The “Z-car” has been with us now for forty years, but let’s be honest: most of those years were fairly disappointing. The original 240Z was a fabulous car that richly deserves its place in history, and the 1990 300ZX Turbo was a singular statement of high-speed style, but the story of the Z is too often a story of bloat, questionable visuals, and dismal V-6 engines. So it was with the 2003 350Z. As with Volkswagen’s New Beetle, adapting show-car style to an oversized platform-variant production model took a horrible aesthetic toll. The interior was dismal and the driving experience was too clearly that of a short-wheelbase G35. A ten-minute test drive six years ago was all I needed to cross the porky Zed off my personal list permanently, and not even the rather stunning-looking Nismo run-out model was sufficient incentive to change my position on the matter.

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When I was a small child, I would spend hours sitting in a cardboard box pretending it was a car. Now, I spend hours sitting in a car that pretends it’s a box. As a card carrying cubist, I’m always ready to jump in when a new carton appears. The last time I did that, it was about as traumatic as when my older brother tried to duct-tape me inside my favorite cardboard “ride”. I couldn’t get out of the gen2 Scion xB, and my review left no doubts about it. My progeny liked the Kia Soul, but it’s not a real genuine box. But a new package has arrived at the local Nissan dealer, named Cube, no less. So how does it square up?

While Ford and GM consider building their mid- and full-size cars on a single platform, Toyota and Nissan are already doing it. The Avalon has been based on the Camry platform since its inception and now Nissan is giving us an Altima-based Maxima. The key to pulling this trick off successfully is differentiating the resultant cars visually and dynamically, and preferably aiming them at different market segments. Did Nissan succeed at this mission, or did they just give us an Altimus Maximus?

Once upon a time, way back in 1959, a company called Datsun imported a funny-looking pickup truck with a small bed and tiny engine, giving birth to the compact pickup market in the U.S. After a slow start, the market grew, as did the competition. The 70’s brought onslaughts from Isuzu, Mazda, Mitsubishi, and even VW. After the dust settled, the small truck market in the U.S. belongs basically to the Toyota Tacoma, Ford Ranger, Chevy/GMC Colorado/Canyon (for now, anyway) and Nissan Forester—the direct descendant of the Datsun that started it all. Fifty years later, what hath Nissan wrought?

Let me take you down, cause I’m going to. . . GT-R Fields. Almost nothing is real, whether you’re talking about the ridiculous Nurburgring-centric engi-marketing, the programmed-to-self-destruct transmissions, or the amazing shrinking customer warranties. Still, there’s nothing to get hung about (so to speak). The entire concept behind the GT-R—building a car that more or less steers itself to people who can’t drive for shit, live in downtown Tokyo, or both– is stranger than any LSD trip John Lennon could have possibly imagined.

A call on Sunday to a lawyer’s office (mine) normally carries with it a tale of woe and unwanted police involvement. This time was different. A journalist neighbor called and asked if I wanted to drive the Nissan GT-R that had just been dropped in his driveway. The Skyline has been an unobtanium special for the last 15 or so years. I recall seeing one at International Rally New York, and even that battered right hand drive special attracted a crowd. So, with full knowledge of what was on offer, I ventured forth.

When Nissan introduced the Murano as a 2003 model, the styling raised more than a few eyebrows. In 2008, Nissan embarked on a Quest to redesign the machine as a less visually “intriguing” CUV. They tried to thread to proverbial needle: keep the Murano instantly recognizable while updating every body panel and adding one of the most bizarre snouts available on any automobile at any price. As the pimply-faced high school geek cum dot-com billionaire proved, looks can be deceiving. Does the same hold true for the “It Came from Outer Space (or France)” Murano S?

Question: How do you age a car ten years in seven? Answer: release the world beating GT-R. Sure, cars have advanced considerably since the 350Z debuted in 2002, but after riding around in one a coupe months back the truth became self-evident: this dog no longer hunts. In fact, it felt like a 4th Gen Camaro — all engine and odd squeaks. No one saw the writing on the wall as clearly as Nissan. Hence the brand spanking nouveau 370Z. But is it any good?

Second place sucks. Witness the U.S. Women’s Gymnastics’ squad in Beijing last summer. Pony tails drooped and tears streamed down their be-sparkled cheeks when gold medals were hung on the necks of the young (we swear they’re at least sixteen!) Chinese Olympic team. My heart goes out to Nissan, whose excellent 2009 Altima 2.5 sedan fell just short of the 2009 Mazda Mazda6 i Sport in this comparo.

A little behind-curtain action for you: When I finished with the 2008 Nissan Murano, I asked Farago if he was interested in a "Take Two" review. He wasn't. As I had even less interest in writing one ("Ride is softer than butter… no! Softer than veal fat"), I didn't. Why waste time insulting a fat pig when I can be losing hundreds of dollars at online poker? As you can imagine, I wasn't exactly doing cartwheels when the Nissan Rogue showed up. For all I knew it was a half-pint version of its (uglier) big brother. And a CVT, too? I was upset. But was I right?