Kia’s mission in America over the past decade was to compete squarely with the likes of Honda and Toyota. Lately however, the plucky South Korean brand seems to have larger aspirations. With the new Optima and Sportage turbos it would appear that Kia may just have budget near-luxury brands in mind as competition. Competition is fierce in the CUV market and the cute-ute segment is especially cut-throat with (by my count) no fewer than 11 vehicles that more-or-less compete directly with the Sportage. Among the main competition lurk the likes of the Rav 4, CR-V, Rogue, Juke, Compass, Patriot, Escape, Tiguan, Equinox, RDX and possibly the Q5.

However the 260HP turbo Sportage SX is possibly a different beast, and if you were to whittle this list down to just the 200HP+, turbocharged competition the list gets considerably shorter: Tiguan, Q5 and RDX. As Kia continues their claw upmarket, it should come as no surprise that Acura’s baby crossover should be found in Kia’s crosshairs. The question is: does the Sportage have what it takes to convince entry-level luxury CUV shoppers to stop at the Kia dealer? Or is this just faster competition for the RAV 4 and CR-V? Michael Karesh was able to get a Sportage SX turbo for a day from a local dealer, but what’s it like for a week? Lets find out.

From the outside, the new Sportage strikes a much more aggressive pose than the outgoing model. The clean lines and angular styling echo many of Acura’s latest design cues without being as “me-too” as previous Kia products. The large corporate grill looks at home on the Sportage and possibly better suited to the compact CUV than some of the other products that wear this nose.  While styling opinions vary, one thing seems to be universal: the Sportage’s proboscis is far more attractive than Acura’s ungainly beak.  In addition to the new engine, the SX model also gets large 18-inch wheels, a unique grill, dual exhaust, tweaked sills, aluminum door scuff plates, a different instrument cluster and some optional unique interior trim. Oh, and that T-GDI badge on the rear hatch.

The new Sportage’s interior was something of a let-down after spending a week inside the new Optima. That’s not to say the Sportage’s interior isn’t competitive, it’s just not class leading the way the new Optima SX is. Compared to other new Kia products, there are fewer soft touch plastics and no stitched-dash-trim bits to be found. Still, the interior is notably better than the majority of the competition in truth only a notch behind the likes of the more expensive Acura RDX. Even the new CR-V we crawled around inside during our coverage of the LA Auto Show only matches the Kia in interior refinement. Lesser Sportage trims are available in a two-tone grey motif that looks decidedly up-market,  the SX model however is available only in black, however the black-on-black-on-black interior of our test car made the interior feel a bit too cold and dark for my tastes.  The daring black and orange we saw on the 2011 model seems to have found few homes and is sadly no longer available. In comparison the interior of the RDX is a higher rent for sure, but the difference is mostly in design rather than component quality as the plastics inside the RDX are no more inspiring than the Kia. The RDX serves up similar proportions to the Kia but offers a modest 1.7 cubic feet more cargo room than the Sportage.

As is often the case with specialty trim-lines, it’s what’s under the hood that makes the SX worth the second look (and possible competition for the near luxury crowd). While the base Sportage gets by with a naturally aspirated 2.4L four-cylinder Hyundai/Kia Theta engine good for a middling 176HP and 168lb-ft of torque, the Sportage SX gets the new 2.0L turbocharged four-cylinder direct-injection engine from the new turbo Optima and Sonata. The new forced induction mill is tuned for 260HP at 6,000RPM and a beefy 269 lb-ft of torque from 1,850-3,000RPM. Like many turbo engines, the SX’s torque curve is flat, but unlike many turbo engines on the market it tapers off somewhat quickly at the top end. Compared to the heavy hitters in the near luxury segment, the SX tops the forced induction group with VW’s 2.0L turbo delivering 200HP and 206lb-ft of torque, Audi’s 2.0L cranking out 211HP/258lb-ft, and the RDX ‘s 2.3L turbo delivering 240HP/260lb-ft. The Theta turbo also delivers arguably more punch than the Q5′s 3.2L V6 or BMW’s naturally aspirated 3.0L inline-6. The cost for this extra punch? $2,500 more than a comparably equipped Sportage EX.

The RDX and other compact near-luxury CUVs sell on acceleration, sporty handling with a modicum of cargo capacity while the mass-market CUVs seem to focus mostly on upright seating, and this is where the Sportage seems to straddle the fence. Out on the road the light weight (3,466lb vs 3931 for the RDX), stiff chassis and wide 235-series 18-inch rubber conspire to make the Sportage a near equal to the RDX (or dare I even say EX35) when the going gets twisty despite not having Acura’s slick torque-vectoring SH-AWD system. Kia fitted their latest electric power-steering system to the Sportage SX which provides more road feel and feedback than I had expected. When throwing the baby-SUV into corners, the Sportage compares favorably with the premium compact CUVs on the market. What little the Sportage SX gives up to the RDX in handling, it makes up for it in straight line performance running to 60MPH 0.3 seconds faster than the RDX turbo and finishing the  quarter-mile 0.4 seconds faster as well. The SX also ran to sixty 0.4 seconds faster than a 2011 AWD RAV 4 I got my hands on, and 0.7 seconds faster than the Audi Q5 2.0T we tested in April.

Directing the power to the tarmac is the Hyundai/Kia 6-speed automatic transmission and an optional AWD system. Much like the RDX however, AWD is essential if you care about on-road performance as the turbo brings the torque to a boil quickly. (A FWD model we tested suffered from wheel hop and severe front-wheel-peel at the merest press of the go pedal). Kia’s AWD system uses a center clutch pack (rather than a true center differential) that can connect or disconnect the rear wheels at will but (unlink SH-AWD) will never send more than 50% of the power to the back. Sadly Kia chose not to snag the Optima SX’s paddle shifters for use on the Sportage SX, nor did the slightly sportier transmission programming make a cameo. When driven hard, the transmission is eager to down-shift to do your right-foot’s bidding, but its just as eager to up-shift as you brake to enter the next curve. While Kia does provide a manumatic mode, it is a bit slow to react and without paddle shifters, its less convenient to use as well. The RDX’s 5-speed transmission is more willing to dance and the shift paddles make commanding (and staying in) a particular gear easier.

Now to the nitty-gritty: While the base, naturally-aspirated, FWD Sportage starts at a reasonable $18,500, stepping up to the SX turbo with AWD will cost you an extra $9,900, bringing your total to $28,400. The FWD SX may be $2,000 cheaper and deliver 2 more highway MPGs, but trust me, powering all four wheels is worth both costs. Besides, if you cared about economy you’d be buying the base FWD Sportage anyway. Our tester also wore the $2,000 premium package which gets you the panoramic sunroof, power mirrors with turn-signals, auto-dimming rear-view mirror, heated front seats and a cooled driver’s seat. The $1,000 navigation system option bumped our as-tested price to a somewhat steep $32,200. While I (like many of you) gasped at the total, a quick trip to my local Honda and Toyota dealers revealed the Sportage SX is actually a hair cheaper than a comparable RAV-4 (5 seater). Adjusting for options and the engine upgrade, the Sportage SX costs about the same as Honda’s CR-V, but is a significant $6,680 cheaper than a comparably equipped RDX which starts at $32,895 and comparably equipped (to our fully-loaded tester) rings in at $37,995.

There was a time where Kias were the cheap option, once that age ended, Kias became the value option, and today Kia has become a mainstream player. The Sportage is a perfect example of this transition, when Kia’s Sportage rolled into the light in 1993, it was cheap, and, well, cheap. The second generation Sportage was a value option to the main-stream shopper and as such, its faults could be forgiven because of its price. The base Sportage seems to slot firmly in the mainstream CUV line-up with competitive pricing, competitive features and average performance. Meanwhile, the Sportage SX seems to aspire to the near-luxury segment, trying to sell on handling and acceleration. While I’m not 100% sure the Sportage is ready to lock swords with Acura on the CUV battlefield, it is a very solid alternative for CUV shoppers. Of course, I value the “deal” so while the RDX is still the better small crossover, the Sportage SX is a close second and my personal choice, it’s just not quite near-luxury material yet. Wait till the fourth generation for that.

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

Statistics as tested

0-60: 6.1 Seconds

1/4 Mile: 14.6 Seconds @ 96 MPH

Fuel Economy: over 629 miles, 23.0MPG

“You know,” editor Ed told me, “that would be, about, like, a Take Four on the Soul, we’re not gonna do that.” I’d rented a 2011-vintage Kia Soul for a LeMons race in Houston and had been quite impressed. Although the powertrain (the traditional two-liter Hyundai/Kia four-banger and a lackluster four-speed auto) hadn’t been stellar, the rest of the car was just awfully useful and pleasant besides. Nevertheless, Ed wouldn’t let me review the thing. Oh well. If you want to know what we thought about the Soul, collectively speaking, (zing) you can read Ed’s 2010 Sport review and Frank Williams’ Take Two.

To ensure that I would have a chance to talk about this very interesting little car, however, Kia went through the trouble of thoroughly revising the Soul just a few months after my initial drive… and they were kind enough to have just one six-speed manual version available during the press introduction. I snagged said manual-transmission Soul with ferocity and am ready to convey all the details to you. For those of you too diffident to click the jump, here’s the sum-up: Great car, shot in the foot at its launch by a rather unfortunate decision on Kia’s part…

Although the Soul hasn’t been in production very long, its “reverse halo” position at Kia, along with its recent (and unexpected) domination of American subcompact sales charts, dictates that some of the weak points be shored up sooner rather than later. So welcome a new nose, tail, and revised dashboard. LED running lights and taillights make an appearance on the top-line “!” model, the new Microsoft UVO infotainment system is an option, and the lineup has been rationalized to eliminate the top-shelf “Sport” with its individual suspension tuning.

More importantly, the old 1.6 and 2.0 have been replaced by direct-injection, new-generation efforts. The 1.6 is the same engine as found in the Veloster, Accent, and Rio; the 2.0 is a 164-horsepower Elantra transplant. Fuel mileage has improved considerably; the two-liter automatic is now rated at 26/34 city/highway. Choosing the “eco” package with stop/start technology bumps that to 27/35. The base Soul comes with the 1.6 and a manual transmission at $13,900 plus destination or $15,700 for the automatic. The “+” trim adds the two-liter, some shiny stuff inside and out, and retails at $16,900 for the manual transmission. That’s the car I drove. The top-end “!” trim is an automatic only at $19,600. Leather is an option as well. It’s possible to spend well over twenty grand on a Soul, if you’re so inclined.

At seventeen grand or so, however, the six-speed “+” makes a solid argument for itself. The interior is high-quality, the metal trim is convincing, and the “SOUL”-logoed cloth seats look durable. Despite the Soul’s barn-door aerodynamic profile, it’s remarkably quiet inside and rides very well. It won’t fatigue or annoy you; Frank Williams’ suggestion that the Soul was meant for middle-aged men won’t get any contradiction from me. Both rows of seats continue to be spacious and comfy. The doors click shut with precision. If your last experience of a cheap Korean car was a 2001 Elantra or something like that, you will be amazed.

Unlike its Rio cousin, the Soul has a perfectly adequate sound system and the Bluetooth integration is very easy to use. I made a few calls and had no trouble understanding or being understood. Although temperatures at the Austin, TX press event were in the 98-104 degree range (F, not C!) the Soul had no trouble cooling the cabin. It has to help that there just isn’t that much glass in the car.

Dynamically, the Soul is a real pleasure. A few of my fellow journos complained that the aluminum-topped shifter was “long-throw”. Maybe in comparison to a Grand-Am BMW. Regardless, it’s swift and sure to operate. Clutch effort is about nil; the first few times I engaged the pedal I was afraid something was wrong with the car. Once underway, the direct-injected two-liter pulls along with authority. The ratios are wide, and sixth gear is tall enough to effectively prevent acceleration up even a mild hill, but let’s keep things in perspective here: this low-priced Korean box is still about as quick as Tom Selleck’s Ferrari 308GTSi. It won’t encourage any high-g antics, but surely that isn’t the point of these boxy subcompacts. The engine note is more cultured than thrashy, and it doesn’t sound terribly direct-injected. At idle, the Soul isn’t subjectively much louder than a Lexus ES.

For once in my life, I feel sorry for American Toyota dealers. Scion had this market pretty much sewn-up with the original xB, but the successor to that vehicle just isn’t compelling or focused enough to bring those buyers back. Instead, they are flocking to Souls at the rate of about ten thousand new owners per month. (Last month’s sales were down to about 7,000 units; Kia PR folks assured me that was due to reduced 2011-model inventory.) The Soul has true multi-generational appeal. Fifty-year-olds appreciate the high seats and quiet freeway ride. Twenty-five-year-olds like the features, the look, and the hamster marketing. Everybody likes the price.

What’s not to like? Well, there isn’t much real cargo space available. Four friends can roll in a Soul, but only two amigos will be able to travel in one. Parking is a bit more difficult than one might think; the rear corners aren’t easily discernible. I’d also have some concerns as to the durability and service needs of these first-effort direct-injection engines from the Hyundai/Kia group.

Do we have room left in this article to make an Eldridge Cleaver joke? Yes we do. This new Kia is so hot… that the dealers may be forced to keep their Souls on ice. (Oooooooh.) Unfortunately for said dealers, however, there’s one little bitty problem with the manual-transmission models. Many of the people who ordered 2012 Souls, or took early delivery from dealer stock, were under the impression that they were getting a car with cruise control. This was because Kia’s marketing materials seemed to indicate that the manual-transmission Souls, like their automatic-transmission counterparts, had cruise control as standard equipment. According to Kia owner forums, many Souls were delivered to the dealer, and from there to their new owners, with cruise control listed on the Monroney sticker. The official line from Kia is that there was a “last-minute” change. This owners’ forum thread details a lot of disappointment and anger on the part of early adopters — and Kia isn’t doing a lot to make things right.

It’s difficult to imagine Toyota or Honda making a mistake of this magnitude, but they’ve had a few decades’ more practice at controlling the specifications of imported vehicles, communicating with dealers, and resolving issues with the end users. This isn’t good news. As a former car salesman, I can attest that it’s not a promising sign when buyers feel they have to verify every feature on the window sticker. Though it affects a small percentage of Soul owners, it’s an issue that Kia needs to address pronto.

It’s also simply ridiculous that Kia doesn’t feel that it can or should include cruise control on a manual-transmission vehicle. The buyers want it, the technology has been available for a very long time, and the actual cost of such a feature on a modern direct-injection engine is almost zero. If you can live without cruise control, the manual-transmission Soul is an entertaining, useful vehicle. For those who can’t, perhaps the Scion xB isn’t such a ridiculous choice after all.

In his novel Excession, sci-fi writer Iain M. Banks introduced the concept of the “Outside Context Problem”. It’s described like so:

The usual example given to illustrate an Outside Context Problem was imagining you were a tribe on a largish, fertile island; you’d tamed the land, invented the wheel or writing or whatever… you were in a position of near-absolute power and control which your hallowed ancestors could hardly have dreamed of and the whole situation was just running along nicely like a canoe on wet grass… when suddenly this bristling lump of iron appears sailless and trailing steam in the bay and these guys carrying long funny-looking sticks come ashore and announce you’ve just been discovered, you’re all subjects of the Emperor now, he’s keen on presents called tax and these bright-eyed holy men would like a word with your priests.

The current players in the subcompact game have defined their roles pretty well. Yaris: cheap and crappy. Versa: metal for money. Fit: Magic Seat and Honda markup. Fiesta: sporty, but pricey and slow. Sonic: Second-tier Korean car made by UAW labor. Putting aside the Accent (which we’ll get to in a bit), those were your choices. This situation has worked out pretty well for all involved, because with the exception of Nissan nobody was looking for volume anyway and the rest of it amounted to eco-friendly window dressing, lip service to the media loudmouths who talk about small cars and then catch a limo ride home to Park Avenue. It’s a happy little society.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, however, there’s an Outside Context Problem arriving at Kia showrooms. The 2012 Rio is good. It is cheap. Compared to its competitors, it’s even fast. If you’re swimming in this segment, you’re about to see blood in the water.

TTAC readers know that Kia is on a bit of a roll lately. During the media presentation which accompanied our Rio test drive, the company’s PR people hammered all the relevant numbers directly into our brains. ALG residuals for their products have soared from the outhouse (37% for the Amanti) to the penthouse (55% or above for many current models). Their median buyer age is below the industry average, while their median education level is up. Some of that change is due to savvy marketing, but a lot of the gains have come the old-fashioned way of simply building a better mousetrap.

The 2012 Rio is handsome enough to these eyes, sporting the new Kia brand-identity face in front and bearing a considerable resemblance to the old SEAT Leon in the back. On the road, it looks more European than Korean, and perhaps more importantly it takes its proportional cues from the next class up. There’s no Fiesta/Fit/Yaris tall-car/toy-car vibe here. Kia was unashamed about the fact that a few interior dimensions have been reduced from the outgoing model, particularly for the rear passengers. Unlike the competition, Kia has two entrants in this segment — Rio and Soul — and therefore it doesn’t need to provide a high roof. If you want to wear a homburg while you drive, or if you want to carry a double bass, buy a Soul.

Behold, the premium sixteen-thousand-dollar car. While the interior shot comes from the completely-loaded $19,900 SX model, the fundamentals are there from $13,600 and up. The steering wheel would be an upgrade to any number of vehicles including the Corvette ZR-1, while the interior materials are rather disturbingly reminiscent of the Infiniti G25. I had to grab my test car in a bit of a hurry during the event and spent two hours behind the wheel thinking “This is a really solid interior for nineteen grand.” It wasn’t until I reached the end of the drive and looked at the exterior badging that I realized I’d been driving the $16,000 mid-level model. This is the class-leading interior without a doubt, and by some clear distance. Visibility is excellent all-around, helped not a bit by the silly triangle windows in the A-pillar, and the gauges are easy to read. The metal-finish center console offers some nifty “aircraft toggles” for the defroster, A/C compressor, and a few other things. They are satisfying to operate, even if the driver will never be fooled into believing that he is flying an aircraft. The available feature set is extremely complete, including the expected (Bluetooth), the useful (heated seats) and the positively premium (keyless start).

My test car had the “Powered by Microsoft” UVO system for iPod integration. It works about the same way that SYNC does, and is likely about the same as SYNC under the skin. UVO had no issue passing my personal voice recognition test (“Play… Artist Vladimir Ashkenazy”) and it indexed 118GB of music from my iPod Classic in about ten minutes. Unfortunately, that’s where the good news stops; the audio quality was severely disappointing, so much so that I stopped the car so I could roam around the cabin and make sure all the speakers were working. If there is anything on the Rio which connects it to the Hyundai and Kia small cars of a decade ago, it’s this stereo. Not only is it low-fi, it’s underpowered. A few other autojournos told me they’d turned it all the way to “Max” volume just to hear the music over the road noise.

Which leads us to the Rio’s primary over-the-road fault. The mechanical noises are very well-damped, so much so that it’s tough to tell if the engine is running at stoplights, but once underway it’s simply loud in the cabin. The top-end SX model, with its 17″ wheels and sport-tuned suspension, is likely even worse. On the positive side, the Rio is the only car in its class to have power folding mirrors, as seen in the photo above. All I can say is that the young woman driving that white Rio kept her mirrors folded for the entire trip. No, wait. I can also say that she was stunning-looking.

The rest of the Rio’s dynamic package is very satistfying. The engine is surprisingly strong, twisting 138 horsepower out of 1.6 liters thanks to direct injection. According to Kia, the manual-transmission “take rate” of the Rio is slightly under five percent, so they’ve made the autobox mandatory for all but the cheapest model. This is a genuine shame, because the conventional torque-converter six-speed slusher really does blunt the 1.6′s verve. The Rio is very far from being a “hot hatch” but in my hands it romped up to 105mph with no difficulty whatsoever and there appeared to be plenty more left.

Handling with the non-sport suspension was on the pleasant side of perfectly adequate. The Rio feels nimble, although it doesn’t have the Fiesta’s reflexes, and the steering feel is well-damped and perfectly communicative. Kia’s press launch was held north of Austin, TX, which significantly limited the opportunities to test handling and braking. Most of the gentle curves in the Texas two-lanes were easily swallowed at eighty-five or ninety miles per hour, and the descents were rare enough that the brakes never got taxed. All Rio models do have four-wheel discs, which will surprise and delight Honda conquests.

So, let’s review. Looks nice on the outside. Looks nice on the inside. Top-notch interior, comprehensive feature set. Reasonably spacious but not tall-roofed or supermini-proportioned. A choice of six-speed transmissions and 138 horsepower. One thing I didn’t mention: the Rio hits the mandatory 40mpg mark with both transmissions, and there will be an extra 1mpg in the city from an optional stop-start system coming in 2012 proper. None of this sounds terribly revolutionary.

Except. This is a subcompact. It’s a subcompact that sells for less money than the competition. It’s a real car for less than the price of a high-roofed runabout. The base car is perhaps the best value in the market, while the loaded model offers an ES350′s worth of equipment for half the price. It doesn’t punish its owner for saving money and it doesn’t scandalize the neighbors by announcing your poverty. Compared to its Accent sibling, it has all of that car’s virtues plus a two-fisted helping of style and upscale appeal.

With this new model, the Rio has jumped from being off-the-radar credit-criminal transportation to the class-leading entry. It’s become my default answer to “what new car should I buy?” If you have less than twenty grand, expect to hear a Rio recommendation. (If you have more than twenty grand, I suggest the Veyron Sang Noir.) The only thing that stops me from being a complete Rio evangelist is the fact that the company has explicitly not stated any plans to build the car in the United States. Perhaps the weak dollar will eventually change that. In the meantime, the Rio is the best small car money can buy for almost nearly everyone. Drivers who need slightly more space and/or a little extra utility will have to look elsewhere, but as we will see later on in this week, they’ll be looking in the same dealership.

I’m a product of the 1970s, and as a result I was just the right age to remember when Kia came on the scene in 1992 (available for sale 2 years later), the first Kias were cheap to buy but fairly cheaply made as well prompting the running joke was that Kia meant: “Korean, Inexpensive, and Awful.” Fast forward to 2011; Kia/Hyundai products are on an impressive roll, sporting competitive looks and competitive features without the sting of a large price tag. Could the new Optima Hybrid be the frugal shopper’s green alternative to the mainstream Camry and Fusion or even the Lexus HS250h? Let’s find out.

From the outside, the new Optima is by far the looker of the mid-size hybrid segment. The Fusion hybrid is handsome but plain-Jane, the Camry has never stuck me as attractive with its oddly droopy beak and the new 2013 Camry’s exterior strikes me as “beige re-imagined”. Similarly, the Hyundai Sonata Hybrid (the Optima’s close cousin) just doesn’t get my juices flowing, looking in my mind like it is trying to be too Japanese rather than something unique. Similarly the HS250h is dreadfully boring and feels more like a Corolla with leather than a “real” Lexus. The Optima on the other hand checks all the right boxes for me from the aggressive front grille and headlamps to the kinky C-pillar. Opinions varied wildly, but I have to say Kia’s hybrid alloy wheel option set an unexplainable fire in my loins.  Right about now is the point where you either agree with me or not as styling is a subjective business and indeed my better half despised the wheels as much as I loved them. Go figure. Unlike Michael who reviewed the Optima EX back in January, I don’t find the front overhang to be too much of a styling faux pax, but then again, I don’t mind the usual FWD proportions either. Like EPA numbers with hybrids, your styling mileage may vary.

On the inside, the Optima appears to be what a modern Saab might look like (if they hadn’t been bought by General Motors and lost their way). The hybrid’s cabin and option list is essentially the same as the Optima EX with the driver-focused center console, dual-zone climate control, large air vents and infotainment systems positioned high on the dash. While the major components are shared with the Hyundai Sonata, the overall look is fairly distinct. Our tester came with the optional “leatherette” stitched trim around the instrument panel, replacing the base model’s shiny plastic dash components with faux cow. The look makes the Optima’s dash fairly upscale in comparison with the Camry and Fusion competition.

While the button array on the dash was found to be distracting to some, I found this to be a relatively minor complaint and as I’m a gadget person at heart I acclimated fairly quickly. While the button layout is not as logical as I would like, by the end of the week I was successfully stabbing buttons in the dark without an issue. Standard equipment has lately been a Kia hallmark and the Optima Hybrid is no different; power mirrors, fog lamps, iPod/USB integration, touch screen radio, steering wheel audio and phone controls, Bluetooth, dual-zone climate control, one-touch power windows, air conditioned glove box, trip computer, auto-dimming rear view mirror and power driver’s seat are among the long list of standard features on the Optima Hybrid. To keep prices at that low Kia level the hybrid sports only one option: the $5,000 “premium package”. While sticker shock applies with any package this pricey, but the package contents are worth it in my book. Five-large gets you the panoramic sunroof, navigation system, backup camera, up-level Infinity sound system, HID headlamps, 17-inch wheels, power passenger seat, heated and cooled front seats, heated rear seats, snazzier trim bits, auto dimming rear-view-mirror, and the holy grail: the heated steering wheel. Seriously, who at Kia comes up with these things? They need a raise. I have a special love for the heated wheel and you can take away all my squishy dash bits if you just give me auto climate control, cooled seats and a heated wheel I’m a happy man.

Standard tech has recently become a Kia hallmark and the Optima Hybrid is no different. USB and iPod integration is standard, as is Bluetooth connectivity. The Optima Hybrid is the first Kia to come with the new UVO infotainment system by Microsoft. Comparisons to Ford SYNC are inevitable and warranted. The UVO stacks up well overall but seems to lack the polish of SYNC. Still, if you want to voice command specific tracks from your iPod, SYNC and UVO are basically your only options. Stepping up to the premium package gets the shopper Kia’s large screen navigation system and eight speaker Infinity audio system. Unfortunately the up-level package does not come with UVO which means you need to control your Apple device via the on-screen menu rather than by voice. Bummer. The navigation software is quite responsive, fairly intuitive and thankfully allows a passenger to enter a destination while the car is in motion. The premium package integrates the climate control into the large display as well as the crisp hybrid status displays. Someone needs to explain the “earth” page to me however because it seems to indicate that the earth is resting on some large roller bearings with a hybrid drivetrain making the world-go-round. No I say, it’s the legion of tiny fairies that make my globe spin!

Under the hood the Optima Hybrid beats a 2.XL four-cylinder engine, essentially the same “Theta-II” engine in the majority of Hyundai/Kia models but retuned to run on a modified Atkinson cycle. In hybrid form the engine turns out 168HP at 6,600 RPM and 154 lb-ft at 4,250 RPM. Much like the Infiniti M35h we reviewed recently, Kia removed the torque converter replacing it with a pancake motor and a set of clutch packs. The electric motor adds 40HP from 1,400-6,000 RPM and 150 lb-ft of torque from 0 to 1,400 RPM, which, like the M35h, combines with the engine’s figure in a more linear fashion than do the Prius or Fusion’s CVT motor/generator setup with a combined power output of 206HP at 6,000 RPM and 195-lb-ft of torque at 4,250 RPM. The clutch packs enable the Optima to operate under electric-only, gasoline-only, or both. Starting the engine is handled by a new starter/generator that replaces both the alternator and starter on the regular Theta II engines. Once the engine has started and has rev matched the transmission’s input shaft, the clutch packs locks up and you’re off.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Located behind the rear seats, the lithium-polymer battery pack is a technological step above the majority of hybrids including the Prius and Camry. The 1.4kWh, 270V pack’s high power density (compared to Ni-MH) is more of a necessity in the Optima however, as the platform is not a bespoke hybrid like the Prius. As a result, the trunk’s space is reduced from a middle-of-the-road 15.5 cu-ft to a smallish 9.9cu-ft. Kia was able to maintain the trunk pass-through for hauling longer items. Still, the 9.9 cu-ft is a step below the 11.8 provided in the Ford Fusion, 10.6 in the Camry Hybrid and 12.1 in the Lexus HS250. If a class trailing cargo capacity stings, the Optima makes up for it with 4-inches more front legroom than Camry, admittedly this comes at the expense of 4-inchec of legroom in the rear. Pick your poison.

Out on the road the Optima delivers a firm, quiet ride. Due to the lower cd of .25 vs the regular Optima’s .28 combined with the frequent all-electric locomotion, noise is particularly muted in the hybrid model. Speaking of all-electronic driving, rather unlike the Camry Hybrid, the Optima spends a considerable amount of time in electric-only mode, for better or worse. With the cruise control set to 65 MPH on a level highway, the Kia will run electric only until the battery is partially depleted, then start the engine and charge the battery while running on the engine, then once charged, it will shut down the engine and run on electric power again. This is decidedly different than the other mid-size hybrids on the market which run their gasoline engine constantly at highway speeds. The 6-speed automatic transmission is up-shift happy as are most sedans with a leaning towards frugality. If you prefer a smooth CVT experience the other hybrids will be your cup of tea, if shifts are more your thing, the Optima delivers in spades. When the road gets twisty the low-rolling resistance tires certainly tone down the excitement, but no more than they do in the Fusion which is probably still the “sportiest” mid-size hybrid on the market thanks no doubt to the wider 225-width rubber.

Of course Hybrids are all bout fuel economy and the Optima is no different delivering a respectable EPA score of 35/40/37 MPG (City/Highway/Combined) which places it behind the Fusion’s 41/36/39 MPG score and the (2012) Camry’s 43/39/41 but ahead of the HS250h’s 35/34/35. If highway cruising describes the majority of the miles on your future hybrid, the Optima is the natural choice as it delivers the highest highway numbers in the bunch, four MPGs more than Fusion. Of course, the glaring problem here is that a seeming bevy of new cars will match the Optima Hybrid’s 40MPG on the highway including the Cruze Eco, Fiesta, Focus and Elantra. You may have noticed I’m ignoring the Sonata Hybrid. That’s because in my mind choosing between the Optima and its kissing-cousin is more like deciding between the blue car and the red car as they differ mainly in style not substance. During our week with the Optima we easily averaged 40.4 MPG on the freeway and 32 MPG in heavy stop-and-go traffic, impressive numbers on the surface, but our week-long average fell to 35.5 MPG which is notably short of the EPA combined figure.

The Optima’s biggest feature, like most Kias, is its price tag. At $26,500 the Optima is significantly cheaper than the $28,600 Fusion or the $36,330 Lexus HS250h. Toyota has obviously decided the Optima is encroaching on their turf and the 2012 Camry Hybrid is now the cheapest in the bunch at $25,900.

So what should the greenie really buy? Is the new Camry Hybrid really the better car for the bargain hunter? No, the answer is: a turbo Optima of course. With EPA 22/34 MPG and 274HP/269lb-ft on tap for $29,600 it’s hard for the piston head to make the hybrid leap. Still, if a hybrid is in your future I would argue the Optima is the better value than the competition when you add in the $5,000 option pack. How is a $31,500 hybrid the better value? It still undercuts the loaded competition and delivers features like ventilated seats, heated rear seats, heated steering wheel and panorama roof not available on the other hybrids. If you want a smooth driving hybrid sedan under 30K, buy the Ford. If you want a great car under $30K, skip the Hybrid and just buy a turbo Optima, if you are seeking a premium hybrid sedan, give the fully-loaded Optima Hybrid a long look before you swing by the Lincoln or Lexus dealer.

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

Statistics as tested

0-30: 2.96 Seconds

0-60: 8.31 Seconds

1/4 Mile: 16.27 Seconds @ 88.4 MPH

Fuel Economy: 35.6 MPG over 489 miles

Though Hyundai owns a controlling stake in and shares platforms with Kia, the two Korean car companies continue to operate more independently than GM’s divisions did back in their heydays. So the decision between related products often comes down to something beyond price. Take, for example, the Kia Sportage. Why buy it instead of the related Hyundai Tucson?

Sure, styling is subjective, but some designs are clearly worse than others owing to unbalanced proportions or unresolved transitions. Not this time. The Sportage and Tucson share similar athletic proportions and neither exterior has an obvious flaw. The two design teams managed to craft shapes different from every competitor, and from each other. No exterior panels are shared, even the cutlines are different. With the Hyundai, there’s a complex combination of many angles. The Kia’s exterior is much cleaner, achieving a distinctive look through muscular forms that’s further enhanced by the SX’s 18-inch alloy wheels. The decision between them is highly subjective.

Inside, the Sportage’s design is again cleaner, to the point where it looks a bit cheap in the lower trim levels. Step up to the SX, though, and subtle detail changes together with perforated black leather seat surfaces make the interior seem more-or-less worthy of a price in the low 30s. The center stack controls are much easier to reach and to operate than those in the Tucson. One minor oddity: the temperature control for the driver’s seat, though it includes both heating and cooling rather than just heating, is half the size of the one for the passenger’s seat.

Forward visibility is decent in both SUVs, as it had better be since this is a key reason for the popularity of the segment. Still, the raked windshield forces a deep instrument panel and the A-pillars are on the thick side. Rearward visibility is fairly limited in the Tucson and even worse in the Sportage, thanks to unusually wide C-pillars. I wouldn’t be surprised if rearward visibility is the major reason people reject the Sportage after seriously considering it. The Sportage’s front seats don’t provide much lateral support, but are otherwise comfortable.

Given the Kia’s exterior dimensions, the rear seat is roomier and more comfortable than it has any right to be. Cargo space isn’t as generous, with 55 cubic feet compared to the 73 in a Toyota RAV4, and the front passenger seat doesn’t fold to further extend the load floor (it did with the previous-generation Sportage).

Then there’s the big difference compared to the Hyundai Tucson: Kia offers not only the corporate 176-horsepower 2.4-liter four, but also the direct-injected, turbocharged 2.0-liter first offered in the Hyundai Sonata Turbo, detuned a bit to peak at 260 horsepower (vs. 274). Standard in the Sportage SX, the boosted four feels strong, especially in the midrange, but sounds like nothing special and doesn’t stir the driver’s soul. The 269-horsepower V6 available since the 2006 model year in the Toyota RAV4 likely remains the segment’s performance champ. As in the Sonata, the turbo four seems tuned and tweaked to serve as a V6-substitute for mainstream buyers rather than for enthusiasts. One definite plus: unlike many turbos, it’s tuned to run on regular unleaded. Its big advantage over the 2.4 is the effortless, nearly lag-free acceleration with fewer revs in typical around-town driving. There’s only one transmission option in the SX: a homegrown manually-shiftable six-speed automatic. It doesn’t lug the 2.0T like it often does the 2.4, perhaps because the turbocharged engine produces far more torque at lower rpm (with a peak of 269 foot-pounds at 1,850). You can get the turbocharged engine with front-wheel-drive, but given this torque output all-wheel-drive is the better way to go.

Four-cylinder turbos are expected to increasingly replace V6s because they tend to be more fuel-efficient. In this case, the benefits are mixed. Based on the EPA ratings, the Kia 2.0T matches the 2.4 and outpoints the Toyota RAV4’s V6 in the city (21 vs. 19 miles-per-gallon), but doesn’t do quite as well on the highway (25 vs. 28 vs. 26). Proving that a four-cylinder turbo can actually get much worse fuel economy than a V6, Mazda’s CX-7 manages only 17 city and 21 highway while kicking out 16 fewer horsepower.

Even in SX trim, the Sportage’s suspension isn’t as taut as that in the Tucson, which was designed primarily for the European market. Still, the Sportage’s chassis feels solid and composed, with more steering feedback than you’ll get from the tragically numb system in the Tucson. The ride is generally smooth and quiet. There’s some jiggle over tar strips and the like, but this is typical of the segment.

Kia Sportage SX AWD pricing starts at $27,990, of which $2,500 goes for the turbocharged engine and a few additional minor features. A Premium Package (panoramic sunroof, keyless ignition, heated seats, rear obstacle detection, auto-dimming mirror with Homelink, cargo cover) adds $2,500. Leather with a cooled driver seat adds another $500, bringing the total for the tested vehicle to $30,990. And this is without the available $1,500 nav system. Yes, we have reached the point where a compact Korean SUV can cost over $30,000—they’re not just for cheapskates anymore. A similarly-equipped Toyota RAV4 Limited lists for only $449 more, a much smaller bump than in the past. Adjusting for feature differences using TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool adds about $1,000 to the Kia’s advantage. Not factored in: the Kia looks and feels like a more expensive vehicle than the Toyota.

The related Hyundai Tucson is better in some ways (handling, rearward visibility), but not so good in others (steering feel, ride quality, ergonomics). But the biggest difference is that, for undivulged reasons, Hyundai doesn’t offer the turbocharged engine in its compact SUV. So if you want 260 horsepower with a minimal fuel economy hit, your choice is obviously the Kia. There was a time when a turbocharged engine signified a driver’s car. Well, even with a torquey boosted four and a “sport suspension,” the Kia Sportage SX isn’t a poor man’s Audi Q5. What it is: a more stylish, better-finished, slightly more economical alternative to the Toyota RAV4 V6.

Summit Place Kia of Waterford, MI, provided the tested vehicle. They can be reached at (248) 682-6002.

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

The relationship between automotive writers and manufacturers is based on trust in the basic fairness (or pliability) of the writer, and usually it’s incumbent upon the writer to establish their  reliability before being trusted with a week-long tester. What many PR types and press fleet managers don’t seem to understand is that allowing even the snarkiest writer to actually spend time with a product actually helps create a more even-handed review than might result from a brief encounter.

Such was certainly the case with the 2011 Kia Sportage EX. My initial reaction was “boy is this thing cheap,” and had I spent only a day in the car, that would have been my major conclusion. The fact that two days earlier I had to turn in a $70,000 Jaguar XF Supercharged certainly reinforced that initial impression. And after a week with the Sportage I still think it pegs the cheepnis meter, so it’s a cheap car… but it’s an honest cheap car that delivers some real value.

The Sportage makes no pretensions of luxury, like the rental Aveo with fake wood on the dash that my mom rented while her Saturn got a new used engine. Everything on the Sportage interior is some kind of plastic in some shade of gray or silver. Some kind of hard plastic. True, at ~$28,000 it comes very well equipped (press cars, even from more modest marques, tend to come loaded with optional equipment and packages), with most of the conveniences that would satisfy just about every driver who isn’t used to luxury marques. Nav system, smart key, backup camera, leather seating surfaces, dual zone automatic climate control, power moonroof, heated and cooled front seats with forced ventilation on the driver’s side, 6 way power driver’s seat, satellite radio, USB port (I copied some music files to a thumb drive and discovered that you can look at photos with the nav screen – why you’d want to I don’t know but you can select Images from the menu).

Yet even with all those toys, Kia doesn’t try to hide the fact that they’re working the customers in the cheap seats. Well, perhaps, except for the exterior design. Everyone that saw the car commented on its good looks. Peter Schreyer’s team has done well creating an attractive styling identity for the brand and did a fine job on the Sportage. Okay, so maybe they indulged in a few pretensions. The Sportage sports (couldn’t resist it) some Audi-ish LED eyeliners that I suppose are fog lights but don’t do much to light up the road and were of no use in the scary heavy fog I experienced driving north through the Poconos. The regular headlamp units do a perfectly adequate job lighting up the road under normal circumstances.

Other than the styling, Kia’s penny pinching shows. Everything is there, just lacking in some capacity. The cheap seats those aforementioned customers will be sitting in, for example, are, well, cheap. They do have leather surfaces, at least that’s what the sticker says. I do machine embroidery in real life and work with motorcycle and car enthusiasts so I handle and sew lot of leather. If Kia says it’s leather, I’ll believe them. It’s just not very fine leather, though it is more supple than the vinyl used on the non-seating surfaces of the seats. Comfortable enough for long rides, the seats are hard rather than firm, and there isn’t much contouring in the bolsters. The inflatable lumbar support did make a long drive (1,300 miles in less than 30 hours) bearable, but only on the highest setting.

That kind of lack of refinement abounds in the Sportage. Even the sound effect for the turn signals sounds tinny and cheap. Yes the Sportage has four wheel disc brakes and big aluminum rims with black paint. The wheels, though, look cheap, dwarf the tiny brake rotors and rather than effect a Brembo-like look, the rough castings of the brake calipers reinforce the fact that everything on the Sportage has been designed to a price point. The glass moonroof works nicely but they left out the little tab that opens the sun visor below as the glass slides back. You could be driving around with a hole in your roof and not realize it for a while.

I will say that the nav/audio system controls were very good, integrating the touch screen with real buttons for instant access to features. I had to RTFM only once, to figure out how to activate Bluetooth, everything else was intuitive, and unlike some systems you don’t have to scroll through all the modes and bands just to turn on the AM radio. So the infotainment system was first rate, until you listen to it and you realize that just because a subwoofer looks good on the spec sheet doesn’t mean the system isn’t going to sound muddy. It’s nice having dual zone ACC, with great control features, it’s not so nice having it blow cool air on you when it’s 15 degrees F outside. The ACC units on the Mazdas, Honda and Jaguar that I’ve tested recently were all much less obtrusive. The Sportage made me think that Kia had a checklist of features that they wanted included, but they didn’t bother to make sure the implementation of those feature was done well. As long as the feature sheet is long seems to be the design brief. Even in Korea a C is a passing grade.

The Sportage comes with the now de rigueur nannies but between the way the DSC [stability control]  is programmed along with the aggressive traction control [TCS] and obtrusive ABS system, it makes the CUV harder to drive, at least for me. Though the Sportage was fine in most normal driving, some fairly common maneuvers seemed to confuse whatever electronic brain controls the Sportage’s dynamics. Sharp turns out of steep driveways would kick in the DSC as the rear wheels lost traction. Clipping a curb on a corner would do the same. Sometimes the Sportage would just react in a confused manner to steering and throttle inputs.

Detroit didn’t get a ton of snow in the blizzard that took down the Metrodome’s dome in Minnesota, but there was freezing rain first and a wet snowfall here followed by bitter cold so the roads as I write this are about as slippery as they can get. I found the DSC, TCS and ABS to make it harder to drive in bad conditions than easier. They may keep average appliance operators out of harms way but they can be infuriating to folks who can drive.

I’ve been driving in Michigan winters for over four decades. Front wheel drive, rear wheel drive, AWD and 4WD (this was the FWD version of the Sportage, which also is available in AWD spec), I’ve driven them all and haven’t gotten stuck even a half dozen times. I’ve kinda liked FWD in the snow since first driving my brother’s original Mini but with the exception of F-body GM products and empty pickup trucks, I’d feel safe in just about any layout in winter. I also prefer to use smooth, light, control inputs, including a gentle braking foot. In today’s severe snow and ice, the ABS was kicking in almost instantaneously, creating skids where manual (pedual?) control on braking wouldn’t have caused skids. Also in bad traction the DSC and TCS were making it harder to drive, not easier. In addition to taking control of the brakes, the stability  system overrides the ECU. I’m trying to power my way through the crud out there and the damn DSC and TCS are conspiring against me,  killing the engine just because of some wheel slip.

The suspension is harsh, rather than just stiff, though it mellows out on Interstate asphalt. Concrete surfaces are a different thing, with the Sportage being darty on the freeway, needing constant corrections from steering that is possibly the least-road-feel-imparting steering in automobiledom. I’d call it speed-insensitive steering. Kia calls it “motor” assisted so I assume it’s EPS. When I say that the steering is numb, I mean that, like it’s been shot with Novocaine, at all speeds, in all conditions. As good as the Mazda 3 steering feels, the Sportage is the polar opposite.

There is not a single soft surface that a human being can touch in the Sportage. Hard plastics don’t just abound, they proliferate. Even the fabric headliner has a coarse feel to it. I thought that acrid off-gassing smells in Kias were an internet legend, until I noticed some funny smells myself. There’s a very clever niche for a drink bottle molded into the storage bin on the door panel. There’s also a pictogram molded into the hard, gray plastic of the panel warning people to not put their Slurpees and other non-bottled drinks in there. Real classy.

Still, for all of the Sportage’s cheapness, the people who choose to buy one will not have buyer’s remorse. I say that not to demean anyone, I’m not exactly rich myself, but it’s no secret that Kia’s business model is appealing to the budget conscious. If “Imported From Detroit” is self-aware and self-destructive, doesn’t “The Power To Surprise” translate to “Not as cheap as you think”?

The Sportage may be cheap but it seemed to be screwed together well. Fit and finish was fine, metal surface quality, like on all Korean cars, is world class. Nobody will be embarrassed by the Sportage’s looks.  Everything worked, all week long, even if somethings didn’t work outstandingly.  By the time I turned the Sportage back in there were over 5,000 miles on the odometer. With the caveat that this is a pampered press fleet vehicle, there were no rattles or buzzes and nothing to indicate that you wouldn’t get 100,000 or more miles out of the car.

Though I was left with grudging respect for the new Sportage, it’s not a driver’s car by any means, nor was it intended to be. It was intended to be an inexpensive family sized crossover. Frankly the similarly priced Mazda 3 Grand Touring that I tested not long ago was a much more pleasurable drive and had a level of refinement that the Kia just can’t touch. The Sportage, though, is a much larger vehicle. While a family might be able to use the Mazda 3 as a daily driver, camping trips in it would be a bit of a squeeze.  The Sportage dwarfed a Kia Soul that I passed on the highway (driven by a young black lady, not a hamster). The front seats are wide enough for my big tuchas, the back seat will fit adults so the kiddies won’t complain and there’s a nice CUV sized storage area with a large back hatch.

If space, features, good looks, and above all, price are what you’re looking for in a small CUV, the 2011 Sportage is probably on your short list already. It’s a new car with all the modern bells and whistles, and it comes with a long warranty. According to TrueDelta A fully equipped Sportage is about $1,000 less than a fully equipped Honda CR-V. It also comes with about $2,ooo worth of equipment that you can’t get on the CR-V. You can spec a Chevy Equinox with comparable options to the Sportage and, again, the difference is about $3,000.  For many consumers, that savings of 10% or so is very important. For others, it may be worth it to pay a little more and get a more refined car.

Kia Motors provided the vehicle for this review, along with insurance and one tank of gas.

The Korean word for ‘five’ sounds like “oh,” as in, “Oh, Snap!” or “OMG.” So in Korea, that makes Kia’s new K5 a “K.O.,” at least in name. But does Kia’s new Camccord fighter actually land a knockout on the all-important D-Segment, or is it a mere win by decision?

One thing is certain: this doesn’t look like any Optima we’ve seen before. From a distance, the K5 cuts a distinctively aggressive and appealing profile. On closer inspection however, the exterior design begins to display a certain amount of visual discord. Consider the K5 an automotive Monet: gorgeous from a distance, but more than a little muddled at close quarters.

One of the biggest visual distractions is the chrome accent that runs along the top of the side windows. When that strip passes through the rear door and trunk lid openings, it creates a cacophony of cut lines that make it look a little like Chucky from the Child’s Play movies.

A little further rearward, the design disarray continues. The Audi-inspired tail lights conspire with the trunk opening and rear bumper to create an overhang that gives the K5 an unpleasant bucktooth appearance.

The front of the car displays more design non sequitur elements. The in-vogue-for-the-moment LED positioning lights look jarring against the incandescent fog lights. The bright white light of the LEDs overpowers the yellowish light of the incandescent bulbs. Also, the positioning lights do not follow the contour of the fog lights and therefore look like an afterthought. What’s worse, lower trim level models without the positioning lights are left with a vast expanse of black plastic in their place that wouldn’t look inappropriate in a Tic Tac factory.

Speaking of lights, another element that misses its mark is the “eyebrow” light near the back of the headlamp assembly. Perhaps this piece is meant to mimic the gorgeous light treatment on the K7 (Cadenza), but on the K5 it looks disjointed and incomplete.The final piece of the K5’s exterior design puzzle is the faux air intake on the fender. On some models it illuminates, which does help to give it some visual appeal, but on most models it’s as superfluous as Krusty the Clown’s third nipple.

The K5’s interior recalls an apartment I recently considered buying. Promotional literature for this apartment made much of the fact that the kitchen, living room, bathrooms and bedrooms had each been designed and decorated by a different world-class architect or designer. On paper, the idea of having a dream team of top architects and designers working on one project sounded like a good one; in reality, it failed miserably. The result was a hodgepodge of rooms with different shapes, colors, textures, and designs that looked as though each had been crafted without any consideration of the other. The finished product was completely incongruous and lacked both cohesion and coherence. The interior of the K5 seems to have suffered a similar fate. One good example is the way the dashboard meets the door panels.

It seems as though nobody considered that these two areas might someday appear together in the same space. There is a complete lack of unity or flow between the two elements, as if the doors had been designed by one person and the dashboard by another and neither person knew what the other was doing. The door panels themselves are another example of the interior’s lack of design rhythm. The speakers appear to have been added as an afterthought as they protrude tumor-like from the door, giving the whole affair a lopsided, front-heavy look . Finally, the gear selector, with its leather boot, faux-wood trim, high-gloss center point, and chrome release button, also exhibits the K5’s Frankenstein approach to interior design.

If this sounds overly-harsh, consider the K5′s own in-house competition. By comparison, the K5’s kissing cousin, the Hyundai Sonata, has an overall interior design concept that is much more cohesive; lines flow together in unbroken harmony with a sense of balance and unity. It’s a night-and-day difference from the design-by-committee look of the K5’s interior.

Sitting behind the wheel of the K5, the first thing you notice is that the steering wheel is smaller than you might expect. On the road, the wheel feels even smaller as its four spokes are crowded by no less than a dozen buttons. On the plus side, three of those buttons belong to the K5’s cruise control, a feature not commonly found on midsize cars in Korea. Across the street at the Hyundai dealership, both the Sonata and Grandeur (Azera) are green with envy as cruise control is unavailable on either.

Another nice trick hiding up the K5’s sleeve is its heated steering wheel. Hiding is the appropriate word here however, as the switch is completely obscured by the steering wheel and is nearly impossible to locate and just as hard to activate. It’s worth noting however, that this feature is unavailable on other cars in this class (at least in Korea), so kudos to the K5 for having it.

Speaking of heat, both the front and rear seats are heated with special antibacterial polymer heating elements called Heatex. Kia claims that Heatex provides more uniform heating and uses infrared waves to stimulate drivers’ and passengers’ internal organs. The car I drove included cooled front seats which delete the Heatex option in favor of conventional heating elements. This, plus the 95-degree heat the day I drove the car, meant that my internal organs didn’t have a chance to experience Heatex in action. I can report, however, that the cooled seats work quickly and effectively, despite being a little too loud for my liking. At stop lights, the constant drone of the cooling units had me wishing that they had an automatic start-stop system. In fact, I often turned them off manually while idling at red lights. However, the vertical layout of the switches seemed counterintuitive and I often ended up activating the passenger’s heated seat. I’d prefer a side-by-side switch layout.

Several first-drive reports from the Korean media have suggested that the K5’s seats are hard and uncomfortable. In the 90 minutes I spent with a KDM version, I found the seats to be comfortable but a little too flat for my liking, especially the bottom cushion. In addition, the driving position was noticeably low (lower than the Sonata) and the center console was noticeably high (higher than the Sonata) which combined to give the cockpit a cocoon-like feel. Interestingly, and somewhat uncommonly these days, Kia spent the extra nickel to include pictograms on the power seat control buttons. It’s a nice touch, but seemingly unnecessary as the only time anyone will see them is when the door is open. Front-seat legroom in the K5 is excellent as the seats offer extensive fore and aft adjustment. With the front seats in their furthest rearward position (a position they are likely never to be in, but that’s the way Kia measures legroom), the K5 has nearly three-quarters-of-an-inch more legroom than the Camry and a staggering 3.2 inches more than the Accord.

Front-seat headroom is a slightly different story, at least numerically. Interior headroom in the front is only three-quarters-of-an-inch more than in a Camry and is almost 1.5 inches less than an in an Accord. In the real world however, the interior at the front of the K5 feels roomy, perhaps due in part to the noticeably low seating position.

In the back seat, headroom is both numerically and realistically tight. At 57.3 inches, the K5’s roofline is lower than that of the Sonata (57.9), Camry (57.9), and Accord (58.1), and it feels that way! The K5 has the least rear-seat headroom of any of its three competitors; nearly a full inch less than the Accord, slightly more than half-an-inch less than the Sonata, and nearly a quarter inch less than the Camry. In addition, outward visibility while sitting in the back of the K5 is somewhat restricted because the side windows sweep upward. This upward sweep gives the exterior a fastback-esque appearance but combined with the low sloping roofline, makes the backseat feel somewhat claustrophobic. On the plus side, rear legroom is good. The K5 has nearly an inch more legroom than the Camry and about a quarter inch more than the Accord (again measured in the Kia way with the front seats positioned all the way rearward). Rear seat passengers can also enjoy their own air vents, but (strangely) only on vehicles equipped with an automatic transmission. The vents are a nice touch, but they cannot be opened and closed independently of each other as on the Sonata.

Overall, the K5’s interior is comfortable, roomy, well-equipped, and quiet. Kia engineers went to great lengths to make the K5 quiet. In fact, it has more sound insulation than both the Sonata and the larger more upscale K7 (Cadenza). That being said, its interior looks and feels somewhat bargain basement, especially in the lower trim levels and lacks design coherence and continuity across all levels.

Under the hood, the K5 uses the same 2.4-liter GDI engine as the Sonata. However, a keen eye will notice a few subtle differences in the engine bay. First, the K5 uses just a single gas strut fixed to the inside of the front wheel arch, whereas the Sonata uses two struts mounted to the outside. Cost savings for Kia and weight savings for the K5, perhaps?Also, the K5’s air intake is wider, lower, and better integrated than that of the Sonata’s.

Finally, the area near the firewall also differs between the K5 and the Sonata. The Kia has more insulation and a larger differently-shaped cowling near the windshield wipers, both of which are designed to reduce noise in the cabin.

Undoubtedly the K5 will be a hit for Kia, and it should be. It’s a quiet, well-equipped, affordable, and generally speaking, an attractive automobile. Unfortunately, it lacks the refinement necessary to compete against the likes of the Accord, Camry, and even its stablemate the Sonata. Had the K5 been given more of a sporting mission to match its extroverted exterior, it would make a stronger case for itself. Instead, the driving impression is extremely close to the Sonata only with less refinement. It throws a lot of punches, some of which hit and others of which miss, but at the end of the fight, the K5 falls short of being a K.O.

If you’re a driving enthusiast with a family and a sub-$20k budget, then a four-door sport compact tends to be the way to go. Unfortunately, you don’t have as many choices lately. Nissan’s, Honda’s, Suzuki’s, and VW’s suitably sporting offerings are priced out of reach. Mitsubishi is barely hanging on with the Lancer GTS. Toyota offers the Corolla XRS, but few enthusiasts take it seriously. Only the Mazda3 sells well in this segment, but the new styling isn’t for everyone. Perhaps the Kia Forte SX? The lone Korean offers the most horsepower for the lowest price, and for 2011 will be available in practical hatchback form. But is it truly a contender?

If the Forte sedan looked nearly as good as the Koup, it would be the most stylish car in the segment. But it doesn’t. With a higher roofline without the Koup’s flared wheel openings, the boxier sedan borders on plain. With athletically-proportioned rear quarters—it’s 7.4 inches shorter than the sedan, all of it taken out of the rear overhang—the new hatch looks much better, if still not as sleek as the Koup.

Inside, a leather-wrapped steering wheel, metal pedals, and red stitching attempt a sporty ambiance, but can’t quite pull it off. The plastics of the center console try too hard to seem upscale when they’re clearly not. Nothing seems dreadfully cheap, though the area around the shifter comes close. Someone inside Kia must have agreed with this assessment, because the area around the shifter has been redesigned for the 2011s—after just a single model year. The high driving position pays dividends in visibility, but similarly suggests economy. Both the Mazda and Mitsubishi seem sportier and more substantial from the driver’s seat.

The driver’s seat itself is too little removed from its econocar roots. Red stitching and “sport fabric” aren’t enough. The more aggressively bolstered buckets from the Koup would be welcome. The back seat is better, with a high cushion providing unusually good thigh support. The trunk, at 14.7 cubes, is spacious. With its bobbed tail, the hatch won’t hold as much without the seat folded.

On the move, the Forte SX feels quick. Credit the 2.4-liter’s 173 horsepower, the short initial gearing of the six-speed manual, and a curb weight about 100 pounds less than the Mazda’s and 200 pounds less than the Mitsubishi’s—Kias aren’t pigs anymore. The 2.4 is louder and less refined than the engines in the Mazda and Mitsubishi, but not by too large a margin. The direct-injected 200-horsepower variant from the Hyundai Sonata would be a sweet upgrade. The new 274-horsepower turbocharged 2.0-liter would provide competition for the MazdaSpeed3, but would of course bump the price well over $20,000.

Shift feel tends to be a Hyundai-Kia weakness, and the Forte is no exception. Shift throws are long, and you’re clearly manipulating cables. Not awful, but also not a pleasure. The clutch takes up abruptly close the floor, and the engine stalls very easily, suggesting (with the willingness of the engine to rev) a relatively light flywheel.

The steering and handling are the best yet in a Korean compact, but still have a way to go to match the leaders. The steering is quick off center, and heavier than in the Mazda and Mitsubishi, but isn’t the most precise and doesn’t communicate the subtleties of the road surface. The 215/45HR17 Goodyear Eagle LS treads probably don’t help here. Body lean and understeer are restrained, but the suspension design (including a torsion beam in back) and tuning are less sophisticated than the Mazda’s and Mitsubishi’s. The ride can be choppy, especially on expansion joints, and the Forte feels less solid and composed over bumps. Though there are no glaring flaws, and the Forte is considerably more fun to drive than a Corolla or Cruze (which lacks a performance variant), that unspecifiable magic that melds driver and car proves elusive.

And the price? The 2010 Forte SX sedan lists for $18,190, which is about $1,500 less than the equivalent Mazda and Mitsubishi. So while definitely a good value, it’s not a steal. For 2011, the six-speed manual is no longer available in the sedan (if you want this combination, better snatch up the one I drove), but is standard in the new hatch. Compare 2011 model year hatchbacks—the Kia starts at $19,090—and the price difference remains about the same.

Kia hasn’t been in the sport compact game nearly as long as Mazda and Mitsubishi. The latter, after all, is currently working on the eleventh generation of the Evo, from which goodness trickles down to the Lancer. So it’s to be expected that the Forte can’t match the leaders in driving feel, even if it beats them on the spec sheet. There’s magic involved, and this magic requires years of practice. The Koreans have clearly started to put in the effort—the Forte SX might not be the best car, but it’s in the ballpark. If they keep at it, and the second-year tweaking suggests they will, they’ll get there.

The vehicle for this review was provided by Wayne Stempel of Summit Place Kia of Waterford, MI. Wayne can be reached at (866) 770-9552.

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

Back in 1997, when Volkswagen introduced the New Beetle, my wife badly wanted one because it seemed so much more young and fun than her current car. But she also wanted children. The two were not compatible, so no Beetle for her. No doubt she was not the only person seeking a cute, quirkily styled car with four doors. But at the time there were no such cars. Chrysler was arguably first to fill this void, with the PT Cruiser. So that’s what my wife has been driving for the past five years. Today there are a number of contenders. The latest: Kia’s Soul and Nissan’s cube. Which comes closest to the mark? Well, since you’re reading about the Soul first, clearly the cube. Here’s where the Soul falls short…

First, a step back. Japan has been awash in quirky small cars for years, but the 2004 Scion xB was the first to reach American shores. The extreme rectilearity of the xB polarized opinion. Most people found it ugly, but enough found its combination of anti-style, roominess, and economy appealing enough to make the first-gen xB a hit.

The Kia Soul is Korea’s response to that xB. It answers the question: what happens if you keep the basic box, but do more with it than add wheels? What if you actually put serious thought into the design? In the case of the Soul, an upward angled beltline, downward angled roofline, flared wheel openings, and various other details perfectly meld to form a much more attractive box. This is the sort of innovative yet cohesive design Honda used to be capable of, but somehow forgot how to do. The Soul hasn’t repulsed people the way the xB has, and I’d personally feel much more comfortable driving one.

But perhaps this is a sign that Kia hasn’t pushed the envelope hard enough. While attractive, the Soul doesn’t challenge aesthetic conventions the way the xB and cube have. It doesn’t seem as quirky, and doesn’t stand out as much in a sea of other cars. So it doesn’t appeal as much to people like my wife who want something clearly different from the mainstream. Those macho fender flares and angles might also be a factor: there’s more sport and less cute in this exterior design than in the cube’s.

Inside, color provides the Soul with much of its soul. Well, not in the lower two trim levels—their interiors are un-fun solid black. But the !’s interior (yes, ! is a trim level, as is +) is a combination of beige and black, while the sport’s (lowercase intended) is red and black. Opt for the red only if you really like red. There’s a lot of it, including nearly the entire instrument panel, and hard plastic is clearly hard plastic in this particular shade. You’ll want to wear your shades. Beige veers too far in the other direction, but houndstooth seat inserts save the !’s interior from appearing mundane.

The Soul’s most unexpected feature: speaker lights. The great-sounding 315-watt, eight-speaker audio system has lights in its two front door speakers. And, no, that’s not the end of it. These lights have four settings: off, on, mood, and music. In “mood,” you set the frequency with which they blink. In “music,” they beat to the music. An excellent way to entertain the kiddies—except that the rear door speakers are not similarly endowed. Why not?

Another problem with the speaker lights: responses to TrueDelta’s Car Reliability Survey suggest that they often failed to work as designed. Kia has a fix for this problem, though, so it shouldn’t affect recently produced cars.

Sitting in the Soul feels much like sitting in a regular compact, just with your rear a half-foot further from the ground. While a protruding center stack benefits ergonomics, it also reduces the perceived roominess of the interior. Similarly, the large, modestly raked windshield provides a familiar view from the driver’s seat, but cuts into perceived roominess more than an upright windshield would.

All of these tall boxes provide more rear legroom and headroom than in the typical small car, and the Soul is no exception. Two adults will fit in back, no problem. Cargo space with the second row up is limited, but simply fold the rear seat to more than double it. The Soul could carry even more stuff if the front passenger seat also folded, as in the PT Cruiser. Alas, it does not.

Unlike in the cube, the cargo floor is flat when the rear seat is folded. The trick: a false floor behind the rear seat. Useful storage compartments occupy the space between this false floor and the floor over the spare. Up front, storage areas include a huge bi-level glove compartment and a storage box atop the IP. So there’s plenty of space for four people or stuff, if not four people AND their stuff.

The Soul looks like fun, and it has those nifty speaker lights. But it is fun to drive? A 2.0-liter four good for 142 horsepower motivates 2,800 pounds, not a bad ratio. Problem is, the automatic transmission has only four speeds, and upshifts much more readily than it downshifts. So, at least with this transmission, the Soul feels much more sluggish than the numbers suggest it should. An additional ratio or two would also permit more relaxed and economical highway driving.

The Soul sport has a sport-tuned suspension. The most obvious difference between it and the !: the sport’s heavier steering feels less natural and makes the vehicle feel less agile. With either suspension, body roll is fairly well controlled for a 63-inch-tall vehicle and there are none of the fore-aft bibbly-bobblies found in some tall boxes. The Soul generally feels tighter and firmer than key competitors do. But for truly fun handling you’ll want something with a lower center of gravity.

The Soul’s handling advantage vis-à-vis direct competitors comes at the evident expense of ride quality. On subpar pavement the busy ride borders on punishing, for the ears even more than the seat of the pants. While the base Soul has 15-inch steelies, and the + has 16-inch alloys, both the ! and the sport are shod with 18s. The Soul’s bold fender flares certainly pair best with the large wheels, but the attendant low-profile tires thump loudly across every bump and divot. This sort of ride might be worth paying for sports car handling. But many sports cars these days ride much better, and the Soul certainly doesn’t handle like a sports car.

In the final assessment, the Kia Soul is an attractively styled, functional box with some rough edges. Perhaps Kia will add some needed refinement in coming years. The powertrain from the Forte SX and more polished suspension tuning would be a good start. Even as-is, the Soul will appeal to those who prefer sporty to cute and quirky. But car buyers seeking cute and quirky in conjunction with a more relaxed driving experience (e.g. my wife) will be better off elsewhere.

[Michael Karesh operates TrueDelta, a source of pricing and reliability data]

First impressions last. Except when they don’t. A few years back, I didn’t think the new-generation Accord was all that special. The enlarged Honda mid-sizer did the monkey-making thing; ascending the sales charts to become America’s top-selling mid-size family sedan. My first impression of Kia’s all-new Forte: it’s a hit. The Kia Forte’s a cheap (as in inexpensive), safe, somewhat stylish, fuel-efficient sedan that transports up to four adults in perfect comfort, without driving like a penalty box. In fact, this car is good enough that it could be a turnaround product for Kia, which has struggled to establish its place on the American automotive scene. But will it? What am I, psychic?

Design may not be the Forte’s forte, but it’s got the whole non-objectionability thing nailed nailed. Kia’s California design studio crafted a car where cleanliness cozies-up to divinity. The Forte’s tall greenhouse provides plenty of glass; a welcome change from the current trend for rising beltlines (and plunging sight lines). The Forte’s front fenders have flair, albeit with a clear Mazda influence. But the Kia’s overall shape could have been penned by a European Ford stylist; it reminds me strongly of the Ford Mondeo and VW Jetta.

The Forte’s cabin is as simple and inviting as the Fairmont hotel’s restrooms. My tester came in a mix of grey hues. As is the way of such things, none of the materials or shapes looked cheap or flimsy, although the price point demands the former and time will tell on the latter. Still, someone’s sweated the details. The Forte’s steering wheel offers an attractive symmetry, the right grippable thickness, and a soft, leather-like polymer covering that’s easy on the  palms. There’s ample leg room for all four passengers, and a large trunk.

The Forte tries to be the Hannah Montana of ergonomics; combining knobs and buttons to get the best of both worlds. In this it succeeds, in both the good (popular) and bad (as satisfying as bubble gum) sense. The learning curve is as steep as a bunny slope; major gauges are large and easy to read at both day and night. Taste-wise, well, an airplane model plastic silver bezel surrounds the center stack of the instrument panel. Make of that what you will.

On the road, the Kia Forte moves with more enthusiasm than you’d expect from a 156-horse, 2.0 liter four-cylinder engine. While the Forte’s target market probably doesn’t even own a stopwatch, I estimate the quad cog autobox-equipped sedan’s zero to sixty mph times live somewhere in the mid-eight second range. (A five-speed manual is available. The SX has an optional five-speed automatic). Bottom line: the Forte EX’s powertrain is more than sufficiently spirited for suburban driving and quite capable of drama-free passing maneuvers on two-lane highways.

Thanks to a well-sorted suspension and modestly aggressive 16-inch rubber, the Kia’s handling is poised and . . . poised. More importantly, the four-wheel disc brakes come complete with electronic brake-force distribution. Nanny rides shotgun. Alas, you can’t switch of the electronic stability control system in the Forte EX. Did I say alas? [A lass joke deleted.] Yes, I did. When flung through a series of very tight esses (flung I tell you!), my test Forte remained flat and composed. That said, even before turning a wheel, Jack Baruth would tell you that front-wheel-drive understeer is the name of this game.

Unfortunately, the Forte EX’s engine goes all Suicidal Tendency (i.e., thrashy) at anything above 4000 rpm. It’s not enough to be irritating, unless you’re irritated by such things. As Kia Forte buyers are more likely to dine on budae jjigae as push the four banger to its upper reaches of its rev range, it’s no biggie. Still, it’s too bad that Kia doesn’t fit the five-speed automatic on the EX; it would make a huge difference in the NVH department.

The Forte’s suspension tuning needs some, perhaps any, refinement. On frost heaves and worn concrete pavement joints, the Forte feels loose, hard riding and crashy, even at moderate speeds. Again, it’s not quite enough to enervate budget shoppers, but urban drivers might be happier in something, anything, a little more plush riding.

Value, though. Value. The Forte features a lengthy list of standard equipment, including Bluetooth, the aforementioned electronic stability and brake-force distribution, anti-lock brakes and a tire monitoring system. With a $19,000-and-change bottom line on my Forte EX, the Monroney could be the best looking thing about the whole car.

The Forte is a three-base hit for Kia. With more powertrain and suspension tuning refinement, the Forte could go yard against some of the toughest rivals in the automotive league. Provided my imprimatur is not the kiss of death, the Forte will go a long way to bolstering the budge brand.

Marketing to a particular demographic is a tricky business—just ask Honda or Toyota. Honda introduced the Element in 2003. Toyota brought us the Scion xB in 2004. Both machines were designed as funky vehicles to fit the twenty-something lifestyle. Needless to say, their room and versatility immediately found favor with the quintagenarian crowd. Now Kia’s taking a shot with the Soul. Our own Eddie Niedermeyer, squarely in the demographic Kia’s aiming for, liked it. But then there are us pesky demographic-bustin’ Boomers. Will we see more Souls parked at the old farts’ home than on college campuses?

Kia’s California design team obviously placed the xB in their sights when they designed the Soul. Fortunately, they managed to give it flair of its own, instead of simply copying Toyota. The Soul’s not as boxy as the original xB nor as bloated as the second gen. From its stubby hood to the “Li’l Coffin”-ish D-pillar, the styling works.

Kia offers the Soul in four trim levels. The base model starts at just over $13K, fitted with a 1.6L 122 hp engine. Upgrade to the Soul+ (Plus) and you get 400 more cc’s and 20 more horses. Going on to the Soul! (Exclaim) nets more toys: 18″ alloys, Bluetooth, sunroof and upgraded audio. Moving all the way to the Soul Sport (what . . . no punctuation?) adds a “sport-tuned suspension” and “unique front and rear fascias.” By now you’re pushing $18K, but that’s about as far as you can ride on the Soul train. That is, unless you spend too much time talking to the finance guy with the fat accessory catalog and pictures of his starving children.

What color was our Soul Sport tester’s paint? The Shadow knows. (For those who learned colors in kindergarten instead of marketing school, that’s black.) Depending on the model chosen you can also buy your Soul in Alien (pea soup green), Molten (red), Java (dark brown), Dune (beige), Titanium (brownish gray), Clear White or Bright Silver. The interior color is keyed to the model chosen, not the exterior color.

In the case of the Sport, you get a red instrument panel with black trim, and black seats and door panels with red trim. It looks a lot better in person than in the photos, and it’s a nice break from the sepulchral theme prevalent in other econobox interiors. After all, we Boomers will be spending a lot of time inside a dark box soon enough; no need in rushing the inevitable.

The Soul’s interior has enough space for four six-footers to sit comfortably if somewhat upright. However, if they’re going on a road trip, someone better have splurged for the roof rack from that accessory catalog. There’s adequate space behind the rear seats for normal errands; anything more will require folding the rear seats. Once that’s done, there’s ample cargo capacity for a couple of large dogs, a Costco run, or two or three walkers. There’s also a deep, subdivided well under the rear floor where you can stash the Depends, Metamucil or other such necessities.

Driving the Soul is bound to stir memories in those who drove an original VW Beetle in college. The seats sit upright and are fairly firm. The steering is light and the shifter has the same vague rubbery feel as the original Beetle’s. It’s kind of awkward, just like the first time you drove a Beetle, but you soon get used to the feel, clunking it in and out of gear without a second thought.

Also like the Beetle: you can drive the Soul flat-out and never break the law. It has more than adequate power for dealing with traffic. Its short wheelbase and tight turning radius let you pull off parking lot maneuvers you’d never attempt in the Crown Vic or LeSabre. If you really want to push it, the Kia Soul will make the run from zero to 60 in just under 9 seconds. Just be prepared for a Beetle-ish cacophony, this time coming from the front end instead of the rear.

One area that’s definitely un-Beetle-like: the braking. Hit the Soul’s center pedal hard enough and Kia’s four-wheel disks whoa you down from 60 in 119 feet. Safe! As the young ’uns like to say. I think.

Cruising at 70 (miles per hour, not years old) feels fairly relaxed. As you’d expect from the blocky shape, there’s a lot of wind noise. Never mind. Simply crank up Steppenwolf on the eight-speaker stereo and let the throbbing red front speakers drown out the wind with “Magic Carpet Ride.” Fantasy will set you free.

The speakers are gimmicks, and most Boomers will end up turning them off. However, everything else hits the mark. During my week with the Soul, I saw two other examples, both piloted by middle-aged white guys. Kia, I think you’ve found your demographic.

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

]]> http://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/2009/04/review-2010-kia-soul-sport-take-two/feed/ 43 http://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/2009/03/review-2010-kial-soul-sport/ http://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/2009/03/review-2010-kial-soul-sport/#comments Thu, 05 Mar 2009 20:08:11 +0000 Edward Niedermeyer http://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/?p=272912

Sitting between two highly conventional Rios on the Kia lot, the Soul Sport looks like a visitor from another planet. The Kia’s European styling not only refutes the bland mediocrity of its fellow Kias, but also challenges the toaster-oven aesthetics of its boxy competitors. At the same time, it offers a more unique approach than Honda’s low-slung Fit hatchback. That said, the Soul is more the product of a careful compromise between its competitors rather than a genuine automotive oddity. So what happens when you pick the least-compromising trim level, the Soul Sport with manual transmission? You develop a new level of appreciation for the art of compromise.

Inside, the Soul’s split-the-difference positioning really shines. Interior space won’t draw astonished comment (à la the first generation Scion xB), but the Soul’s interior creates a distinctly spacious feel. Up front it’s business as usual: plenty of room and great forward vision afforded by a commanding seating position. From the driver’s seat, you feel like you are part of traffic rather than a minor nuisance to “real cars.”

The Kia Soul’s packaging shines in the second row. Head, knee, leg and waist room abound in the Soul’s slightly elevated rear passenger area, even if you’re over six feet or 200 lbs.

Unfortunately, the Soul’s extra width does little to improve a fairly compromised rear cargo area. Pert packaging means that the Soul falls a few feet short of the Fit’s seat-up 20.9 cubic feet of cargo area. An underfloor storage compartment helps keep smaller cargo organized and out of sight (which is handy in a hatch). But if you plan on taking a road trip for five and their luggage, you’re going to need a roof box.

Interior quality is good (i.e great for a Kia), with restrained style and eminent function. The Soul’s far from the typical monochromatic penalty box, but styling trumps materials. Paradoxically, in base-model black, the Soul looks clean and classy for the price point. In contrast, the Sport model’s mandatory red-and-black scheme demands… recognition. 

If you’re excited about the Soul’s red-glowing speakers which pulse to the beat of your tunes, chances are you’ll love the Sport’s loud interior scheme. Otherwise, you’ll probably be a bit embarrassed about it all. If you want the Sport’s “performance suspension” you’ll have to live with the attention-seeking aesthetics, whether you like it or not.

Which begs the question: how much fun is the sportiest Soul to drive?

Kia’s 2.0-liter four-banger is standard on all Souls save for the base model, which makes do with a 1.6-liter mill. There’s little to differentiate the Sport’s performance from the other Soul trim levels. With 142 hp at 6,000 rpm and 137 pound-feet of torque at 4,600 rpm, the larger of the two mills has no problem bringing the Kia’s 2,800 pounds to speed. If you’re expecting some eponymous soul from the engine room, don’t.

While the Soul’s fat torque band makes for lazy, grunty fun around town and in the passing lane, there’s nothing makes you want keep the thing at a boil. Which is fine, since the smooth-but-vague shifter and novocained clutch pedal are hardly a call to arms.

The Soul’s handling is extremely competent in the real world, but lacks the verve that the model’s moniker implies. At least in comparison to the Fit and its low-slung ilk. Tossing the Kia into a corner, you can’t ignore the un-car-like dimensions of the thing. Thankfully, thanks to extra track width and the Sport’s sharper suspension, the expected body roll never shows up. Understeer is a constantly lurking presence, but sharp, feelsome disc brakes keep things manageable between applications of grunt.

Tragically, both the Soul’s handling and the ride are compromised by Kia’s decision to shod the Soul Sport with 18 inch wheels. What appears to be an otherwise stable, quiet vehicle at cruising speed is hamstrung by the shudders and road noise; it’s the inevtiable price of bling-rim fashion.

Ultimately, the Soul’s appeal is born of compromise not passion. It’s big and substantial for a small car, but lithe and efficient for an MPV or crossover (or even a second-gen xB). It doesn’t perform the same handling and cargo miracles as the Fit, but it has more individuality and power. More importantly for compact-wary Americans though, the Kia Soul has a far more substantial presence in traffic.

Because of its essentially compromising nature, the Sport is not the Soul to choose. Firmer suspension and anti-roll bars are the headline attraction. Oversized wheels make the ride harsher and raise the MSRP, without offering the, well, soul of a performance car. Plus you have to put up with the extroverted interior.

Embracing compromise doesn’t necessarily come naturally to the Soul’s 18-30 year-old male demographic, but then compromises are rarely this desirable.

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The Elantra’s brochure is surprisingly substantial, printed on premium paper stock and bound with an actual binding. The Spectra’s brochure is just standard gloss paper with two staples. The Elantra brochure is full of “black pearl,” “captiva” white, and “quicksilver” Elantras posing in front of fountains and driving through jewel-like cityscapes. The Spectra brochure has “spark” blue and “spicy” red cars racing along winding roads between keggers and climbing walls. Clearly, the Elantra is aimed at the sort of people that pretend to have stock options, while the Spectra is aimed at the sort of people that pretend to have social lives. But does the reality match the marketing dream?

The Spectra pulls off its hipster looks to a much greater degree than the Elantra pulls off the Lexus thing. Neither car takes any sort of chances; the Spectra manages to be almost handsome in that simple and clean sort of way that makes a Cobalt coupe acceptable. The Elantra, sadly, misses the point. Sure, it has smooth curves and little accents and complex head lights and all that jazz. But while the cars the Elantra attempts to roughly emulate look sleek and feminine, the Elantra itself comes across as heavy and dumpy. The Elantra is the ill-fitting designer knockoff hanging in Hyundai’s closet next to the Spectra’s denim jeans.

The socially-awkward manager-in-training and the wannabe skater chick show their sisterhood in their interiors. The Spectra carries it’s sort of respectable simplicity inside the cabin, feeling exactly like a Cobalt and looking only slightly nicer. The switchgear feels… functional, the controls are intelligently laid out, the steering wheel is (thankfully) bereft of buttons, and the plastics don’t get too depressing until you start hunting them out.

The Elantra’s interior, however, can’t cash the check the exterior attempts to write. Leather may be available, the automatic gearstick may zig-zag through the gates to get to each selection, and the center console may have an interesting two-tiered shape to it. But the seats and controls underneath are Spectratastic. Which is to say craptastic. The Elantra’s interior is only close enough to “premium” to make its similarities to the Spectra jump out at you all the more.

Engine-wise, the Elantra and Spectra are twins under the skin. The same two-litre four cylinder engine motoivate both transportation devices, pumping out 138hp at 6000 rpm, and 136 lb.-ft. of torque at 4500 rpm. Fortunately, the corporate four-banger is as tasty as bi bim bop. The powerplant revs freely, produces entirely adequate thrust, and makes a decent noise higher up in the rev range. There’s a four-speed automatic available, but the gear ratios just don’t mesh with the engine characteristics. Keep the standard five-speed manual, though, and you’ll be humming Johnny and the Sprites in no time.

I repeat: economy cars need three pedals. The five-speed transmission Hyundai supplies with this engine is a perfect fit with the mission of the car, allowing you to exploit every bit of the engine’s performance when you’re feeling talented and adventurous while still managing acceptable gas mileage when you aren’t. As you’ve probably guessed by now, its better in the Spectra; the SX trim level includes a “sport-tuned” suspension not available on the Elantra, whose handling characteristic seem specifically designed to discourage such good-natured hoonery. Finding an Elantra with the five-speed on the lot is difficult, which is a shame since the four-speed automatic trades all the relative fun of the five-speed in exchange for a marginal increase in fuel economy.

The standard suspension in both the Elantra and the Spectra feels identical from the driver’s seat, which is to say a little too soft for the Spectra to feel sprightly, yet not quite plush enough for the Elantra to keep up the premium-car pretenses. The levels of grip are acceptable for the mission of either car, especially considering that prodigious body lean will spoil the handling long before the eventual understeer kicks in. Hyundai’s quality may be on the fast track to the top, but judging from their respective driving dynamics, the Elantra and the Spectra are still playing the discount rental game.

So, here’s some truth about cars for you: the Hyundai Elantra is an uglier Kia Spectra that costs a grand more in exchange for four-wheel ABS, power windows and locks, and an alarm. Neither car handles, accelerates, brakes, appears or feels superior than anything else in the compact car category. Deciding between the two is roughly akin to cross-shopping oatmeal or wallpaper paste brands. One may be slightly more expensive and have a different package design, but the actual product inside is more or less identical.

If I had to recommend either of these cars to someone, I would direct them towards the Spectra. It’s slightly cheaper and slightly better looking than the Elantra, and those are the only two hairs worth splitting. If they prefer the lumpen styling and the blippy key fob that comes with the Elantra, it’s only a thousand greenbacks more. This, of course, assumes the Elantra and the Spectra are the two vehicles under consideration.

Were the theoretical undecided economy car buyer operating with a wider lens, I would recommend just about anything else above either of these vehicles. The Cobalt is a better drive, gets significantly better mileage (in XFE trim), and GM’s selling it at bargain-bin prices (for ominous reasons, but there you go). The Honda Civic and Toyota Corolla both get superior mileage to the Elantra and Spectra while looking considerably better and (in the case of the Civic) sporting an interior heads and shoulders above the Koreans. The Mazda 3 only loses out to the Elantra and Spectra on price, and anyone that sits in a 3 will happily pay the premium it demands. Need I continue?

Saying all that, there are no truly terrible compact cars available in the United States market any more. However, there is still a barrel, and there are still cars to be found at the bottom. And here they are.

Ratings:

Hyundai Elantra  – Price as Tested $14,545 – **

Kia Spectra – Price as tested $13,385 **

“Kia: the Power to Surprise.” As far as the exterior’s concerned, the Korean automaker better hope that the best surprise is no surprise. OK, it’s not ugly. Or odd. That’s a fairly low bar, to be sure, but one that not every SUV manages to clear (need I mention any Hondas?). The flip side: the Borrego’s thoroughly conventional exterior styling is thoroughly forgettable, in a vanilla never goes into fashion kinda way. In fact, the Borrego’s sheetmetal is hardly more current– or desirable– than a circa-2002 domestic.

Leaving the Tribeca-esque grill aside, the Borrego’s interior is similarly “retro;” it could have been fashioned by a Japanese design studio five years ago, during the period before Honda and Toyota decided to get “creative.” Gauge-wise, hockey sticks for the tach and fuel level flank a circular speedo. Otherwise, it’s been there, done that; Ford’s got twenty of them on the lot. One high point: the armrests on the Borrego’s doors are comfortably padded.

Kia pitches the Borrego as a luxury SUV. But unlike Kia’s Sorento, no one will perceive a bargain basement Lexus vibe. Well, maybe one detail: the Borrego’s second row armrest is a dead ringer for the RX 350′s– except the upholstery doesn’t fit the complex shape precisely. Available toys (power tilt-and-telescopic steering wheel, heated second row) better support the model’s intended positioning than the interior ambiance.

The two-row Sorento is a [nearly] midsize conventional SUV. So Kia might have made the three-row Borrego a [nearly] full-size SUV– at a time when the U.S. market hungers for full-size SUVs like a film star’s child pines for anonymity. Kia dodged that bullet. Dimensionally, the Borrego is close to Ford’s Explorer. Technically average adults will find sufficient legroom in all three rows. But, as in the Ford, you’ll find the second row a bit low to the floor and the difficult-to-access third row pretty much on the floor.

Like Ford, Kia pairs an independent rear suspension (IRS) with body-on-frame construction. IRS alone does not a corner carver make; the Borrego isn’t going to force anyone to reconsider their perception of conventional SUV dynamics. The steering is lifeless, while the rear end isn’t, never quite settling down except on glass-smooth pavement. In one of the auto world’s greatest unsolved mysteries, live-axle dinosaurs from GM and Chrysler ride more smoothly and quietly than their IRS’d competitors, including this one.

Kia sells the Borrego with either a 3.8-liter V6 or a 4.6-liter V8. The eight’s good for 337 horsepower. You can’t buy more shove in this segment without ponying-up for an SS or Hemi badge. Only the V8 Borrego hasn’t yet arrived at Kia dealers.

No matter: the V6 is no slouch, kicking out a second-to-GM 278 horsepower. The six moves the Borrego more than adequately. If anything, the V6′s lack of a sixth transmission ratio is a more serious omission than the Borrego’s “missing” fourth pair of cylinders. The automatic’s five ratios are widely spaced; drivers face a choice between too little forward thrust and an unseemly amount of engine roar. For acceleration that places less strain on the eardrums— or for heavy towing— the three-grand-extra V8 is the better way to go.

While American SUV buyers avoid V8s like the proverbial plague these days, the Borrego holds a new-to-the-brand innoculation: best-in-class fuel economy. Whereas the EPA rates a four wheel-drive Ford Explorer at 13/19 (with either the V6 or the V8), and most other midsize SUVs guzzle even more, the Borrego’s V6 manages 16/21, while the V8 clocks-in at 15/20.

Problem is, a thoroughly, utterly conventional midsize SUV with best-in-class fuel economy in today’s market is like a beauty contest winner in a leper colony. Twenty-one on the highway only looks good compared to numbers in the high teens. GM’s large crossovers with roomier, more versatile interiors and superior handling manage 23. Meanwhile, those with a boat to tow tend to prefer the longer wheelbase of a full-size SUV.

It’s hard to know what Kia was thinking when it decided to carve out a slice of a shrinking not to say anorexic vehicle genre. Place holder? Small bet on the formerly high-profit American SUV market’s resurrection? Or just bad timing, given the average model’s four-year development cycle.

One thing’s for sure: even at $27k, the powerful Kia Borrego is heading nowhere fast. The problem isn’t that the Borrego isn’t a decent vehicle. Just that it’s a safe, conventional play in a dying segment.

The Mazda5 Grand Touring and the Rondo EX adhere to the original formula. Both are built on passenger car platforms and share drivetrains with economy cars. Both are within a couple of inches of the size of the original Chrysler minivan. Both have three rows of seats; like the original Caravoyagers, the third row is optional on the Rondo. And like those early minvans, you can have a flat cargo floor if you desire. But that’s where the similarities between them end.

Mazda and Kia took decidedly divergent design directions. The Mazda5 looks like the love child of a Mazda3 and the space shuttle. The family DNA shows in the grille that precedes a steeply sloping hood and windshield. While the more traditionally minivannish of the two, it shows some style with a beltline that swoops upward from the obligatory swept-back headlights, past the dual sliding doors and toward the rear– where you’re greeted by two huge silver… things… mounted next to the rear window. These pods contain the LED taillights and backup lights. They’re easy to see, but look oh-so-last-decade.

The Rondo eschews zoominess for cute. With its huge headlights, trapezoidal grill opening and rounded corners, it looks like one of the talking cars in the Chevron commercials. The Rondo departs from the standard minivan recipe with parking lot-unfriendly hinged doors instead of sliders. The softly rounded shape continues to the rear where it’s abruptly terminated with a sharp crease below the rear window.

At first blush, both vehicles look similar inside, down to the shift levers sprouting at a 45-degree angle from the console. However, differences abound. The Mazda5 is rated at six passengers, offering front buckets, center captain’s chairs and a two-person bench in the wayback. The Rondo claims to seat seven, with a split bench in the middle and an optional two-seater in the rear. Unfortunately, the compact dimensions of both become glaringly apparent when you get to the rearmost seats. There’s only enough room for preteens (or adults you hate) in the back of either minivan. If you have to buckle the kids into car seats or booster seats, hip room’s too tight to mention. In an attempt to give access to the torture chamber, the door openings are wide and the center seats slide forward. But you’ll still have a long stretch to get everyone settled back there.

The second row is much better. The Rondo provides ample legroom, even with the front seats pushed all the way back. But all the Rondo’s second row does is recline, move fore and aft and fold flat. The Mazda’s does that and more. Flip-up the cushion on the left side and there’s a storage bin large enough to stash an extra supply of diapers for long trips. Flip up the cushion on the right and there are cup holders and tray you can flop over into the space between the seats. Lift the bottom of that tray and there’s a net beneath to hold small toys and other flotsam that seems to be de rigueur for traveling with young ‘uns nowadays. In contrast, the Rondo’s rear cup holders slide out of the bottom of the console at floor level where they would be totally useless for little ones who are strapped in high above them.

Both cars offer plenty of space up front. But the Mazda5 has a very annoying bulge at the side of the console where the driver’s leg should be. It partially blocks the accelerator, making you hold your foot at a strange angle. Then, when you rest your leg against the console, it’s against hard plastic with a 90-degree edge on it. If you’re above average size, you’ll notice they made it feel so spacious by downsizing everything in the interior. The steering wheel is the size of a dinner plate and every time I wedged my 6’3” carcass behind it I felt like I was in a parent-teacher conference sitting in a third-grader’s chair. The mail-slot sized sunroof opening only added to the sensation. The second-row seats have very low backs-– so low in fact that when the headrests were all the way down they didn’t even come to the top of my shoulders. You adapt to the seven-eights scale furniture eventually, but it’s still disconcerting.

Neither the Rondo or the Madza5 have an abundance of cargo room with the third seat up. The Mazda’s trunk has enough room to hold a small suitcase or a few soccer balls. The Kia offers only 6.5 cubic feet. Fold down the third row in either, though, and there’s plenty of room for the beer run. The Rondo has 35 cubic feet behind the second seat and the Mazda5 holds 44 cubic feet.

The Mazda5 Grand Touring and Rondo EX are both at the apex of their respective model’s food chain. The Mazda blows the Kia out of the water equipment-wise. Both come with the usual power stuff, remote locking, six-speaker sound systems, and steering-wheel mounted radio and cruise controls. However, the Grand Touring also includes leather seats, electroluminescent gauges, automatic headlights, rain-sensing wipers, the aforementioned sunroof, heated seats, Bluetooth and it an optional nav system. The leather, sunroof and heated seats are optional on the Rondo EX and you have to pay extra for third row seating. The remaining electronic toys aren’t available at any price.

In return, the Rondo offers two things that aren’t available on the Mazda5. The first is electronic stability control, standard on the Kia. The second is a V6 engine. Mazda’s excellent 2.3-liter four-pot pumps out 153hp; it isn’t enough to provide the zoom-zoom you expect, especially if there are three or four people on board. It takes almost 10 seconds to stroll from 0 to 60 mph. You find yourself wishing they built a MazdaSpeed5.

The Rondo’s standard 2.4-liter four cranks out 162hp, and the smooth 2.7-liter V6 ups the ante to 182hp. With the larger engine, the Rondo does the 0 to 60 shuffle in just under nine seconds. Around town it’s more than sufficient. Push the mill into the higher RPM ranges to wring-out more speed and methinks it doth protest too much. With both of these vanlets, you should plan your passing maneuvers in advance, especially in hilly terrain.

The Kia and Mazda both handle fairly well for nose-heavy 3500-pound boxes. The Mazda5’s steering feels more directly connected to the front wheels than the Rondo’s, but it exhibits more body roll when pushed into a corner. Both are very maneuverable in city traffic and small enough to squeeze into spaces where larger SUVs fear to tread. You wouldn’t want to enter any gymkhanas, but there is driving fun to be had. As an added bonus, the base-level Mazda5 is available with a five-speed manual transmission.

For highway cruising, the Rondo beats the Mazda5, hands-down. Its front seats are more supportive and much more comfortable. The large analog instruments are easier to read than the Mazda’s high-tech electroluminescent ones. The radio controls are much more straightforward than Mazda’s radio cum nav system, where you have to agree not to sue them just to get to the basic radio functions. The only really annoying thing about the Rondo was the wind noise around the rearview mirror on the driver’s side.

The Mazda’s shrunken front seats and strange shaped console conspire to keep anyone above average size from getting comfortable. That, added to a resonance that boomed through the interior at speeds above 40 mph, made me wish I’d taken the Rondo every time I drove it.

Pricewise, it’s advantage Kia, as you’d expect. My fully-loaded tester listed for $23,495. They’re offering $2k incentives, so you’re just above the $21k mark before you start haggling. The admittedly much-better-equipped Mazda5 stickered for $25,395 (currently there are no incentives offered).

When you’re talking about a Kia, there are a few other considerations to factor in. First is the horrible first-year depreciation. You can expect the Rondo’s value to drop by about a third of its sticker price as soon as you drive it off the lot. Then, there’s the matter of durability. Although Kias have improved quality-wise and include one of the best warranties in the business, it’s still too soon to tell how well the Rondo will hold up over the years. Everything in my tester was tight and felt solid. But that doesn’t mean it’ll hold up for five or ten years.

In spite of that, I preferred the Rondo. It was more comfortable, more fun to drive and provided more straightforward controls than the Mazda5. Still, either is preferable to the bloated monstrosities they currently market as “minivans” and would probably do 95 percent of what people driving SUVs need a vehicle to do. Maybe the real minivan’s time has come again.

[Kia and Mazda provided the cars reviewed, insurance and a tank of gas.]

There's no discounting presentation here: the Amanti sheetmetal embodies its upmarket aspirations, and bombs. Kia's range-topper faces the world with an unmitigated knockoff of a last-generation E-class' front end (sans hood ornament). From the side, the Amanti's roofline brings to mind a 1995 Chrysler LHS. Vertical taillights and a bustle-butt truck lifted from a 1999 Bentley Arnage bring up the rear. Taken as a whole, the Amanti stands out in a parking lot like a black cat in a dark room. 

The Amanti's "premium" amenities are a study in contradiction. Germanically-firm-yet-supportive bucket seats are upholstered in glove-soft leather. But the windowsills are rock-hard and about an inch wide. Adjustable pedals are optional. A telescoping steering column isn't. The instrument cluster bedazzles with electroluminescent gauges. But there's no satellite radio or MP3 input for the sound system.

The four-door offers its occupants eight air bags to help survive a crash, but you have to pay for stability and traction controls to help avoid one. The Amanti has power locks. But they can't be set to lock automatically. A dual zone automatic temp control is standard, but your sat nav system will have to come via a suction cup. 

The four-inch screen in the center of the dash promises a nav system– and delivers a trip computer, radio, temp and time with white "toothpick" numbers against a black background. While the door-mounted seat adjuster on the passenger's side looks like the eight-way control for the driver's side, it just moves the seat fore and aft and reclines it. In spite of the supple leather on the seats, plastic of all textures dominates.

If you pay $1.6k for the "premium package" everything's in black, save an aluminum band across the dashboard, the switch markings and the headliner. 

Space you got, and lots of it. Up front, Indiana Jones fans may affix their preferred head gear. The back seat's chair-height seating is even more impressive. Even with the front seat adjusted for my 6'3" frame, my 6'5" son sat comfortably behind me. There's plenty of room for four, or even five, more statistically representative humans; the Amanti's cavernous trunk can easily handle the luggage they'll need (provided at least two are male).

The Amanti's ride is more than good-I mean, "supple" enough to lure a [the?] octogenarian out of his Mercury Grand Marquis. The Korean sedan floats over highway bumps with the kind of ease once lauded as "an easy chair on wheels." The 3.8-liter 264hp V6 powering the pastiche is virtually silent while cruising. Depending on how much speed you're demanding, increasing your rate of progress produces a coarse growl. The indecisive transmission then tries to find a lower gear and… you're off. The powerplant's 260 lb-ft of torque finally kicks in and you move out smartly, or cheaply, whichever.  

Any attempted change in direction proves what anyone who understands automotive dynamics 101 will have deduced from the paragraph above.  Double wishbones up front and a multi-link setup out back promise more than they can deliver.  Combine them with numb, over-boosted steering and anything approximating spirited driving requires a level of skill best employed on a driving sim. 

And then there's branding…

When most people think Kia, they think cheap. The corollary: questionable build quality and dubious resale values. While nothing broke down or fell off during the week I drove the Amanti, the ignition switch was already loose enough to wiggle in its housing.

Although hardly anyone would pay the Amanti's $31,695 sticker price, an estimated first-year depreciation rate of around 50 percent should give the prospective buyer serious pause. More specifically, from January through June of this year, Kia sold 2,090 Amantis. Some 1,117 of those were sold in June. If that doesn't reek of fleet sales, I don't know what does. 

By the same token, if you'd like a comfortable, reasonably economical car that would be big enough for a family of four (or if grandpa wants to downsize from his Town Car) just wait a couple of years. By then you should be able to buy a 2008 Amanti for a third what it cost new. Of course, the same sort of depreciation applies to the "real thing"– only at a slightly slower pace. Timely gratification, cheap or luxurious. Choose one.

(Kia of North America supplied the car, insurance, and a tank of gas)

Affordability aside, nothing much. The Kia's sheetmetal serves as an instant, constant reminder that the good times are not about to roll. For starters, the front fascia appears to be a mismatch of cheap plastics and leftover pre-bankruptcy surplus (check out those diminutive fog lights on the top-of-the-line SX). The orgy of automotive penury continues with side door protectors that look like they came from the wrong side of the 1980's. The Hyundai Accent has these removed– with the mere imprint remaining. But that's like saying the Rio isn't the only sister in the family that grows a moustache.

At the back, the Rio's rear lights came straight from a Chrysler junkyard; the lower end retains the cohesiveness of overexposed cheap plastic. Overall, only the equally dire, equally South Korean Chevrolet Aveo can compare with the Rio's ultra-cheap, I mean "affordable" exterior appearance.   

The Rio's interior surprised me, even in base trim. Yes, the radio controls look and feel like rubber dog toys (don't get me started) and the carpet's thinner than my imaginary hairline. But the seats are comfortable, the ergonomics faultless, and the steering wheel feels solid in your hands. In truth, only one element of the Rio's cabin will repel frugal folks before they turn the key: a sour, noxious smell. The olfactory assault may fade over time, but it sends a subconscious signal that you have abandoned all hope of a fly ride. 

You don't drive a Kia Rio. You ride in it. Well, on the highway. Anywhere else, you fight with it. There's no handling as such, just a constant struggle against lateral forces and 14" of limited adhesion as you wrestle with the lack of power steering (available on the LX and SX models). Unless you think it's OK for a guy to dance by himself at the High School prom, piloting this machine is a particularly joyless affair. Did I mention the 110hp engine (@ 6000rpm) or understeer? Why would I?

Another non-surprise: the Rio with a manual transmission is a pain to drive, with a box that puts the "arggg" in agricultural. Needless to say, the optional four-speed autobox is geared for maximum mileage (i.e. minimal acceleration). Unfortunately (for Kia), moving up to the automatic lifts the price firmly into Versa / Yaris territory– where the Rio simply can't compete.

The good news: the base Kia rides smoothly down the highway with controlled body motions, and remains quiet, in an "Applebee's isn't as noisy as a TGIF's" way. That's a good fit for most of the general public that seeks to drive no more than 2/10's to 3/10's of a vehicle's capability– and wants an upper body workout. Oh, the suspension bottoms-out on moderate bumps at highway speeds. Sorry. 

The word "base" has new meaning here. No power steering. No ABS or rear disc brakes, poor IIHS side-impact safety rating and, just as dangerous for southerners, no air conditioning. You can't even order a chiller in the base model. You can get AC for $700 more in an entry-level, if equally unexciting, Toyota Yaris hatchback along with… power steering! Or, you can get a variety of near-new low-mileage vehicles ranging from the unloved but far more competent Chevy Cobalt, to the quite loved and still fairly unknown Suzuki SX4.
All of which means that if the Kia Rio loves good times as much as you do, you don't love good times. At all. The Rio has nothing whatsoever to offer the enthusiast and even less to offer the frugalist. OK, the warranty is long and extensive. But then most cars today will last 200k miles.

It's a shame that the most economically-vulnerable members of society will be seduced by the Rio's low sticker. If they checked eBay's completed items section they'd see that an ultra-low mileage four-year-old Rio has trouble breaking the $4k barrier. That's $2k worth of depreciation per year. On the flip side, you can buy a certified three-year-old Corolla or Civic for nearly the same price as a new Kia Rio and get lower depreciation, better fuel economy and far better overall quality. Game, set and match.

The Sorento’s wildly inoffensive design remains unchanged since 2003 (and will do until 2010). Given the temper of the times, it’s no bad thing for an Old School solid rear axle trucklet to maintain relatively diminutive proportions and ape a cute ute (albeit one that doesn’t look like a badly packed linen suit). As an off-road appliance, the Sorento doesn’t put a foot wrong, from its handsome, functional lower-body cladding to its deeply generic jewelry.

Even with the EX' $2500 Luxury Package, the Korean cabin doesn’t hold a candle to its more modern competitors. On paper, the option group looks great: leather upholstery, upgraded audio, dual zone A/C, heated front seats and alloy wheels. In practice, the skins pulled tight over Sorento’s seats must be sourced from malnourished thin-skinned North Korean cows. The audio is what it should be and no more. And the rest doesn’t pass the “Hey Martha, get a load of this” test.

Furthermore, there’s no dressing-up the Kia’s drab, downmarket dash. Panels fit together as closely as Dan Aykroyd’s Norge refrigerator repairman character’s buttocks. The retractable rear cargo cover is fabricated from the same tacky and tenuous vinyl used for old white window shades. The Sorento’s Spartan layout works by bargain basement economy car standards, but this $30k Korean has moved up a league. How you gonna keep ‘em in the showroom once they’ve been to Toyondissan, or, for that matter, Detroit?

On the plus side, the Sorento’s seating positions are excellent and the head room’s adequate for occupants up to 6’3” tall. Rear knee room and bench seat bests the comfort of the similarly-sized ’08 Jeep Liberty.

Fortunately for the Sorento, backwoods fly fishermen care little for luxury–– as long as everything works as advertised and can be cleaned without much fuss. To service the “genuine truck” market to which the Sorento (by necessity) aspires, the Kia must reliably transport lifestylers and their gear to their favorite recreation areas. Excluding worrying reports of long-term mechanical reliability, this is where the Sorento shines.

The EX gets a free-breathing 3.8-liter DOHC 24-valve aluminum block six cylinder engine that revs with all the carefree abandon of a Honda. When your foot reaches into the revolutionary penthouse, the mill cranks out 262hp and 260 ft.-lbs. of torque. The Sorento’s five-speed automatic slushbox lacks the quick wit to satisfy anyone with leaden feet.  Its virtue is its ability to delicately swap gears with nary a tremor. BUT– there’s enough twist to foil the rear wheel electronic traction control and induce massive oversteer (file under ‘Fun’).

Equally important, Kia found the middle ground (that eluded Jeep Liberty engineers) between harsh and uncontrollably soft rides. The Sorento manages a comfortable and refined ride without completely losing its composure during abrupt maneuvering.  It leans predictably in corners but recovers with little rebound.

Kia claims the little mill is sufficient to tow 5000 lbs.  While I highly doubt Sorento owners will attempt to pull trailers of that magnitude, it’s enough juice to easily motivate a full load of camping equipment, fishing tackle and humanity over highways and onto the roads less traveled.

Speaking of which, the Sorento is a REAL SUV in a relatively compact package. The Kia’s solid rear axle provides sufficient articulation for seriously uneven trails. The company claims 8.2” minimum ground clearance and rock friendly approach and departure angles (28.4 degrees / 25.8 degrees). This dog will hunt. Also archetypal: this pot bellied pig tips the scales at 4,277 lbs. and feasts on dead dino juice at the rate of 15/21 mpg.

And speaking of expensive, my 2008 Sorento EX 4×2 test rig rang-in at a healthy $28,395. Opt for 4×4, and KIA’s deeply generic SUV tops $30K. Never mind all the cute ute competition that rears their coiffed heads at that price point (CR-V, RAV-4, Escape, Equinox), but that amount of wedge can make you a Ford Explorer, which is, it must be said, a damn fine rig.

The Sorento EX is a competent driver with a zesty engine and off-road cred that’s seriously hampered by a budget car interior and over-ambitious pricing. The cheaper models– staring in the low 20's with a choice of a smaller engine and driven wheels options– make a LOT more sense. But the Sorento EX is not ready to play with the big boys.

If you ever want to knock off a bank and leave witnesses unable to identify your getaway car, drive an Optima. Alternatively, you could say the sedan’s design is appealingly subtle. The front may have a touch too much Ford Taurus to it, but the Kia’s common sense proportions and unadorned sheetmetal evokes the style-less styling of 70’s-era Bimmers. From its sparing use of chrome to its plain Jane wheels, the Optima is deeply, wildly inoffensive.

A recent review made a big deal of the Optima’s interior “soft-touch home run.” You have to weigh that praise in the context of modern mass-market carmaking; the American public expects more horsepower, speakers and airbags which each successive iteration of an existing model– for the same price. Something has to give. Generally, that something is interior materials. Bottom line: the Optima has gradually improved while others (read: Camry) have cratered. So now there’s a smaller gap (pun intended).

That said, your eyes will have no problem telling the difference between the LX and higher-priced merchandise. Yes, the pieces are low-gloss and fit well, but there are so many bits and pigments you’ll think the designers were paid by the color. Score one for the leather-lined, neon-gauged Appearance Package, which comes in any color as long as it’s black. This cockpit not only looks swanky with its perforated leather and brushed accents, it conceals all that busyness.

To its credit, Kia has positioned the Optima’s soft-touch bits from your elbows up, where you confront them the most. Everything below is as hard and cheap as a forty-five- year-old sex industry worker. The Kia’s steering wheel tilts and telescopes, but the mechanism’s crudity will deter you from recreational telescoping. And while overall leg and headroom room is class-compliant and more than sufficient for the average human form, front-seat thigh support is, er, sub-optimal.

The Optima’s 2.4-liter four cylinder engine is the fruit of a joint venture between Mitsubishi, Chrysler and Hyundai.  The quality of the weed involved couldn’t have been that high. Although the 162hp mill's fairly punchy off the line and tolerably responsive at highway speeds, it’s dog-dead in rolling acceleration around 40mph. The Optima ambles from rest to 60mph in around 10 seconds. I didn’t try the Sportmatic® slap-shifter, but I doubt it would help; the electronic five-speed lacked proper ratios.

The step-up to the 185hp 2.7-liter V6 is a questionable improvement on paper. A $2k premium buys you a one second improvement to 60 with a debilitating effect on gas mileage. But it’s a no-brainer for those who have more than the environment or their wallet in mind, offering superior midrange punch and much more refined noises. One word of warning, though: like all modern Hyundai/Kia V6’s, its solid lifters must be adjusted near the 90k mile mark. The work isn’t covered under that famous warranty and carries a four-figure sting.

Once underway, the Optima’s pillowy standard suspension is a weaker sedative than a fistful of barbiturates washed down with Southern Comfort, but stronger than two Ambien. If you don’t like to drive and you buy a four-pot Camry instead of an Optima, you either live near a Toyota dealer or you simply don’t care about money. The Kia’s ride quality is at least as good– or as bad– as the Toyota’s.

If you’re not insensitive to the joys of driving, the Optima’s Appearance Package (AP) is a must. While the spec sheet doesn’t say the AP’s suspension is firmer, the fatter Michelin shoes sure make it feel like it is. Perched high atop the Optima’s springs (the price of a civilized ride), you’re still subject to enough body movement to stay your right foot. But roll angles and cornering become perfectly respectable for a family sedan; something to be endured rather than avoided.

Add in stability control, leather, a killer stereo– the full zoot– and we’re talking around $20k. Measured against the ’07 Accord EX V6, the Optima LX comes up short in acceleration, mileage and toys. But measured against comparably priced family iron, it’s just as comfortable (unless you’re long-legged) and vastly more satisfying to look at and sit in. The top Optima will never win any (real) awards, but if there was a Subtly Nice Sedan For Not Much Money, Now or Down the Road trophy, the Optima would be a shoo-in.

It sure ain't style. The Sedona has all the flair and pizzazz of a milk crate. All the minivan cues have reported for duty: a big, bulbous rear; a ridiculously raked front and sliding rear doors that leave monstrous, gaping apertures for child seat and stroller management. While these characteristics are pistonhead poison, not being revolting is the only aesthetic criterion for success in this utilitarian segment. Check.

The Sedona's interior combines economy-class design with business-class space. Fortunately, you don't have to deal with those piss-ant overhead air spigots; the Sedona features three climate zones, each with its own control panel and roof-mounted vents. The seven-seater has enough cupholders for a Vitamin drink demonstration squad. Sadly, only the Sedona's highest trim level offers a whine-suppression system (rear DVD).

To make sure the captain is sitting pretty, the Sedona's helm spot offers eight-way power adjustable seats. All four front-most seats (captain chairs) provide excellent back and thigh support– although the material did feel as rough as a three-day beard. The rear bench seats three non-shorts-wearing rug rats in comfort or three adults in purgatory.

The Sedona's two middle seats can be exorcised by anyone strong enough to pitch the family tent (less coordination required). At the pull of a strap, the rear seat folds into the floor Honda-style, leaving ample room for Costco carting.

While the Sedona does its best to ape the features that make the transplants' minivans a sales success, it knows wherein its lunch lies: safety and reliability. We're talking six airbags, a back-up sensor (that beeps maniacally), a five-star NHTSA crash rating all ‘round and a 10-year, 100,000-mile warranty. Perfect.

The 3.8-liter V6 sheltering under the Sedona's hood pumps out 250hp through a very competent five-speed auto. The Sedona delivers its power evenly and predictably all across its rpm range, making it deceptively fast off the line. Discovering such an enthusiastic power train in such a soul-sapping vehicle is like discovering that the plain girl in your college geology class…

Of course, it's not as silky smooth as the Odyssey (the Sedona). Nor is it as unrelentingly uneventful as the Toyota Sienna. Anyway, in the Sedona's litany of family-focused chatter, the performance provides a much needed shout out to NASCAR Dad, who's otherwise in very real danger of losing his will to live. 

If you expect this barge to handle like a similarly-priced [current gen] Town & Country, you're wrong. The power-assisted rack and pinion steering may be light enough for arthritis sufferers, but the Sedona's independent front suspension and multi-link rear feel tight and work right. In fact, the Sedona hits the road with some unexpected agility; you can actually slalom the van– say, around an errant shopping cart– without generating gastric bypass qualifying body roll.

Yes, anyone stupid enough to drive the Sedona quickly around a corner will encounter enough understeer to make an Impala SS seem like a sports car. But at family-friendly speeds, the Sedona brings the fight. You know; for a parking space.

Even better, the Sedona will do all this in peace and quiet. Engine and road noise are kept at a minimum. The Sedona coasts over most typical road imperfections with neither complaint nor disruption in its course– all the better to watch Disney movies in ambient, relaxed tranquility (and then explain to the kids why Bambi's mom died).

After driving the Sedona, it's apparent that Kia has decided to concede the wretched morsels at the bottom of the barrel to Dodge and go for the Japanese lions' share of the budget-minded Applebee's crowd.

Let's be frank with each other. DOA Mercedes R-Class notwithstanding, the minivan segment has no room for conspicuous consumption. At best, no one will care that your new Toyota Sienna costs more than a used Boxster. At worst, pistonheads will loathe you for dropping Boxster money on a set of wheels that slowly kills you on the inside.

If you're one of the enthusiast types who's resigned yourself to the tragic fate of minivan ownership, the Kia Sedona is a fantastic hearse. If you're a sensible sort who couldn't give a damn about driving dynamics or middle row seats that swivel to face the rear, the Kia Sedona pushes all the right buttons at the right price. It's a done deal.

Lest we forget, Kia fancies itself the "sporty" arm of the unflatteringly acronymed Hyundai Automotive Group; the econo-minded Spectra is the company's best-selling model. Hang on. Might we expect a sort of value-leader Mazda 3 (Spectra pricing starts at $12,985), combining sporty reflexes, features galore and a low, low sticker? At the risk of giving the game away: no, we mightn't. What, then, is the Spectra?

Let's start with this: it ain't a looker. The Spectra offers disinterested onlookers styling cues cribbed [weakly] from Honda and Toyota. In fact, the Spectra's sheet-metal is so deeply, profoundly generic it makes Liz Lang for Target seem like haute couture. The Spectra's strongest feature is its oddly-shaped profile. Call it a "character line"– provided the character in question is Quasimodo. Tight panel gaps and liberal daubs of chrome keep the Spectra from shouting "cheap," but the car's proportions are fundamentally awkward.

Those proportions feel better from inside, where the Spectra's tall roof and big windows create a bright, airy ambiance. Japanese cars used to have interiors like this: simple, mood-enhancing, with low cowls and easy sight-lines. While they've gotten somber and techy, Kia serves up the old cheery, pretense-free flavor.

Good stuff, but isn't Kia's trying to send a sporting message? The Spectra's cabin garbles the company line. The interior's soothing gray plastics and velvety-soft seat fabric would flatter an entry-level Buick. The steering-wheel rim is wimpy thin, and there's no lateral support in the driver's seat. But hey, check the velour-lined coin tray!

The Spectra shares its major mechanicals with the previous-generation Hyundai Elantra- a vehicle that, at last count, hadn't taken home many Solo II trophies. If you're thinking that the Kia Spectra is more of a Sam's Club Corolla than a marked-down Mazda 3, you're right. At least that's how it drives.

The sporty Spectra holsters a 2.0-liter, 138-horsepower four cylinder engine. Although this hand-me-down Hyundai mill is relatively mannerly and generates a decent whack of torque right off idle, it groans asthmatically when asked to climb a steep incline. Wanna try running it up to redline? Fine; see you next week. As with most Korean metal, fuel economy trails the class average. Drive the five-speed Spectra without deploying the advertised sporting intent and she'll suck down the gas at a rate of 25/33 mpg.

On the scale of stick-shift sensuality from one to ten, the Spectra lacks numeracy skills. The five-speed's gear-lever moves with light, wafty motions, but there's a clunky remoteness to its gear selections. Worse, the Spectra's prow rises and falls buoyantly with each dip into the long-throw clutch. Pistonheads who drive a manual for mechanical companionship, rather than fuel savings, will be left wanting.

After buzzing and clunking our way through the straights, what reward awaits in the twisties? A romp in a bouncy castle! Although the Spectra's ride is really quite comfy, Kia achieved this isolation the old-fashioned way: with Jell-O springs and Stay-Puft damping. As a result, sinuous roads call forth billowy heaves and sloshy body roll from the Spectra's suspension. And when you nail the brakes, the nose dives like WorldCom stock.

Nor does the Spectra's thin-rimmed tiller inspire much confidence. There's a nonlinear, squirmy spot right around the straight-ahead that makes the Spectra feel a bit distracted, particularly on the Interstate. At town speeds, the Spectra delivers the easy maneuverability typical of this class. Don't ask it to dance, and it won't ask you to take your Dramamine.

It's easy to see why most reviews of Korean cars are clouded with fluff. It's tempting to cheer on the underdog. But the truth is that Toyondissan has nothing to fear from Kia's sales leader. The Spectra is still the sort of uninspired car you buy because you can afford to, not because you want to. To change that, Kia needs to formulate a compelling brand image and stick to it like glue.

In the meantime, Kia still has The Big 2.8 shaking in their cement shoes. The Spectra nails the small car formula they've been bungling for decades: low entry price, lots of standard-features and cut corners hidden in places where Joe Motorist won't ever find them (i.e. corners). So the "sport" thing didn't work out so well. Never mind. There's always Chevy's lunch to steal.

The Rondo boasts Kia's latest design language– which is about as familiar to the average American as Urdu. Translation: the Rondo's sheet metal splits the difference between a smart-looking pope-mobile and a shrunken minivan. The details are a bit fraught, what with over-sized headlights ruining any hope of proportionality and a rear window treatment the likes of which haven't been seen since the days of the Azteks. 

Clearly, the Rondo's a family bus with no sporting intentions whatsoever. And? In a world where car designers snort swage lines, flame broil perfectly innocent door panels and Bangle big butts (and they cannot lie), the plain Sook Rondo is a handsome beast. May Giorgio Guigiaro have mercy on my soul.

Ten years ago, a Kia's cabin was a space best suited to contemplating how little you paid for your perch. (Rumor had it the Sephia's interior was made out of old scotch tape.) Grab a seat behind the Rondo's wheel, poke, prod and play with the surfaces and controls, and you'll feel like you found a twenty dollar bill in your pocket. The Rondo's plastic quality and control snickery are on a par with Honda and Toyota's offerings, full stop. Even without factoring the price differential, it's an accomplishment that should give GM supporters pause for thought. And yes, it matters.

Unlike some down market products I could mention (cough Cobalt cough), the Rondo's interior feels as finished as an episode of Law and Order. The corporate stereo head unit is a model of ergonomic (if not aural) clarity. The HVAC knobs are a breeze to operate (so to speak). The large oval vents break up the dash's landscape with symmetrical precision. The headliner is made from genuine woven material. All the Rondo's attempts at cheap chic are successful.

As a 180” car riding on the Optima platform, the Rondo's second row comfortably accommodates all but pro b-ballers and WWF refugees. The van's optional third row is perfect for your friends– provided you secretly hate them. More importantly, the Rondo's got your genetics covered. Mom and Dad get torso and head airbags and seat belt pretensioners, while everyone else gets side curtain airbags and five star government crash safety (save for four stars on rear seat side impact).

Cargo carrying is the Rondo's party trick. The second row does the flip and fold trick, the third row sinks into the abyss below and hey presto! You've got a perfectly level floor– to the point where a stranger happening upon a Rondo post-seat submersion would be forgiven for thinking the vehicle is a cleverly disguised delivery van. Between the huge rear hatch and the sky scraping roof, the Rondo is a big-box compatible schlepper.

Given the Rondo's 3500 lbs. curb weight, its [optional] 2.7-liter V6 generates a no-more-than-merely-adequate 182 horsepower. At least Kia did the right thing and hooked it up to a five-speed automatic gearbox. Acceleration is brisk when the car is unloaded. With a full crew, highway merging takes the patience of a Vulcan. There's no chance of a pistonhead mind meld with the base Rondo's 162hp 2.4-liter in-line four. Besides, the extra power only costs you a grand up front and one and two mpg at the pump (20/27 vs. 21/29 mpg).

Even better, at highway speeds, the V6's song is quieter than the wind noise off the side mirrors. If you should somehow mistake silent speed for handling prowess, the Kia steps up to the plate with a coffee klatsch of e-nannies, including electronic stability control and ABS. Hear that Toyota? They're standard issue.

The Rondo drives like white bread tastes. Or the Midwest looks. Or Lindsay Lohan acts. Understeer? I suppose. More to the point, the Rondo's leather-wrapped wheel connects to a precise rack and pinion setup, with proper weight and feedback. The brakes work. Nuff said?

The Rondo's ace: msrp. Actually, it's four aces. My nearly fully-loaded tester stickers at a family-friendly $21.5K. Considering a starting price in the high 16's, I'm going on record as saying the Rondo is the best family-car value in the U.S. It eviscerates Honda's Element and CR-V, Toyota's RAV4 and anything else in the price bracket. By building honest vehicles like the Rondo and pricing them aggressively, the Korean conquest of America's mainstream automotive market steamrolls ahead.