Elantra, Sonata, and Tuscon.

Perhaps because the transmission isn’t tuned to be a killjoy, the EPA ratings are nearly identical to those of the heavier, port-injected Elantra, 30/40 instead of 29/40. Not quite the cause for celebration such numbers would have been just a year ago, but who’s doing to complain about “just” 30/40? Especially when the car is much roomier than competitors who fare no better (and who often fare worse) on the EPA’s rollers.

So here’s the part where I tell you that the car functions well, but isn’t any fun to drive. Except it actually is. The aforementioned driving position certainly contributes. The electric motor-assisted steering does feel artificial, even a bit gummy on center, but does have a satisfying firmness and loads up progressively when turned. Understeer and body lean are minimal, and the chassis remains composed and thoroughly predictable up to the limits of the front tires. The suspension is tuned much better than that in the Elantra (whose ride continually irritated me). Thanks to firmer damping, body motions are better controlled over uneven road surfaces. Some people might find the ride a little too firm, but for anyone who cares about driving it’s about as good as it gets with a 101-inch wheelbase. A Ford Fiesta does feel cushier, but also feels soggier when exercised. A Mazda2 feels lighter and more agile, and so is more fun to drive on a twisty road, but also looks and feels much cheaper. As in the Ford, wind and road noise are surprisingly low even at highway speeds—unlike the subcompacts of years past, the Accent is a car that could comfortably be driven for long distances.

I haven’t yet input pricing for the 2012 Accent into TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool–but should before the end of the month. For now, a less precise comparison will have to do. You cannot load up an Accent the way you can a Ford Fiesta. Features like leather upholstery, seat heaters, sunroof, and keyless ignition simply aren’t available. A leather-wrapped steering wheel can only be found in the Accent SE hatchback (MSRP with automatic: $17,555). So the midlevel Fiesta SE sedan seems to match up most closely with the $17,350 car I drove. Similarly equipped, one lists for $17,060, so a few hundred dollars less. Similarly outfit a Nissan Versa and a Toyota Yaris, and they list for $18,180 and $18,630, respectively, well above the Ford and Hyundai. So while the Accent certainly isn’t in the bargain basement, it continues to check in at the low end of the segment’s price range. A similarly-equipped Hyundai Elantra: $18,445, just over $1,000 more than the Accent.

The 2012 Hyundai Accent has a surprising number of strengths, including the best combination of power, fuel economy, handling, ride, room, driving position, interior materials, and overall refinement you’ll find in the segment. Some competitors are ahead in one or two of these areas, but not by much, and then lag severely in others. In hatchback form the new Accent is even attractive (and the sedan isn’t bad looking). This combination of attributes is so compelling that it’s not only easy to see why many people will desire the Accent more than other B-segment cars. Many will also find that it’s a better car than the Hyundai Elantra. The only significant advantage of the larger, more expensive car: you can get it with heated leather seats, sunroof, and nav. Don’t want these? Then the better-driving Accent is the way to go—even if you can’t get one for anywhere near ten grand anymore.

Glassman Hyundai in Southfield, MI, generously provided the car. They can be reached at 248-354-3300.

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

You’re an old fart. Or at least you think like one. You want a simply designed car that’s easy to see out of, capable of toting a bunch of stuff, solidly constructed, and fun to drive. Meanwhile, cars keep going in the opposite direction, with sci-fi styling, shrunken windows, oversized and overcomplicated instrument panels, cramped rear seats, and marshmallow suspension tuning (e.g. the Honda Civic reviewed a few days ago). But before giving up hope you might want to check out the Hyundai Elantra Touring SE.

What is the Elantra Touring? One clue: originally developed for the European market, it’s badged the i30 Estate in the UK. “Estate” is Brit speak for wagon. An i30 hatch is also offered over there, but hasn’t been imported. Compared to that car, the lengthier i30 Estate / Elantra Touring (106.3 vs. 104.3 wheelbase, 176.2 vs. 168.5 overall length) is a wagon. But, with the proportions of a hatchback and an upward curve abbreviating the rearmost window, it’s not a wagon to American eyes. Interior space is comparable to that of a compact crossover, but without the 65-plus-inch height of a crossover. Instead, with a roofline 59.8 inches above the pavement, the Elantra Touring pushes the upper limits of a conventional car. Of the cars offered in the U.S., the Scion xB and Toyota Matrix come closest to direct competition, but they’re shorter in length, taller in height, and don’t feel nearly as much like a conventional car from the driver’s seat. The Elantra Touring is in a size class by itself, which is both a strength (no direct competition) and a weakness (few people know to look for one).

Compounding the challenge: as a Euro-market car, the Elantra Touring was only loosely related to the 2007-2010 US-market Elantra sedan, and has little in common with the redesigned 2011. Trying to market two disparate cars using the same nameplate tends to result in one of them getting lost. Even up against the previous Elantra sedan, which itself failed to attract the attention of many American car buyers, the Elantra Touring struggled to break through. Now that the look-at-me 2011 Elantra has arrived, the Elantra Touring is hopelessly eclipsed, at least until it’s also redesigned. So it should come as no surprise that for each of the Elantra Tourings sold (about 1,500 a month), over ten sedans fly off the lot. And the ratio would be even higher if dealers had more sedans to sell.

Design is a factor. Though subtly attractive in SE trim from the rear three-quarter angle, just about any other perspective leaves the Elantra Touring looking somewhat homely, especially compared to the highly styled 2011 Elantra sedan. Styling for the next generation Elantra Touring, which has already been approved, will much more strongly resemble the new sedan. This should be good for sales, but if you prefer an exterior with absolutely no controversial aspects you should get the current Elantra Touring while you still can. Just be sure to get the SE trim, which includes 17-inch alloy wheels. The GLS, with its hub-capped 15s, appears hopelessly dowdy.

Inside, the Elantra sedan is again more highly styled, with racy curves and novel switchgear, while the Elantra Touring’s simpler, more conventional design is easier to live with. The HVAC and audio controls are close at hand, large in size, and few in number. A USB connection and satellite radio are included, while Bluetooth is available as a $325 accessory. Aside from the somewhat flimsy lever for the adjustable lumbar, everything feels robust. The textured, padded upper doors and instrument panel are a nice touch. Too much black? Too bad—it’s the only interior color option. Best think of it as sporty and easy to keep clean.

If you want to pretend you’re piloting a rocketship, go elsewhere. The Elantra Touring’s driving position is high enough for excellent forward visibility but low enough that it still feels like a regular car. The windshield is more upright than that in the Elantra and the instrument panel is low and compact by current standards. The shifter resides in the conventional location rather than up on the instrument panel, as is often the case with tall hatches. Contrary to recent trends, the windows are tall. Consequently, the feel from the driver’s seat is very different from that in the Elantra, Focus, Civic, and so forth. I hope this driving position is retained with the upcoming redesign, but the odds aren’t good.

The Elantra Touring SE’s heated leather front seats, though not luxurious, are comfortable. A hard to find feature at any price: headrests with a fore-aft adjustment. The rear seat is comfortably high off the floor and includes significantly more legroom than the average compact hatch. Cargo? The Elantra Touring holds about as much as the average compact crossover and significantly more than the average compact hatch, though the specs (65.3 cubic feet vs. 45 or so, with the rear seat folded) might overstate the practical difference. Sadly, the front passenger seat does not fold forward. This would have improved an already highly functional package.

The only engine option remains the 138 horsepower 2.0-liter four-cylinder that powered the Elantra from 2004 through 2010. This mill feels spirited at low speeds, revs smoothly enough, and growls pleasantly while doing so, but even aided by a manual transmission lacks punch at the high end when saddled with 3,080 pounds. Hyundai’s new 2.4-liter four with 176 to 200 horsepower would be a welcome upgrade, but won’t happen before the redesign, if ever. The lighter (by about 260 pounds) 2011 Elantra sedan gets by with a 148-horsepower 1.8-liter. Could be worse: the most powerful engine offered in the UK is a 124-horsepower 1.6.

The Elantra Touring SE’s firm shifter, while not as precise or as slick as the best, feels better, even much better, than those in other Hyundais. Credit the standard short-throw linkage supplied by B&M and some TLC from Hyundai’s engineers. The main problem: it only gives you five gears to choose from (and the automatic has only four). With a sixth gear, the engine wouldn’t have to spin well over 3,000 rpm on the highway. Between the old engine and ratio-challenged gearbox, the EPA ratings are only 23/31, compared to 24/35 for the slightly heavier Sonata sedan and 29/40 for the Elantra sedan. I observed high 20s and low 30s on the trip computer in casual suburban driving, but suspect this was optimistic.

True to its European roots, steering in the Elantra Touring is also firmer than that in the typical Hyundai. The system’s feel isn’t as tight or precise as in a Mazda3 or Mitsubishi Lancer, but (unlike in the Elantra sedan) heft builds naturally as the wheel is turned and the car changes direction readily. The stability control intervenes sooner than it ought to, but not too aggressively. This nanny can be turned off safely—the car progressively understeers as it approaches its limits.

The Elantra Touring’s ride can become busy, even jostling over especially bad pavement, but remains smooth most of the time. Even over the rough stuff the car isn’t knocked off its line. Body motions are much better controlled than in the Elantra sedab and noise levels are fairly low (though the engine, spinning at 3,500 rpm, starts to intrude at 80 on the highway).

Lost in evaluating each of these aspects separately: though not an outstanding performer in any particular area, Elantra Touring SE is simply fun to drive. The primary controls aren’t the most nuanced, but they share a direct, firm, natural feel, and the systems they’re connected to react with a refreshing immediacy. Among non-turbocharged compact hatches, only the Mazda3 and (perhaps) the Mitsubishi Lancer are more enjoyable.

The Elantra Touring SE lists for $20,340 (including $95 for floormats). Aside from the $800 automatic transmission (not recommended) and $325 Bluetooth accessory there are no significant options. Similarly equipment a Mazda3 and it lists for about $3,600 more. Even after adjusting for feature differences (the Mazda has automatic climate control, and power driver seat, and so forth) using TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool and the gap remains over $2,000. A Toyota Matrix S is about $2,400 more before adjusting for feature differences, and about $3,800 more afterwards. A Mitsubishi Lancer Sportback GTS? $3,100 more before the adjustment, $1,700 afterwards. A Kia Forte EX, on the other hand, is very close in price.

The Elantra Touring has a smaller, less powerful engine than any of these alternatives. Its trump cards: less gimmicky styling (compared to the Mazda and Toyota), an outstanding driving position, excellent ergonomics, and a higher quality, roomier interior. The Hyundai might not triumph in any particular area, but no other car offers a similar combination of crossover functionality and hot hatch driving enjoyment. If you’ve been seeking this combination, we’ve found your car.

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

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

In recent years Hyundai’s designers have become (or at least been allowed to be) much more adventurous. The Santa Fe’s sheetmetal was crafted earlier, so it’s tasteful but conservative, cleaner but less chiseled and less visually intriguing than more recently designed Hyundais like the half-size smaller Tucson crossover. The interior is much the same, with a simple design and, in a conventional ploy to appear upscale, plentiful faux timber. Also no trendy panoramic sunroof; a single conventional roof portal above the first row will have to do.

The conservative design makes for a much better driving position than in the Tucson. From the driver’s seat it’s possible to reach the base on the windshield, much less the center stack. In the Tucson it’s hard to reach the radio tuner. With a high seating position, conservatively raked windshield, and a relatively low, compact instrument panel, the view forward is very much old style SUV. Such outstanding visibility is the primary reason people who will never venture off-road started buying SUVs in the first place. On the other hand, this driving position makes the Santa Fe feel dated.

The Santa Fe was originally designed to have a third-row seat. Consequently, there are a couple inches less second-row legroom than in the smaller Tucson. Adults will fit, but there’s no room to stretch out. For 2010 the third row is no longer offered, perhaps because the Veracruz now exists to better serve that need. Shoulder room is more plentiful than in the Tucson. Cargo room even more so. Fold the second row and the Santa Fe will hold 78 cubic feet of your stuff; the Tucson only 56.

The base engine in the Santa Fe is the same 2.4-liter four-cylinder that powers most Tucsons. If you’re only seeking 175 horsepower, you might as well buy the more up-to-date Tucson (unless you want to be able to easily reach the radio). The best reason to buy a Santa Fe over the Tucson: the larger crossover’s available 276-horsepower 3.5-liter V6. Given the Santa Fe’s very retro curb weight of just over 4,000 pounds, the strong six can move it quite swiftly, and not use too much gas in the process. The EPA ratings are 20/26. I observed about 24 on the highway, so these might be a little optimistic.

The Santa Fe’s center of gravity is high and its suspension tuning is much softer than the Tucson’s, so it’s not going to be the enthusiast’s choice. While the Tucson was designed with the European market in mind, the Santa Fe was designed for Americans. But though the Santa Fe lacks the Tucson’s taut “seat of the pants” feel, it handles intuitively and its steering, though loose on the highway, seems more fluid and natural. The steering might even communicate a bit much—minor impacts make their way through to your fingertips. Though the Santa Fe is truly midsize in width, it’s a few inches less lengthy than the typical midsize crossover, so (especially in combination with the driving position) it feels a little more maneuverable. Ride quality is smoother than in the Tucson, and cushier than the average crossover, but not the most composed. On the highway there’s a moderate amount of wind and road noise. No Lexus, but hardly loud, either.

The Tucson might be much more current, but the “dated” Santa Fe continues to outsell it nearly two-to-one, with 76,680 shifted during calendar year 2010. (Even with the Santa Fe removed from contention in the three-row contest, Hyundai only managed to sell 8,741 people on the Veracruz.) Part of the reason could well be the Santa Fe’s more conventional driving position, its more upscale appearance, and its available V6.

Price also clearly plays a role. The MSRP of the fully loaded tested example (V6, AWD, leather, sunroof, nav) might not seem low at $33,340, but (non-Korean) competitors tend to be thousands higher. A further indication of value: Hyundai has only priced the Santa Fe about $1,500 above the Tucson, and even with the V6 it’s only about $3,000 more. This is before incentives. Hyundai currently has $1,500 of rebates available for the Santa Fe, but none for the Tucson. So with the four-cylinder, the larger, more luxurious SUV is priced about the same as the smaller one. The related Kia Sorento is priced about $1,000 higher, but includes about $2,000 in additional “stuff” (based on comparisons using TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool), most notably the third row and attendant rear HVAC no longer offered in the Hyundai.

The Santa Fe doesn’t have trendy styling, sharp handling, or an especially roomy back seat. Compared to more recently designed competitors it both looks and feels dated. But it provides the upscale styling cues, commanding view from the driver’s seat, and easy to reach and operate controls many buyers in this segment apparently want, all at an attractive price. So maybe the latest crossovers aren’t heading in the right direction?

Hyundai provided an insured, fueled vehicle at a drive event.

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

Though an upcoming 429-horsepower 5.0-liter V8 might suggest otherwise, Hyundai intends to lead the industry in fuel economy. As recently as 2005 this would have seemed a pipe dream. That year’s Hyundai Sonata automatic managed fuel economy ratings of only 19/27 MPG from the EPA (2008+ system), well below the 21/31 achieved by the Honda Accord and Toyota Camry. The 2011 Sonata does far better: 22/35. But the glory, of course, goes to hybrids, and so the Sonata will soon be available in hybrid form. The projected EPA numbers: 36/40. Is Toyota’s hybrid leadership in danger?

By arriving late to the hybrid party, Hyundai had ample opportunity to learn from others’ failures. One lesson: car buyers expect a hybrid to look different. Hyundai’s solution: graft an exceedingly ugly nose, complete with an XXL hexagonal lower grille, onto the Sonata. LED tail lamps take the other end of the car up a notch. Exhaust is the opposite of green, so the pipe is concealed. The exterior tweaks aren’t solely for aesthetics: they also reduce the drag coefficient from an already Volt-beating 0.28 to a Prius-tying 0.25.

The interior is standard stylish Sonata, with a few notable exceptions. An “eco guide” replaces the tach. The trip computer receives a mild upgrade. The optional leather upholstery gains perforations. The optional sunroof gains a rear panel—an odd choice since this should reduce efficiency by adding weight and increasing the load on the AC. And a surprise: the HVAC airflow control is properly three pieces rather than one, so it provides the function as well as the form of the Volvo control that clearly inspired it. As in other hybrids, trunk space takes a hit, dropping from 16.4 to 10.7 cubic feet.

For their hybrids, Ford and Nissan followed the Toyota HSD model. Hyundai has taken a different route. Where HSD employs a planetary gearset CVT, Hyundai retains the regular Sonata’s six-speed automatic—but not quite all of it. Unlike in the late, unlamented Honda Accord Hybrid, which similarly sandwiched a (much weaker) electric motor between a conventional gas engine and a conventional automatic transmission, there’s no torque converter. Instead, the electric motor handles transitions to and from a dead stop. The Sonata Hybrid’s engine also receives one substantial modification. As in the HSG, the 2.4-liter four runs through an Atkinson cycle to virtually lengthen the ignition stroke and so squeeze a bit more energy out of each cycle. The cost of closing the intake valves part way through the compression stroke: 29 peak horsepower (now 169).

The innovation that makes this unique powertrain possible: a clutch between the engine and electric motor. The Honda Accord Hybrid’s engine could not be declutched from the rest of the powertrain, so that car could not run on electric power alone and had to retain the inefficiencies of a torque converter. By declutching the engine, the Sonata Hybrid can (allegedly) cruise up to 62 MPH on electric power alone.

Finally, Hyundai opted for a lithium-polymer battery rather than the NiMH batteries employed by the others. The lithium-polymer batter is more compact and lighter. Partly as a result the Sonata Hybrid weighs only 3,457 pounds, over 200 less than the Camry and Fusion. Downsides? Hyundai isn’t suggesting any, but the newer technology is less proven and can’t be cheap.

How does it behave? Total gas-plus-electric power output is a little higher at the peak, and notably higher at low rpm, where the 40-horsepower electric motor contributes 151 pound-feet of twist. So, like its direct competitors, the Sonata Hybrid feels plenty quick. The drivetrain sometimes plays a touch rough at low speeds—perhaps the clutch engaging and disengaging—but otherwise behaves well. The conventional automatic feels so much more normal than a CVT—it can even be manually shifted—that the deleted tach is actually missed.

So what’s not to love? Fuel economy. I barely touched 40 in a largely highway stint. When did 40 become disappointing? When the 274-horsepower Sonata 2.0T achieved the same. In suburban driving, I managed “only” 31.3 despite a very light foot. The 36 promised by the EPA numbers wasn’t happening. And while electric-only operation might be possible up to 62 MPH, it doesn’t actually happen unless you’re extremely light on the gas. A tailwind and/or a downhill slope might also be required. The Toyota-type system seems to have a clear advantage in city and suburban driving. In these conditions the Ford Fusion Hybrid tops the Sonata by about 10 MPG. Drive the Sonata Hybrid aggressively, and suburban fuel economy falls below 20. A Ford Fusion Hybrid still managed 27 when subjected to my lead foot.

Better driving aids might help, or would at least be more entertaining. Toyota, Ford, and others have been providing ever more precise and detailed feedback to help drivers adjust their driving style to maximize efficiency. In contrast, the Sonata Hybrid’s “eco guide” is little better than the MPG gauge BMW has been offering for decades. A vine that grows and loses leaves against a background that changes color, both based on your driving style, can be summoned up, but it’s as useless here as it is elsewhere. Sought but not found: some indication of the limits of the regenerative braking system, beyond which the conventional brake rotors cut in to convert kinetic energy into heat.

With curb weight up just a couple hundred pounds, and with the steering electrically-assisted in both cases, the Sonata Hybrid steers and handles much like the regular Sonata. Meaning better than average, and bordering on fun to drive, but not as taut as the Fusion Hybrid. With the optional 17-inch wheels the ride is more jittery than the Sonata Limited’s. The likely culprit: while the tire size is the same, 215/55VR17, the Limited wore Hankook H431s while the Hybrid is shod with Kumho Solus KH25s. Even so, the ride-handling balance could be the best in the segment, with sharper handling than the Camry and a smoother ride than the Fusion.

Taken by itself, the 2011 Hyundai Sonata Hybrid is a very good, even excellent car. But, even more than most hybrids, it makes little rational sense. Despite the lofty promise made by the EPA city figure, the hybrid system doesn’t seem to improve fuel economy nearly as much as the Toyota-type system in city and suburban driving. It fares better on the highway—40 MPG for a roomy, semi-lux sedan is certainly admirable—but must then contend with the regular Sonata, which does nearly as well, even with the 274-horsepower turbocharged engine. Pricing for the Hybrid hasn’t yet been announced. If Hyundai charges $2,500 or less extra for the hybrid bits, which will be cut in half by a $1,300 tax credit, and the technology turns you on more than the front end turns you off, then by all means go for it. Otherwise, the regular Sonata is a better bet.

Hyundai made this vehicle available for review at a ride-and-drive event.

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

Review any car priced between $18,000 and $28,000 lately, and someone’s bound to comment, “I’d much rather have a $20,000 Hyundai Sonata.” This hasn’t just been talk. Sales of the 2011 Sonata have exceeded Hyundai’s most fanciful expectations, leaving the car in short supply. Now, to add fuel to the fire, you can get the Sonata with a turbo. Should you? Well, it depends.

The Sonata with a turbo looks exactly like a Sonata without a turbo, with one minor exception: the Limited 2.0T wears the SE’s 18-inch alloys in place of the 2.4’s 17s. Those who expect a more powerful car to look more powerful, or at least different, will be disappointed. Others will see a swoopy sedan that’s far more stylish than the Honda Accord and Toyota Camry. Some of the new has worn off since the Sonata’s spring debut, but it will still be a year or two before key competitors can possibly catch up. The most immediate aesthetic challenge will come from a redesigned Kia Optima, which shares the Sonata’s platform and powertrains but has even more dramatic (if also more disjointed) styling.

The Sonata’s interior is similarly unaffected by the powertrain upgrade. As such, it’s among the segment leaders in terms of styling, materials, room, and comfort. Anyone seeking performance-oriented bits like a boost gauge or aggressively bolstered buckets won’t find them.

The normally aspirated 2.4-liter engine’s 198-200 horsepower is plenty powerful for the great majority of midsize sedan buyers. But some people “need” more grunt, and a number of others—perhaps a quarter of the total—will pay for more even if they’ll rarely if ever actually use it. Honda, Toyota, Nissan, Ford, Chevrolet, and Mazda offer such buyers a 3.5-or-so-liter V6. Hyundai has taken a different route by offering a turbocharged 2.0-liter four instead.

Fortified with direct injection and a twin scroll turbocharger cast integral with the exhaust manifold, the Hyundai engine manages a few more horsepower than any of the sixes (for a total of 274) and ties the stoutest (Mazda’s 3.7) for peak torque (269 pound-feet). Typical of a turbo, the torque peak arrives early, at 1,750 rpm. Curb weight, 3,338 pounds for the SE 2.0T and 3,452 pounds for the Limited 2.0T, is among the lowest in the group, so the specs promise thrillingly strong performance.

Well, the turbocharged engine delivers strong acceleration, but without much in the way of thrills. The turbo 2.0 is a little louder than the normally aspirated 2.4, but is otherwise refined and revs with the same general lack of drama. The additional noise is mostly mechanical. There’s none of the exhaust roar / drone present in Hyundai’s previous-generation 2.0-liter turbo, still offered in the Genesis Coupe. The main aural shortcoming: even a very good four never sounds nearly as sweet as a decent six. At low rpm there’s little lag. At higher rpm there’s none. As with many boosted engines that employ the latest technology, the power curve is exceedingly linear. There’s no strong shove at low rpm (despite what the torque peak might suggest), no sudden surge of power in the midrange, no zing in the final rush for the redline. Also very little torque steer.

The mandatory manually-shiftable six-speed automatic transmission behaves well enough. The Limited 2.0T gains the SE’s shift paddles. These permit a little more involvement, but are no substitute for the manual transmission not offered.

The biggest upside surprise with the 2.0T: fuel economy. The EPA rates the 2.0T for 22 city / 33 highway, compared to the 2.4’s 22/35. In the real world, I observed as low as 11 in full hoon mode. But in casual driving the trip computer’s numbers easily exceeded the EPA’s, with the average even touching 40 MPG during one stretch of semi-rural byway.

Handling is also much the same. The Sonata’s steering is considerably firmer than a Camry XLE’s, but still isn’t especially sporting. The chassis feels composed and balanced in casual driving but, typical of a mainstream-oriented front-wheel-drive midsizer, understeers when pressed. The 18s lifted from the SE sharpen the Limited’s steering a bit, but also add some thumpiness to the ride and some tire noise on concrete. As with the 2.4, the top trim level is the way to go, though its additional features (leather upholstery, sunroof, 360-watt audio system, automatic climate control, and so forth) do inflate the base price. The SE’s firmer suspension unsettles the car’s ride more than it improves the car’s handling.

The $1,750 price bump for the turbo, which includes the shift paddles and larger wheels and takes the Limited to $27,765, suggests a healthy bang for the buck.

But with the Sonata’s character hardly affected, much less transformed, by the addition of boost, those who think Evo and STI (or at least 2005-2009 Legacy GT) when they hear “274-horsepower turbocharged four” are bound to be disappointed. The Sonata 2.0T simply wasn’t developed with enthusiasts in mind, likely because there just aren’t that many of them. It was developed to compete head on with the V6-powered Camcord crowd. And that’s what it does. Expect the Sonata 2.0T to be in short supply for the same reasons the 2.4 has been. It delivers what the mainstream buyer wants, just a little more quickly.

Hyundai provided this vehicle at a ride-and-drive event.

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

Hyundai seems fearless. Its venture above $30,000 with the Genesis wasn’t a rousing success, yet two short years later they’re doubling down with a $65,000 flagship. But there is one car they dare not offer here, from the opposite end of the line: the diminutive i10. So, what are we missing?

B-segment cars like the Fiesta, Fit, and Versa have been exploring the lower limits in the 21st-century American market. But once upon a time truly small cars like the Chevrolet Sprint and Ford Festiva were offered here. The i10’s 140-inch length (20 inches shorter than the Accent) and 63-inch width (3 inches narrower) put it within an inch of the Festiva. The i10’s 2,000-pound curb weight is a couple hundred above the Festiva’s, but modern NVH and safety standards have done much worse to a car. The biggest change from the city cars of yesteryear: the i10’s 61-inch height. The Festiva appeared disproportionately tall back in the day, but the i10 is a substantial half-foot taller.

Venture over to Hyundai’s UK website, and you’ll find a car that’s almost appealing from the side and rear quarter. But the freshened 2011 i10 (now with the new corporate hexagonal grille!) was brought to a U.S. media event to show off a new engine. So no one bothered to bless the tested car with a flattering shade of paint or stylish alloy wheels. With its monumentally tall bodysides, body-color pillars, and tiny wheels, the i10 can’t pull off bright red any more than a standard colonial house can pull off lavender trim. The hubcaps do the car no favors, either. So attired, the i10 screams “penalty box.”

The interior is a happier place, with fluid styling, red accents, and materials of decent quality. (Sure, the interior panels are all hard plastic, but what did you expect for a car that would list below $10,000 here?) The i10’s unusual height translates into seats mounted comfortably high off the floor and plentiful headroom. Because the seats are mounted high, and wheel wells sized for 14s don’t intrude, there’s sufficient legroom for adults in both rows despite the i10’s brief 94-inch wheelbase. It helps that, unlike in the Equus flagship, there’s plenty of room for the rear passengers’ feet beneath the front seats. The much lengthier Ford Fiesta and Mazda2 are considerably more cramped inside. Not that all is perfect within the i10: the rear seat is flat, thinly padded, and, like the third row in some SUVs, tops off a few inches short of shoulder height. Behind the rear seat there’s enough cargo space for the grocery store. Fold the rear seats and runs to CostCo aren’t out of the question. Given the space Hyundai’s engineers had to work with, they carved out a surprisingly functional interior. As Sir Alec demonstrated a half-century ago, it’s possible to provide a surprising amount of room inside a tiny car if the machine is kept to a minimum.

The numbers that excite potential i10 buyers emerge from the test lab, not the test track. The 2010 i10’s base engine, a 1.1-liter four, wasn’t competitive in terms of fuel economy or CO2 emissions. An upcoming 429-horsepower 5.0-liter V8 notwithstanding, Hyundai is intently focused on improving its green rep. So the company developed an all-new three-cylinder as part of its “kappa” engine family. Variable induction and variable valve timing on both cams wring 69 horsepower (at 6,200 rpm) and 69 foot-pounds of torque (at 3,500) out of 1.0 liter. And the key achievements: a 17 percent improvement in fuel efficiency (55 MPG in European testing) and CO2 emissions of 99 grams per kilometer (apparently nudging under 100 is a big deal across the pond). One trick: come to a stop, place the transmission into neutral, and release the clutch, and the engine shuts off. Depress the clutch, and the three automatically restarts.

Given the inherent imbalance of a three-cylinder engine, and the absence of inefficient balance shafts, I expected the kappa to feel rough. But, partly because the crankshaft is offset, it doesn’t. The engine does, however, produce an unseemly amount of noise when revved, discouraging runs to the redline. Given the modest power output—equivalent to 120 horsepower in a 3,500-pound sedan—acceleration is unsurprisingly tepid, though not unbearably so. For these seeking a little more power, a 79-horsepower 1.2-liter four is also offered. Still not enough? Hyundai plans to turbocharge both engines, with the turbo 1.2 slated to receive the additional benefit of direct injection.

If these engines are offered in the i10—they might be destined for larger cars—the resulting 110-140 horsepower would be…interesting. It’s not clear that the i10 could handle so much power. In the U.S. vehicle market, the nearly 1:1 ratio between the small Hyundai’s height and width is only approached by the clumsiest SUVs…and the smart fortwo. So the i10’s generous body roll in turns and tippy feel above 40 miles-per-hour also comes as no surprise. One size class up, the lower, wider Mazda2 handles far better. Approach highway speeds in the i10 and wind, road, and engine noise become intrusive—especially the first. This said, the i10 does ride smoother and feel far more solid than the Sprint and Festiva of yore. It doesn’t feel cheap, just sluggish and tippy.

Coors beer seemed special when you had to make an illegal high-speed run across multiple state lines to get it. Likewise, it’s always scintillating to drive a class of car we can’t get here. The A-segment Hyundai offers an impressive amount of interior space given its tiny footprint, and the new three-cylinder engine is smooth enough and perhaps even powerful enough for American consumption. But the i10’s handling and high (by current standards) noise levels render it a city car. Even in congested, tax-happy Europe such cars capture only 10 to 12 percent of the market. And, compared to the next Accent, the i10’s exterior appearance is downright dorky, projecting the very image Hyundai has been striving to bury. So, unless gas prices surge well over $4 a gallon, and perhaps not even then, the i10 won’t be threatening the dignity of the Equus inside U.S. showrooms.

Hyundai made this vehicle available at a ride-and-drive event.

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

Just two years ago the $40,000 Genesis was an audacious step upmarket for Hyundai. Tepid sales of the semi-premium line suggest that the market still isn’t quite ready for an expensive car from Korea. And yet, for 2011, the company is attempting an even larger leap with the $58,900 Equus ($65,400 in Ultimate trim). This is territory into which even storied manufacturers like Cadillac and Lincoln fear to tread (with cars at least). Does Hyundai’s large premium sedan come close enough to established competitors, while undercutting them enough in price, that potential buyers will overlook the badge? Or is it a step too far too soon destined to sell in very small numbers?

While the Genesis targets the E-Class, 5-Series, and Lexus GS, the Equus goes after their larger siblings. The dimensional relationship between the two senior Hyundais most resembles that between the BMW 5 and 7, with a roughly four inch difference in wheelbase (119.9 inches for the Equus), seven inch difference in length (203.1), one inch difference in width (74.4), and negligible difference in height (58.7).

Unlike with the BMWs, though, the Equus doesn’t simply look like the same sausage in a longer length. With generous curves befitting a Buick—even a sweep-spear—the Equus’ exterior has more style and is less derivative (of direct competitors at least) than that of the Genesis. Yet, as the domestic car of choice for home market executives, it remains much more conservative than the Sonata. There’s nothing here that will turn buyers off. But there’s also nothing much to turn them on.

The interior styling, with no distinctive eye-catching elements, is more generic premium sedan. The materials are mostly worthy of the price, but don’t surprise—unless the presence of copious amounts of Alcantara suede (for the headliner), premium leather (on the instrument panel as well as the seats), and real wood inside a Hyundai surprises. Scads of high-end features are standard, including adaptive cruise control, quad-zone temperature control, power reclining rear seats, a 608-watt, 17-speaker Lexicon audio system, and (the car’s best claim for a “first”) an iPad for the owner’s manual. A plus: the plentiful controls needed to operate all of these features are easier to learn and operate than those in competing European sedans. As in uplevel Mercedes, metaphoric seat controls are located high on all four doors.

Unfortunately, Hyundai neglected the basics in its rush to pack the Equus full of features. The driver’s seat, positioned high relative to the instrument panel like those in the Lexus LS and Mercedes S-Class, provides a good view forward through the comfortably upright windshield and reduces the perceived bulk of the car. But the seat itself fails to provide even a hint of side support. The bolsters are very far apart, and the space between them is bereft of contour. Hardcore lateral support is neither needed nor expected—this is not a sport sedan—but more cosseting seats would be much more comfortable even when cruising the straightest highway.

The front seats are also responsible for a serious shortcoming in the rear seats. To begin with, despite its larger exterior the Equus isn’t significantly larger than the Genesis on the inside. Combined, front and rear legroom grow by only 1.1 inches, to 45.1 and 38.9 inches, respectively. Though these are very competitive numbers, the spec sheet doesn’t always accurately represent real life. And in real life, because there’s no space for feet beneath the front seats (even when they’re raised), rear legroom is in short supply. I’m 5-9, and have a shortish 30-inch inseam, but could not comfortably sit behind myself. With my feet unable to slide forward beneath the front seats, I had to sit “knees high,” thighs unsupported. The rear seat of the Genesis seems roomier and more comfortable. Power reclining rear seats are standard on the Equus, but this feature shifts the seat bottom forward, making a bad situation worse. Also, even with the rear seat in its full upright position I found it overly reclined.

Step up from the Equus Signature to the Equus Ultimate (trim names borrowed from the Lincoln Town Car?) and a power legrest is added to the right rear seat. Oddly, unless you’re under 5-6 there’s not enough space to use it, even with the front right seat motored all the way forward and tipped. Hyundai offers an extended wheelbase Equus in Korea. The legrest should have been restricted to that car. A shame, because the Ultimate’s rear console (in place of the Signature’s center seating position) includes the makings of a thoroughly executive experience, with a refrigerated storage compartment, DVD entertainment system, and plenty of buttons to play with. Who knew Hyundai could be so cruel, providing so many toys but not enough room to play.

The Equus shares its 385-horsepower 4.6-liter V8 and six-speed automatic with the Genesis, but weighs nearly a quarter-ton more (4,449 to 4,592 pounds). Consequently, acceleration is easily adequate, but not exhilarating (it’s not that sort of car, anyway) or effortless. The engine isn’t silent, but the noises it makes are welcome to anyone with even the slightest care for driving. Want more scoot? Wait a year, when Hyundai will replace the 4.6 with a direct-injected 5.0-liter good for 429 horsepower and add two ratios to the transmission. The 2012 powertrain should also be good for another MPG. The EPA rates the 2011 for 16 city, 24 highway. Aside from 6 MPG during a vigorous exploration of the chassis, I observed slightly better numbers, and even exceeded 30 on one stretch of rural highway with a few complete stops.

The Equus’ standard suspension pairs height-adjustable air springs with adaptive shocks. Lexus, and not anything from Europe, was clearly the dynamic target. The Korean flagship’s electro-hydraulic steering isn’t sloppy, but is light at all speeds—it doesn’t firm up on the highway–and body motions verge on floaty. But emphasis on “verge”—this is no land yacht of yesteryear. Though even a Lexus LS steers and handles more intuitively, for a comfort-oriented luxury sedan there’s sufficient composure and control.

Mysteries abound. A “sport” button on the center console allegedly firms things up, but you’ll be hard pressed to detect a difference. Also making no apparent difference, no matter how long they are held down: the buttons to deactivate the stability control and VSM (which integrates the stability control with various other safety systems). Even with two lights in the instrument cluster announcing that both nannies have been furloughed, the stability control intervenes early, often, and aggressively. Oversteer ain’t happening. Give the engine too much gas in a corner, and exit with too little. The point of the large staggered tire sizes, 245/45R19 up front, 275/40R19 in back? Unclear.

The Equus rides smoothly and quietly, but competitors are smoother and quieter. Slight tremors unbecoming a premium sedan can be felt through the steering wheel even though not much else can. In ride as in handling, the chassis is good enough that the typical buyer will be satisfied, but not great. The Equus doesn’t come close to setting new standards for refinement the way the Lexus LS did 21 years ago. In Hyundai’s defense, these standards are now so lofty that even approaching the class norm on the initial attempt is quite an achievement.

Lesser Hyundais are no longer much less expensive than competitors, with a ten-percent price advantage typical. The Equus starts out a little over ten percent below the Lexus LS 460, $58,900 vs. $66,255. But nearly $10,000 in options are needed to equip the Lexus like the base Hyundai. And even then the Hyundai has roughly $2,000 in additional features, according to TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool. Adjust for these differences, and the Equus has a price advantage of over $19,000. Compare the Equus to a BMW 750i, and this advantage more than doubles. If a $60,000 car could ever count as a bargain, this is it.

The Ultimate, on the other hand, fails the value test. It includes about $3,000 in additional features, but given the shortcomings of the rear seat these are of dubious real-world utility. And they add $6,500 to the price.

Not part of these value calculations: Hyundai’s strategy for making its dealers viable purveyors of $60,000+ automobiles. This strategy: the customer never has to risk tripping over an Accent by visiting the dealership (though a special Equus section must be set aside just in case one does). If you’re a potential buyer, they’ll bring the Equus and paperwork to you. And, whenever the car needs service they’ll retrieve it and return it, leaving either a Genesis or Equus as a loaner in the interim. Sound expensive? Well, during the first five years it’s all free.

The Hyundai Equus looks and performs decently enough, and offers an industry-leading cornucopia of standard features at a much lower (if still far from low) price. So, even though it doesn’t break any new ground, Hyundai’s finest would be worth serious consideration by anyone for whom $20,000 isn’t pocket change, except for one thing: the seats. How could Hyundai put so much obvious effort into this car, then include such unsupportive front seats with no room beneath them for the rear seat passengers’ feet? Did none of the many people involved in the development of the car notice these major shortcomings? Certainly everyone involved could not have been under 5-6 and over 300 pounds. The American senior executives are downright tall. What happened? Better to look forward. Hyundai has demonstrated a willingness to quickly change what needs changing. So maybe next year.

Hyundai made this vehicle available for review at a ride-and-drive event.

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

You could look at the accident one of two ways. The first way to look at it was that the backhoe was at fault. It backed out halfway across the northbound exit ramp to Bethel Road from Ohio SR-315, forcing my brother to take too rapid of an avoidance maneuver, spin his pristine Porsche 944, and hit a streetlight, causing said streetlight to fall into the freeway traffic.

The second way to look at it — and, in fairness, I must note that this view was the one espoused by the Columbus Police — was that my brother, Mark, had been traveling at perhaps one hundred miles per hour (“More like one twenty,” he sniffed to me in the aftermath) and that therefore the backhoe operator could have had no reasonable expectation that the red Porsche+Audi would arrive well before he could move back off the road.

Either way, it was time for the punishment car.

When I totaled my 200SX at the tender age of sixteen, my punishment car was a Mercury Marquis Brougham. Mark, on the other hand, never crashed a car in his teenage years. What he did manage to do was comprehensively trash a new Jetta and a new Infiniti G20 in series, the latter so badly that the lease-end damage report ran to seven thousand dollars and multiple pages. Dad decided he should have a used car, but somehow “used car” ended up being “absolutely pristine 2.7-liter 944 formerly owned by the local TV news princess”.

“There’s good news and bad news,” my bro said to me on the phone. “The good news is that I have a Porsche and I’m six years younger than you are. The bad news is that your shitbox Land Rover left the line with no factory options.” I looked out the window, saw the “SD” logo on my ’97 Disco five-speed, and hung my head in the appropriate level of shame. Half a year later, I used that same crappy truck to pick him up at the accident scene.

The next day, two proposals were placed before our father, who art in New York. Mark suggested replacing the 944 with a Boxster. I suggested replacing it with a Hyundai. The old man must have been annoyed; not only did he accede to my suggestion, he told Mark that his role would be limited to co-signer of the loan. “Hyundais,” he responded, “are for daytime strippers who are no longer particularly compelled by the current Grand Am’s styling.” I thought this was ironic, given that he was seeing two daytime strippers at the time, but I had to concede that he spoke from experience.

Objections aside, the next day we went to see the four-headlamp Tiburon. At $13,900 or so (according to my distant recollection), it was surprisingly well-equipped. In a straight line it didn’t give up much to the 944, and if it had a rather dismal black-plastic interior, it also had a strong, clear sound system. As with the Elantra and Accent of the time, the control efforts were somewhat surreal. The clutch gave the impression of having no spring attached to it, offering the meekest of pedal resistance. The gearshift waved around in space, occasionally notching lightly into a slot when the stars aligned just so. The brakes approximated Citroen’s famous rubber button, going from “no stop” to “full stop” in one soggy inch. Steering was distant from the road and the column wobbled gently.

At six foot two, I found the roof too low; at five foot eight, Mark found the window sills too high. The silver paint used for accenting throughout the interior looked like it would fade and rub off, and that appearance was not deceiving. The rear seats were a cruel, cramped joke, and the hatchback covered a very oddly shaped cargo area which seemed to be full the minute my brother threw his tenor saxophone and gig bag in there.

On a fast back-road test drive, the Tiburon revealed an odd quality. Although everything felt flimsy, the car really wasn’t flimsy at all. It had some torsional rigidity and was trustworthy in the turns. Once the shifter’s peculiarities entered one’s kinesthetic memory, it was fast enough to use and the clutch was abuse-proof. Best of all, it seemed to have enough brake. Mark said something that is probably repeated nationally a thousand times a day, even now: “Hyundais are a lot better than I thought they would be.” We closed the deal at invoice and hit the road.

Something happened to my brother. He kept his new car clean and free of debris. Over the next few years, the Tiburon stayed looking good, even as the odometer crested 70,000 miles. I can’t ascribe it to having to make his own payments, because he regularly forgot to make them, sometimes for months at a time. I think the car simply earned his respect.

The daytime strippers disappeared, replaced by a doctoral student of clarinet performance. She arrived in a Nissan Sentra but was soon driving a new Elantra, converted by Mark’s pro-Hyundai fervor. The Tiburon gave way to a loaded Santa Fe. For years my brother told everybody who would listen what a great damn car the Koreans could make. His friends bought Hyundais. He started to inquire as to why I didn’t have any Hyundais.

“Your new Land Rover may have all the options,” he would say, “but the Santa Fe 3.5L offers more for less.” Finally, annoyed unto death by his conversion from jazz artist to Seoul man, I dragged him to a Mazda dealer and made him drive an RX-8. He got out of the car and announced his intention to buy it. “Great car,” he said, and then, wistfully,

“It reminds me of my Tiburon.”

Chatting with frequent flyers provides a unique context to mainstream vehicles, especially with recent changes at the rental car counter. That’s because the 2011 Hyundai Sonata arrived and she’s all that with a bucket of awesome. Renting one is like an extra $50 Per Diem, or a “suite” upgrade at the Hilton. After spotting a Sonata SE on the showroom floor, I’m wondering if the same applies for retail buyers with a need for road holding and toddler hauling. Because the Sonata is certainly a nice car.

Something’s afoot when Hyundai brochure photography mimics the minimal, high contrast punch of a luxury brand. The Sonata isn’t the second coming of the Chrysler LH cars, as the cab forward A-pillar needs a hunk of black plastic to give an essence of sleekness, without actually doing so. But a gen-u-wine window, not a plastic plug, accents the Sonata’s C-pillar slant. Add the chrome-accented beltline running from the fenders to the C-pillar for more proof of Hyundai’s lack of beancounting. Like the outgoing Mercedes CLS, the Sonata is downright gorgeous from some angles, plump and tall from others.

But aside from the pulled back headlights (that look like my dog’s eyes when pushing her forehead rearward) and the grille’s XXL orthodontics, there isn’t an offensive or derivative line on this body. I could elaborate, but will close with the Sonata SE’s smoke-toned, 18-inch rims and punchy dual exhausts (worth an extra 2hp, dontchaknow) for maximum visual punch.

For the $23,800 as-tested price, there’s much to appreciate inside: richly grained wheel with multiple elements working in striking harmony, a Lexus-worthy center stack and clean (but functional) multi-screened gauges. Combine the dash with door panels that look too good for its class, and I wonder if Hyundai is engaging in price dumping: the Sonata is just that frickin’ classy.

More proof: upscale chrome accents surround the driver like a Cadillac CTS. Options like sat-nav, moonroof and high-wattage audio are worthy upgrades, since the stock audio system has all the gadgets (Bluetooth, USB, XM, 6-speakers) but needs more defined imaging and a subwoofer for maximum bump. Aside from the need for piano black trim (a la Sonata Limited) the SE’s guts are damn near impossible to fault.

It’s all in a package that provides reasonable trunk space (with easy to close, bean counter approved, dog-leg hinges) comfortable seating for five and unique leather and cloth seating for the Sonata SE. The latter is a wonderful throwback to 1980’s euro pocket rockets, though lateral support isn’t up to yesteryear’s specifications. Yet the grippy yet supple coverings symbolize the SE’s need to provide luxury where you need it, performance where it matters. While the turbo model has yet to hit the showroom, there’s one convenient truth to the 200hp, direct-injected, twin-cammed, four-cylinder motor: it has entry-level sedan economy with most of the performance desired from a top-drawer V6 upgrade.

Mash the throttle on the Sonata SE and there’s no torque steer, but plenty of torque for sane drivers. Midrange thrust is distinctly V6-like, without the price or economy (35MPG) penalty associated with a larger motor. The SE’s flappy paddle shifters are like grade school relationships: she won’t let you kiss (the rev limiter) but she’ll make you squirm (in top gear with no revs) until you downshift on your own.

And holding gears to one’s satisfaction is very much appreciated, considering the SE’s steering and suspension upgrades. Much like the SE-fettled Camry, the Sonata has reasonable feel with nicely weighted boost, flat cornering to mild understeer at the limit. It’s a fun sedan that “feels” better after finishing said hoonery, looking at the nearasdammit luxury car surroundings and pondering the asking price on the sticker.

Then again, the Sonata isn’t the second coming of the Model T: it has competition. And the SE’s NVH controls are distinctly lacking on highway trips, as tire howl from the 18” wheels merited extra stereo gain to silence the rumble. And I still “felt” the howl. Add the slightly choppy ride of this sporting sedan and perhaps either of the other Sonata models is a wiser choice for most Americans. Plus, the Sonata Limited’s upscale options (rear heated seats, side mirrors with turn signal duplicators) make for a convincing case in upselling.

Plus, Hyundai’s loony 10-year warranty: which kept me thinking that, aside from these tires, the Sonata SE is a cheap and cheerful high-performance import sedan from yesteryear, with more modern luxuries than any (non-Phaeton) VW. Somehow, the Hyundai Sonata raised the bar for this class. And to every new family sedan waiting in the wings: match this car’s interior content, direct injected performance and upscale options, or go home.

Readers who follow TTAC on Facebook had the opportunity to ask questions about the Sonata SE. If you would like to ask questions of reviews in progress, check out our Facebook page. Fans, here are your answers.

T. Redfern, S. Chandrashekar: after sampling the Camry/Sonata SE, the only thing going for Toyota is the quieter tires, I suspect the non-sport Sonatas will clean house. R. Lauder: stacking up to the Accord, Camry, Fusion and Malibu is tough to say without a comparo test, but it smells like a home run. D. Thuma: it’s a stylish car with *stunning* attention to detail and respectable performance. R. Aucoin: No clue if a steering shaft recall was performed, but the steering gear didn’t pole-vault me down the highway. M. Singer: Yes, but I think the “eco” light goes away when you have the fuel economy gauge activated.

Along with the new Sonata, the redesigned 2010 Tucson expresses Hyundai’s intent to offer cars that appeal to the emotions and not just the pocketbook. With tall bodysides, creased fender bulges, and a complex angularity that resembles some recent designs from Ford of Europe, the new Tucson isn’t exactly beautiful, but does possess a upscale dynamism missing from previous Hyundais and is at least not forgettable or boring. The half-size-larger Santa Fe appears bland in comparison. The new Tucson’s grille might be a bit overdone, but it works with the rest of the design and is tasteful compared to some others in the segment (e.g. Honda).

Hyundai’s newfound emphasis on styling continues inside the 2010 Tucson, with complex surfaces, shapes, and color combinations successfully melding on the instrument and door panels. Though you’d never guess it from my photos, materials are perhaps the best in the segment. The plastics are hard, but those you’re most likely to touch are coated with soft-touch paint. The seats in the tested GLS are a combination of leatherette and sportily textured cloth and the armrests are comfortably padded. Hyundai seems to have finally figured out that slick leather has no place on a steering wheel; the leather wrapped around the Tuscon’s wheel actually enhances one’s grip (imagine that). Nothing looks cheap and everything feels unusually solid—almost European.

Alas, the IP’s functionality leaves much to be desired. First off, the center stack’s cap and satin-finished surround are both highly reflective, and proved hard on the eyes (and camera lens) on sunny days. The rear defrost button isn’t grouped with the other HVAC controls. Instead it’s located where a keyless start button would normally be found, and likely is found in Tucson’s so optioned. The console-mounted grab handles look nifty, but are too far away to actually be used. On the other hand, the mirror controls fall readily to hand. In too many cars one must lean to operate them, which makes proper mirror adjustment unnecessarily tricky.

One ergonomic sin could prove deadly. The slope to the center stack combines with the control layout to place the audio system’s tuning knob so far away that it cannot safely be turned while driving. Note to car makers, many of which now commit this sin, if usually to a lesser extent: do not place the tuning knob on the right edge of the head unit unless said head unit is located close to the driver. Adding insult to injury: the satellite radio tuner takes a few seconds to go from one channel to the next. I’ve noticed that some satellite radio tuners do this as quickly as a conventional radio tuners, others not. The Hyundai’s falls in the “not” column.

Typical of the segment, you sit high, but not so high as to feel tippy. The windshield is neither overly upright nor overly laid back—no A-pillar windowlettes needed. The front seats are comfortable and, between their bolsters and cloth center panels provide better-than-average lateral support. The Tucson might be Hyundai’s smallest crossover based on exterior dimensions, but it provides more rear legroom than the next-up Santa Fe. The rear seat could be a little higher for optimum thigh support, but comfort is generally good. Missing from the previous generation: a front passenger seat that folds forward to further extend the cargo floor—I’ve found this feature to be very handy in one of my cars—and a manual recline adjustment for the rear seat.

Why buy the Santa Fe if the Tucson has more distinctive styling and more rear legroom? Two possible reasons, now that a third-row seat is no longer offered in the larger SUV. The first: cargo volume. The Tucson is about ten inches shorter than the Santa Fe, and much of the dimensional difference is aft of the second row. There’s still a fair amount of cargo room in the Tucson, but some people will need more.

The second possible reason: the Tucson is only available with a 176-horsepower 2.4-liter four-cylinder, at least so far. While more powerful than the 2009 Tucson’s optional 2.7-liter V6, for 2010 the Santa offers a 276-horsepower 3.5-liter V6. If you want to race a Hyundai for pink slips in the SUV class, the Santa Fe V6 is clearly the better choice.

That said, the new four performs unexpectedly well in the new Tucson. It no doubt helps that, at 3,382 pounds even with all-wheel-drive, the Tucson weighs a quarter-ton less than the Santa Fe and Sorento. Even saddled with all-wheel-drive the four-cylinder engine never feels weak, and it can feel downright frisky on a curvy road when using the six-speed automatic transmission’s manual shift to keep the revs up. A six-speed manual transmission is also offered, but only with front-wheel-drive. The engine feels smooth throughout its range and is quiet up to 5,000 rpm. The noises it does make aren’t bad for a four. Unlike in the Kia Sorento (a close relative of the Santa Fe), I didn’t feel a strong need for a V6–though a turbocharged and/or direct-injected version of the four wouldn’t be unwelcome.

The automatic transmission was designed by Hyundai, offers a good choice of ratios (the four-cylinder engine would be less impressive otherwise), and avoids hunting among them. In other ways, it’s a typical fuel-economy-minded automatic. Shifts when using the manual shift aren’t immediate, and the transmission programming lugs the engine when driving in the 40-50 MPH range.

Fuel economy is better than I observed in the Sorento, again probably because of its relatively low curb weight. In typical around town driving, the trip computer reported 21.5 miles-per-gallon. Pressing the “eco” button added perhaps one MPG, with a minor impact on driveability. Aggressive driving reduces the reported miles-per-gallon to about 18.5. The EPA ratings suggest that a front-wheel-drive Tucson would do a couple MPG better.

An even bigger surprise than the performance of the four-cylinder engine: the new Tucson’s chassis tuning. Korea’s roads must not be the best, since Hyundai’s have traditionally been softly sprung. Not this one. The Tucson’s chassis tuning feels German more than anything else, with a very taut feel. A solid-feeling body structure assists. The downside of this tuning: in casual driving the ride can feel annoyingly nervous, and even modest bumps elicit thumps. The upside: driven aggressively on a curvy road, the Tucson is actually fun. Sure, with a high center of gravity and nose-heavy weight distribution it feels tall and understeers, but the chassis feels tight and precise. If only the somewhat heavy steering provided some feel of the road, the Tucson could well be the enthusiast’s choice in this segment.

Either because higher cost mean they must or simply because they can, Hyundai isn’t offering the Tucson at a bargain price. The 2010 starts at $19,790. Add the automatic, all-wheel-drive, the Popular Equipment Package (cruise, alloys, other things most buyers will want), and nav, as on the test vehicle, and you’re suddenly looking at $25,990. Which sounds high for a car without leather, sunroof, or power driver seat, but just about anything comparable is higher. Just not as much higher as it would have been in past years. Honda only offers nav with the CR-V on the EX-L. Lose the nav and compare the Tucson GLS to the CR-V EX, and the Korean SUV lists for $1,815 less. A good chunk of the difference is in dealer margins, though. Compare invoices, which more closely reflect what you’ll actually pay, and the difference is about $1,100. A Toyota RAV4 runs a few hundred higher than the CR-V. Like the Santa Fe, both the CR-V and the RAV4 offer substantially more cargo room than the Tucson. Otherwise they’re closely matched.

The Hyundai Tucson is surprisingly good in some key areas, especially styling, four-cylinder powertrain performance, interior materials, and handling. It’s already worth consideration by anyone shopping for a vehicle in this segment. But there are nevertheless some shortcomings. One of these, class-trailing cargo volume, cannot be fixed without a complete redesign, and unless the Santa Fe grows there’s little need to fix it. Others Hyundai could and should work to improve. Make the steering as good as the rest of the chassis and redesign the center stack, and the new Tucson would be a clear winner. Add the turbocharged four that’s been announced for the Sonata midsize sedan, and even driving enthusiasts who desire the packaging of an SUV (they’re alleged to exist) would flock to Hyundai showrooms.

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

Driving enthusiasts love to hate the Toyota Camry. Yet, despite the company’s current troubles, it remains the best-selling car in the United States. Hyundai would love to steal the crown, or at least tens of thousands of customers. So it recently launched a totally redesigned 2011 Sonata and will be advertising it heavily. Should Toyota be concerned?

Both the young (my kids) and the old (my parents) were captivated by the beauty of the Camry. Not the sheetmetal, mind you. They probably didn’t notice the shape of the car. The bulbous exterior was a great leap forward for a Camry four years ago—engineers might have designed the previous generation sedan—but at this point it is a generation behind current automotive fashion. The good angles it does possess (not the front view even with this year’s redesigned grille) have been overexposed through its omnipresence. And the XLE’s small, multispoked alloys don’t flatter the car—the SE looks considerably better. Rather, my family was captivated by the paint, a highly metallic dark green.

The Sonata’s paint options are relatively ordinary. But its swoopy exterior design marks a sharp departure from that of the handsome but utterly forgettable 2006-2010 Sonata. What the Mercedes-Benz CLS did for luxury sedans—bring coupe-like style to the segment—Hyundai hopes to do for midsize family sedans. Some resemblance can be seen to various luxury sedans (CLS, A6, ES), but Hyundai has also taken far more risks here than with the Genesis. An arching roofline, a couple of strong, curving character lines, and a ribbon of chrome trim that connects the beltline to the headlights could have combined in the side view to form a complicated mess. And yet these design elements manage to form a whole that is both cohesive and distinctive, and at once upscale and sporty. Even the fashionably oversized grille works. Most important of all: unlike the Genesis sedan, the new Sonata stands out on a crowded road—even without fancy paint. In comparison, the Toyota looks stodgy.

Upholstered in light gray leather, the Camry XLS interior includes nothing analogous to the exterior’s paint. Its design is thoroughly conventional circa 2006. One exception: the audio controls to the right of the nav screen are a bit of a reach, a common sin these days.

As with the exterior, the new Sonata’s interior is much more up-to-date and stylish than the Camry’s. The instrument panel includes some artful curves, but is cleanly designed. All of the buttons are easy to reach, and they helpfully vary in shape and size. As with the exterior, Hyundai appears to have benchmarked luxury sedans rather than other family sedans. Controls beneath the nav screen mimic an Infiniti’s, while the climate controls mimic a Volvo’s. The anthropomorphic control for directing airflow is just a single button rather than the three found in a Volvo, though, so it captures the Swede’s style more than its functionality. After sampling all three trim levels—cloth GLS, cloth/leather SE (sport), and leather Limited, the last is easily the most attractive. For those who want an escape from black, gray, and beige, wine-colored hides are offered.

Interior materials are of similar quality in both cars: not bad, but you’re clearly not in a luxury car. The Toyota has higher-quality switchgear, but its glossy “wood” is too obviously plastic and the silver-painted trim covering the center stack doesn’t even pretend to be aluminum. Perhaps because it was tailored for the European market, the interior in Hyundai’s new Tucson feels more solid and tightly constructed than that in either of these sedans.

The steering wheels deserve special consideration. Prior to the Genesis, Hyundai upholstered its cars’ steering wheels with the world’s slickest leather. With the Genesis they seemed to have finally realized that the point of having leather on the steering wheel is to make it easier to grip, not to help it slip through one’s fingers. But with the new Sonata they’ve backslid. The artfully designed steering wheel has a rim composed of three different materials: urethane on the outer sides, slippery leather from 10 to 2 o’clock and from 5 to 7, and, inside the lower perimeter, the sort of rubberized plastic that tended to wear poorly in MkIV Jettas. The last was already badly worn on one of the tested cars. None of the materials is well-suited to the task, and three is two too many. A good steering wheel has one material, a grippy leather, all the way around the rim–like the one in the Camry.

The Camry doesn’t have great front seats, but they’re both more supportive and more comfortable than those in the Sonata. With the Sonata, the feel of the seat varies quite a bit depending on whether the center panel upholstery is cloth, as in the GLS and SE, or leather, as in the Limited. The leather seats feel firmer, and you sit noticeably higher in them, or rather on them. With either upholstery the side bolsters quickly surrender when called upon to provide lateral support. The Camry’s side bolsters failed me less, but then I asked less of them. 

Some other car reviews will tell you that the Sonata’s new coupe-like roofline cost the sedan 2.8 inches of rear legroom compared to the previous generation car. What they fail to notice: maximum front legroom increased by 1.8 inches—which is sure to delight long-legged drivers (with a 30-inch inseam, I’m not one). So rear legroom is only down by an inch, and still fairly plentiful. Rear headroom, not quite so much. Tall passengers will have the scrunch down or sit up front. Other than this, the rear seat is perhaps more comfortable than the front seat. It’s a decent height off the floor, the backrest provides a healthy amount of lumbar support, and in the Limited it’s even heated.

The Camry’s back seat is even better, with a little more room, a little more height off the floor, and, in the XLE, manual recliners. The price of the manual recliners: unlike in the base Camry and the Sonata, the rear seat doesn’t fold to expand the trunk. Both cars have usefully commodious trunks that are moderately compromised by conventional gooseneck hinges and constricted openings. In both the Camry XLE and Sonata Limited, but not in lesser trims, rear seat passengers get their own air vents, a welcome feature on hot sunny days.

The tested Camry was fitted with a 268-horsepower DOHC 3.5-liter V6. Hyundai will offer no V6 in the new Sonata, we’re told to shave 100 pounds off the curb weight (a commendably light 3,199 pounds with the automatic). And a 274-horsepower turbo four won’t arrive until fall. So the cars I drove were fitted with a 198-horsepower direct-injected DOHC 2.4-liter four (200 with the SE’s dual exhaust). Not an even match, so just a few words on each.

The Camry’s V6 engine is easily the most entertaining aspect of the car. It’s smooth, powerful, and makes lusty noises when prodded. But there’s really little point to it in this car. The Camry simply doesn’t ask to be pushed hard enough to render the four-cylinder insufficient. Then again, Detroit’s specialty used to be overpowered cars with soft suspensions and over-boosted steering, and perhaps there’s still a market for this combination.

The Sonata’s new engine is, like the related port-injected unit in the new Tucson, very smooth and quiet for a four. Even held at 4,500 RPM using the automatic’s manual shift feature it’s not loud, and it never sounds rough. The previous generation four sounds and feels uncivilized in comparison, and it’s not a bad engine. The loud clacking typical of high-pressure injectors can be heard when outside the Sonata, but not when inside it. Thrust is a bit soft up to about 25 miles-per-hour, beyond which point the engine feels fairly energetic, if not a substitute for a V6. Few buyers will need more power or refinement than this four offers. The others can wait a few months for the turbo.

The Camry’s engine provides good fuel economy for a powerful V6, about 22 around town. But the Hyundai’s new four is outstanding in this regard, earning a class-leading 22/35 MPG from the EPA. Driven along rural roads, I observed 35 MPG for one segment, and low 30s overall. So the EPA numbers don’t seem to have been cheated. A hybrid arrives in the fall, but it seems pointless unless most driving involves frequent stops.

Both the Camry and Sonata are fitted with six-speed automatics that usually shift smoothly and behave well. One minor demerit for the Hyundai’s box: it slightly lugs the engine at times, no doubt to maximize fuel economy. Those whose ears aren’t sensitive to low frequency sounds will never notice.

The Camry and Sonata drive about as differently as they look. The first thing you’ll notice when setting off in the Camry: it feels extremely smooth and quiet, clearly the result of lessons learned when developing Lexus. Bumps effect some head toss at moderate speeds, but overall the Toyota’s ride could hardly be more comfortable. Unfortunately, the focus on isolation extends to the steering. It’s far too light, lacks a strong sense of direction, and (aside from some kickback) is devoid of feel. A shame, because even in XLE trim the chassis is more composed than in previous non-sport Camrys. A firm, even overly firm, suspension is standard in the Camry SE.

The three trims of the Sonata all drive differently. The GLS’s higher-profile 16-inch tires are noisier than the Limited’s 17s and harm the car’s ride and handling. Paired with steelies, they’re begging for a mod. The SE’s 18s are also noisier than the Limited’s 17s, and together with a firmer suspension yield a busy, occasionally unsettled ride. If the SE handled much better than the Limited the ride penalty might be worth it, but it doesn’t. The Limited handles nearly as well as the SE, and rides more quietly and much more smoothly. Add in its more attractive interior and additional features, and the Limited is easily the best of the three trims. If you want a Sonata, you want a Sonata Limited.

Still, compared to the Camry XLE, the Sonata Limited isn’t as quiet or as smooth. It’s the difference between good, even very good, and great. The Camry feels like a premium car through the seat of one’s pants and the drums of one’s ears. The Sonata does not quite manage the same. On the other hand, the Sonata’s steering, while nearly as devoid of feel as the Camry’s, isn’t overly light, is nicely weighted, and has a clear sense of direction. As a result, even down two cylinders the Hyundai is more engaging and fun to drive (such things being relative).

In the end, the Camry cannot escape its advancing age. It does a few things extremely well, and most other things very well, but its steering is far too light and its styling is bland and dated. With the new Sonata, Hyundai has avoided competing with the Camry head on. The Sonata isn’t as smooth, as quiet, or as comfortable, but it has better steering and is more fun to drive. But will many midsize sedan buyers notice or care about the difference in how the cars steer? Maybe, maybe not. But they’ll certainly notice how the new Sonata looks. A Hyundai that sells because of how it looks—who saw this coming? Now if only Hyundai offered some eye-catching green paint…

Toyota and Hyundai provided the vehicles, insurance and one tank of gas each for this review

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

Where other recent Hyundais have built the company’s reputation by taking laser-guided aim at American market hits like the Toyota Camry and Lexus LS, the Tucson’s roots are traceable to the spiritual home of the compact crossover: Europe. Designed and developed in Germany, where it will be sold as the Hyundai iX, the Tucson moves Hyundai’s crosshairs away from its traditional target on Toyota’s back towards Nissan’s European hit crossover, the Qashqai (a variant of which is sold in the US as the Rogue). The Tucson’s passenger dimensions are on-par with Rogue, Toyota’s RAV4 and Honda’s CR-V (with about 40 inches of headroom front and back, 41 inches of legroom in front and 38 inches in back), but cargo space comes in below all of its competition (but closest to the Rogue) with only 25/55 cubic feet with the rear seats up/down.

But fixating on practical numbers isn’t what the new crop of crossovers is about. If car buying were as simple as number-crunching, Hyundai’s Elantra Touring would cannibalize the new Tucson before it even arrived, offering similar dimensions and nearly identical mileage at a lower price point. Luckily for the auto industry, the emotional appeals that once sold SUVs by the boatload are hard at work in the new crossover class, and luckily for Hyundai, the Tucson hits all the notes needed to convince a buyer to abandon the rational analysis that might send them home with a mere station wagon.

The Tucson’s styling is some of the best in the compact CUV class, offering a taut, sculpted, sophisticated look that owes nothing to the crossover’s SUV-lite genesis. Which is not to say that the Tucson lacks stylistic debt: its “Fluid Sculpture” design language is more than a little reminiscent of Ford’s “Kinetic” aesthetic, making the Tucson something of a larger, less restrained Ford Kuga. In a US-market segment that boasts styling ranging from the timelessly anodyne (CR-V) to the faux-butch (Ford Escape) to the just-plain-uninspired (RAV4, Rogue, Equinox), the Tucson can expect to get good mileage from its distinctively European looks.

Especially considering that the impression of German world-car values continues inside. The center console is clean and clutter-free, with just enough funky flair from its flanking air vents and detached HVAC controls to prevent a sterile, industrial aesthetic. Interior design is more similar to the Chevy Equinox than the grey-plastic wonderlands of its Japanese competition, but unlike the Equinox, a sense of German propriety keeps the design from overshadowing its execution. Faux-alu plastic is blessedly kept to a minimum, while the solid swaths of dash material are well-arranged, tolerable to the touch, and seemingly set in concrete.

Though the interior walks the line between bland competence and Euro-sophistication, the drivetrain falls solidly on the side of bland competence. The good news is that the 2.4 liter engine’s smooth, if characterless performance, helps the Tucson deliver a quiet impression of isolation that actually adds to the sophistication side of the ledger. The less good news is that the engine itself is entirely unremarkable, developing its 176 horsepower without much in the way of drama, noise, or excitement. Hyundai’s in-house, six-speed automatic transmission is similarly lacking in defining characteristics, shifting smoothly if not snappily. Considering the distinct shortage of enthusiast options in this segment, this smoothed-out, inoffensive, and just-plain competent drivetrain isn’t likely to be a sales liability (and a turbo option is rumored).

Given the Tucson’s appliance-like drivetrain, there was no reason for Hyundai not to equip it with a soft, cruising suspension and call it a day. At least not if, like the RAV4 and Equinox, it were developed specifically to appeal to the US market taste. Instead, the suspension is remarkably taut, delivering a firm, pinned-down ride. The downside, of course, is some roughness over poorly-paved roads, but the combination of good damping and an impressively stiff body keep these disturbances feeling remote and manageable. Electric power steering helps the AWD Tucson to its 21/28 mpg EPA numbers just as much as it adds to this sense of remote isolation, but at the obvious expense of any road feedback through the wheel. Though it matches the drivetrain’s appliance-like competence and isn’t the most egregiously inconsistent EPS setup we’ve driven, the shockingly able suspension cries out for a more connected helm.

Not that anyone in the Tucson’s target market will care. With prices for FWD, manual models starting below $19k, and fully loaded Limiteds (pictured) topping out under $30k, it’s more fun to drive, more stylish and and more affordable than most of its Japanese and American competition. Our AWD GLS tester with the $1,700 “popular equipment package” offers the Bluetooth, steering wheel controls, leatherette accents, and a host of other items for a whisker under $24k. Which is about where no-option, AWD versions of its (slightly larger) competitors live. It won’t tempt anyone who still drives an SUV down into the burgeoning crossover class, but it certainly makes a strong rational case for itself to buyers with a Rogue or RAV in their sights. Heck, as an emotional, stylish design, it might even tempt a few otherwise reasonable folks out of an Elantra Touring. How the crossover has changed.

To begin with, there’s the name. The coupe shares its name—but little else—with the Genesis sedan. The two cars don’t look alike. They don’t drive alike. They’re much different in size and price. So, “Genesis” is bound to be associated with the characteristics of one or the other, or neither, but certainly not both. In this case, the sedan arrived first and so got dibs. If people happen to hear that there is a Genesis coupe, they’re likely to assume it’s larger, more luxurious, and more expensive than it actually is. At the very least Hyundai should—and I cannot believe I’m suggesting this—append an alphanumeric. C20T and C38 would be preferable to “Coupe.”

Like the Genesis sedan, the Genesis Coupe has an attractive but derivative exterior. Where the sedan cribs from Lexus (which in turn cribbed from the Germans), the coupe cribs from Infiniti. In both cases, the Hyundai has a premium appearance and is arguably more attractive than the cars that inspired it. The problem: with one exception the coupe’s design is not itself an original. Even people who don’t know cars can identify a Camaro, Mustang, or Z on sight. The Genesis Coupe’s styling provides no such basis for a clear, unique visual identity.

The exception: an odd beltline that dips downward after the B-pillar. According to one Hyundai employee, this novel detail was added to counter criticism that the company was simply borrowing from the designs of more established competitors. Viewed from the front or rear quarter, this detail doesn’t look bad, and some people might even find it appealing. Viewed directly from the side it doesn’t work well with the character line below it. For some reason, the rear window opening doesn’t extend any further down than the front window. The dipping beltline merely results in extra blacked-out glass–there’s no functional benefit.

Inside, the Genesis Coupe is, if anything, overly conventional, with none of the bizarre details that afflict many recent car interiors. While the exterior and specs suggests an Infiniti competitor, aside from the soft-touch IP upper the materials and switches are those of a decent $25,000 car. Most notable: the silver center stack trim just doesn’t look “premium.” Hyundai is aware of this shortcoming, so I wouldn’t be surprised to see a revised center stack in two or three years. More upscale detailing would also be welcome.

As sport coupe cockpits go, the Hyundai Genesis Coupe’s is airy and open. The cowl is fairly low, the windshield header is above your sightline, and the pillars aren’t too thick. You don’t feel like you’re sitting in a bunker peering through a slit, the way you can feel in some competitors.

The Genesis Coupe’s front seats are comfortable and provide such good lateral support that larger drivers might find the nonadjustable bolsters too tightly spaced. A very welcome but increasingly rare feature: the headrests have a fore-aft adjustment. All is not perfect on the seating front, though. Despite the shared name, the Genesis Coupe is aimed at a much lower price point than the Genesis Sedan, and this translates to a much shorter features list. The steering wheel only tilts–it does not telescope–and this adjustment is manual. The seat heaters are simply on-off, without multiple levels. No power recliner is available for the driver seat, even though this feature isn’t rare at this price. No power adjustments are available for the passenger seat. Only the driver gets a lumbar adjustment, and it is again manual. Finally, no surprise given the limited number of power adjustments, no memory is available to store your settings.

Back seats in 182-inch-long coupes tend to be short on space, and this one is no exception. Passengers over five-foot-six will have to scunch down to avoid hitting their heads on the hatch glass. Knee room is similarly scarce. The rear seat does fold in a single piece to expand a trunk that, at ten cubic feet, is already among the largest in the segment.

The Genesis Coupe is available with two engines, a 210-horsepower 2.0-liter turbocharged four and a 306-horsepower 3.8-liter V6. Since the latter has been reviewed here already, by Capt. Mike, I’ll only note that the sound it emits is all throaty exhaust and, while powerful, at no point does it quite “come alive” and rush for the redline. The sound and feel of the Nissan Altima Coupe’s V6 proved more addictive.

The best that can be said for the turbo four in stock form is that you only hear it much over 4,500 rpm, and even then it doesn’t make much noise or sound bad for a four. The not so good: though boost lag isn’t excessive, power delivery surges and lulls a bit in casual driving–a common turbo trait. Unlike with some turbo fours, this one has little punch at lower rpm, and is only adequate in the midrange. Let’s face it—210 horsepower isn’t much for a 3,300-pound car. Luckily the aftermarket loves to offer power enhancements for turbo fours. If you don’t plan to mod the engine, though, the V6 is a better choice.

The six-speed manual has moderate throws, and isn’t the most precise. A few times it took an extra moment to find the desired gear. The clutch requires a moderate amount of effort, and engages a little too abruptly just above the floor.

In terms of agility and feedback, the Genesis coupe is no sports car. But the same is true of every competitor save the Mazda RX-8. Considered as a grand tourer, the Genesis coupe handles well. The steering, neither too light nor too heavy, firms up naturally as the wheel is turned. The car doesn’t feel too large or sloppy with the base suspension, and lean is further reduced with the Track Package’s sport suspension. There’s a bit of initial understeer, and oversteer isn’t too easy to come by even with the otherwise overly assertive stability control turned off.

The 2.0T feels significantly more agile than the V6, with quicker, more communicative steering. Supposedly the only difference is that the turbo four has about 100 fewer pounds over the front wheels. If so, it’s amazing how much difference this makes.

With the best cars, the drivers forms a close connection and driving them quickly becomes almost intuitive. This connection doesn’t quite happen with the Genesis Coupe. The chassis generally does what it’s asked to do, but doesn’t communicate the way the best ones do. In general the car is short on character. While thoroughly competent, it’s not an engaging thrill to drive. The Mustang and especially the Camaro do not handle as well, but driving either is a more memorable experience.

On the flip side, the Genesis is smoother, quieter, and more refined than a true sports car. Need to drive long distances without becoming fatigued? No problem. In this respect it does feel like a car with a higher price tag.

Some reviews have criticized the ride quality with the Track Package. Even repeatedly driving a regular and a Track car back to back I didn’t notice a large difference, as might be expected since Track’s spring rates are only 7 to 11 percent firmer. On the other hand, the 2.0T with Track Package did have a significantly busier, almost nervous ride compared to the 3.8 Track. Even in this case, though, the ride isn’t harsh or irritating. Expansion joints don’t effect a rhythmic bouncing the way they do with some firmly sprung cars.

So, the Hyundai Genesis Coupe has many strengths and no glaring weaknesses. As Hyundai’s first attempt to create a rear-wheel-drive sport coupe, it’s quite an achievement. It comes close to matching an Infiniti G37 in those areas enthusiasts most care about, for considerably less money. But this is the end of it, and the sales figures suggest it’s not enough. As a new entrant, the Genesis Coupe needs to be outstanding in some way. It needs to deeply engage the driver. It needs a clear, distinctive identity. A sedan can get by without these things. But a coupe, a much more emotional purchase, cannot.

Hyundai provided the vehicle, insurance and gas for this review

Michael Karesh owns and operates TrueDelta, an online provider of auto pricing and reliability data

Hyundai’s on a roll. It wasn’t too long ago that the only things its cars generated were pollution and repair bills. Today, however, Hyundai cars are generating awards, increased sales, and most importantly, opinions. Read the comments section of any post on anything Hyundai, and people will have something to say. Many have good things to say, some do not. In either case, Hyundai has changed something: people care enough about its cars to have an opinion.

Take the new [2011 model year in the US market] Sonata. Much has been said about it already. Most of it has been positive. Some of it has been negative. But all of it has been good for Hyundai. As Madonna has proven time and time again, there is no such thing as bad publicity.

I spent a couple of hours with a production model of the 2010 Y20 Sonata in Korea recently and I too came away with a strong opinion. Namely, that Hyundai should be proud.

The next-generation Sonata is better than the outgoing model in every objective measure. It’s bigger, lighter, quieter, safer, roomier, more powerful, more fuel efficient, and emits less CO2, if you’re into that kind of thing. On these points, the numbers don’t lie.

When it comes to subjective measures however, the picture becomes less clear. We all know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Having said that however, some things are universally good-looking; Liz Hurley, Keira Knightley, and the 1956 Mercedes-Benz 300SL fall into this category. The Sonata is no Liz Hurley. But then, it’s not a Pontiac Aztek, either.

The grill is an especialy polarizing point. There are those who like it, those who don’t, and those who have reserved judgment until seeing it in the flesh, so to speak. Having seen the new Sonata in the flesh, the subjective eye of this beholder was surprised by its beauty.

Face-to-face, the Sonata’s snout manages to be bold without crossing into garishness. Above all else, it lends the Sonata something it’s always lacked: a personality. In comparison, the grill on the Genesis Coupe looks stifled and the Genesis Sedan’s grill feels stodgy. In short, Hyundai got it just about right.

Another thing a lot of people have been talking about is the Sonata’s derivative styling. For those people, I offer the following:

One of these burgers is a Quarter Pounder, the other is a Whopper. Although they both have a top bun with sesame seeds, a plain bottom bun, and a meat patty in between, they have enough individual character, both in appearance and flavor, to set them apart from one another. The new Sonata is the same way. Yes, it looks similar to other cars on the road today, but it finally has a character and a flavor all its own that sets it apart.

The car I drove was a Y20 Top Super Deluxe model which retails for 27.85 million Korean won (about $23,000 US). As you might imagine, this model comes with a long list of features. That list is so long in fact that instead of putting it here, I  have translated the entire price guide and options list [doc format] from Korean into English.

The dealership I visited for a test drive is near a highway onramp, so it was a right turn off the lot and another one onto the highway. The car I drove was equipped with Hyundai’s 2.0 liter four cylinder Theta engine. In fact, it’s the only power plant currently available in the Korean market Sonata. It’s rated at 165 horsepower (up from 163 last year) and 30 miles per gallon combined (up from 27 mpg last year).

Throttle tip-in seemed overly sensitive, but that was probably more my fault than the car’s. The car I drove had Hyundai’s newest six-speed automatic and apart from a 1979 Lincoln Continental I used to have when I was in college, I’ve never owned an automatic. My preference would be for the six-speed manual, but sadly it’s only available in the base model in Korea. With the automatic, the engine was turning just 1,500 rpm at 50 mph in sixth gear and the cabin was as quiet as Marcel Marceau in a bank vault. At higher speeds however, around 70 or 80 mph, I did notice some wind noise, particularly from around the A pillars.

Independent research done for Hyundai during the Sonata’s development found its wind noise levels to be 63.1 decibels. Unfortunately, that research didn’t say at what speed that level was recorded. For reference, that same independent research measured the wind levels of the Toyota Camry and the Honda Accord at 63.5 and 64.5 decibels, respectively. On paper at least, the new Sonata is quieter than both the Camry and the Accord. In the real world, I can attest to the cabin being nearly silent at speeds up to 60 or 65 mph, but over that, I was surprised at the amount of wind noise. This is something that other reviewers in Korea have noticed as well. Unfortunately, there isn’t a Honda dealership where I live and the Camry won’t be available in Korea until the end of October, so I couldn’t make a back-to-back real-world comparison. The table below shows how the new Sonata stacks up against its competition and against the outgoing model, at least on paper.

Previous Sonata          Current Sonata            Accord                  Camry

Wind Noise (dBA)          63.5                         63.1                     64.5            63.5

Road Noise (dBA)           70.0                        69.5                    73.5            68.0

In terms of performance, putting the pedal, which is the same ‘organ-style’ pedal as in the Genesis sedan, to the metal provided a smooth and prompt kick-down. The acceleration was good, but nothing to write home about and the engine sounded slightly overworked. The 201 horsepower 2.4 GDI engine will be available starting in January and I suspect it will remedy both these shortcomings. On top of being more powerful than the two-liter engine I drove, at 31 mpg combined, it gets better gas mileage, too.

A six-cylinder model is not available in Korea, but I’m sure the 3.3 liter 249 hp engine currently available in U.S. models will carry over and be tweaked for more power and better fuel economy when the car debuts in the States next year. That same engine in the Korean domestic Genesis sedan already makes 262 hp, so it should be an easy enough matter to pop it into the new Sonata. Having said that however, as I write this, there have been Internet mumblings and rumblings saying that because only 15% of previous generation Sonatas sold in the U.S. were equipped with the V6, Hyundai is considering dropping it as an engine option. I hope this is NOT the case. I don’t know if Hyundai can afford to turn its back on the 15% of people who did opt for the V6 in the old, rather humdrum Sonata. With the flash and dash exterior of the new car, people might be expecting a little more get-up-and-go and be disappointed, like I was, by the performance, and sound, of the four cylinder. Does anyone remember the Pontiac Fiero? It was all flash and no dash when it first came out. Besides, even if I buy a four cylinder, I like knowing that the company that makes my car has enough engineering prowess (spelt b-a-l-l-s) to build and offer a V6, even if it is superfluous in a car this size. Maybe Hyundai has something else up its sleeve. Wait and see, I guess.

During my test drive, I had the good fortune to pull alongside another new Sonata. It was a lower trim level that had the standard 16-inch alloy wheels (my test-drive car had optional 17-inch alloys with 215/55 R17 rubber). I must say that with the 16-inch wheels, the wheel wells look as empty as the L.A. Clipper’s clubhouse at playoff time. The wheels themselves look nice enough; it’s just that since the Sports model comes with 18-inch wheels, the designers had to make the wheel wells big enough to accommodate 18 inches and that leaves way too much room when equipped with the 16-inch wheels.

The interior of the new Sonata is not as revolutionary as the exterior. Instead, it is a nice evolution of the previous interior which now looks a little pudgy in comparison. The new model comes with a foot-operated electronic parking brake which has allowed Hyundai to position the shift lever closer to the driver. This move frees up a bit more room on the center console and makes it easier to access the storage bin, power outlet, and USB jack below the HVAC controls.

Perhaps the biggest change in the new interior is the gauges. The new gauges are, for lack of a better word, more engaging than those in the previous generation car. The car I drove was equipped with the Supervision Cluster which offers a higher contrast display and upgraded driver information center over the standard cluster. Both clusters come with ‘floating’ digital temperature and fuel gauges positioned in the center of the tachometer and speedometer. This not only looks good, but it’s also a good use of space.

The driver information center in both of these sets of guages displays instant and average fuel economy, distance to empty, average speed, and so on, but the Supervision Cluster offers the information in a larger, clearer, and more interactive format. This is due to the Supervision Cluster’s 3.5-inch TFT screen located between the tachometer and the speedometer. It does a wonderful job of displaying useful information, clearly, quickly, and dare I say it, in a intruiging way. The display graphics are so well done that I often found myself paying more attention to them than to the road. Just don’t tell Ray LaHood.

The interior plastics range from good to high quality. Some are a little hard and ‘plasticy’ for my liking, but fortunately nothing looks like it has come from the Tic Tac factory. This interior is far and away the best available in Korea in its class, and leaps and bounds better than the outgoing Sonata. If the last model seemed like a good start, the new Sonata seals the deal.

Hyundai has said that it hopes to do with this generation Sonata what Ford did with the first-generation Taurus, namely turn the entire automobile industry on its ear. The first-generation Taurus was unlike anything else on the road, a game changer for the entire car industry. Though the Y20 Sonata probably won’t change the entire industry the way the Taurus did, it also doesn’t need to. The road from Hyundai’s modest roots to this car was one of steady, incremental progress. This Sonata is merely an improvement on the last one, but it’s also the culmination of years of experience and development. In short, the perfect symbol of Hyundai’s transformation.